Beryl's triumph

by Eglanton Thorne

When Beryl was much younger, her nurse had often brought her to this spot, and allowed her to play at will amongst the thin grass, whilst she sat on the bench and knitted, an occupation of which Lucy never tired. Lucy now sat down and gazed silently at the sea for a few moments. She saw, without knowing how beautiful it was, the constant play of light and shadow on the shimmering water, and the glorious stretch of blue sky with its snowy clouds drifting slowly to the west.

Yet, though unconscious of the beauty about her, some of the gladness of the hour stole into Lucy's spirit. She thought, not with shuddering horror, but with deep thankfulness for his safety, of how nearly her brother had found his death beneath the blue waves now dancing so joyously in the sunlight.

But Lucy could not long indulge in such musings, for Beryl was impatient to pass on through the fields to the little pebbly cove beyond. When they reached the stile, from which a steep, narrow path ran down to the beach, they saw, to their surprise, a little crowd of persons standing below within the shelter of the cliff.

It was not unusual for there to be a number of boys and girls playing on the beach on a Sunday afternoon; but though the majority were children, there were several grown-up persons in the little company standing so quietly below.

"What are they doing, Lucy? Why do they stand there?" asked Beryl.

"Don't you see there is a gentleman talking to them, Miss Beryl?" said Lucy. "I remember now that Joe told me there was a gentleman from London, an artist, he said he was, had taken to preaching to the folks down here on a Sunday afternoon; but I forgot all about it when I said we would walk this way."

"I am very glad we came," said Beryl; "let us go down and hear what he is saying."

And she started at a run down the steep path. Lucy and Coral followed more cautiously; Lucy feeling rather doubtful of the propriety of her allowing Miss Beryl to attend "the preaching."

But Beryl, very curious as to this unusual proceeding, pushed her way into the little crowd gathered about the speaker. Seeing her approach, the people respectfully made place for her, and so it happened that Beryl soon found herself close beside the gentleman, who stood leaning against the cliff, as he spoke in simple words to his untaught, childish audience.

Beryl liked the look of the speaker, and did not doubt his right to be called a gentleman, though he had not the well-to-do, easy air her father always wore, and his clothes were of poor material, and well worn. Even to the child's glance there was something beyond the ordinary in his appearance and bearing. His face was thin, and he had the pallid complexion which betokens delicate health. He wore his black hair rather long, and a thick, dark beard covered his chest. His eyes were of a deep, clear grey, and had the open, steadfast look those only have which can look beyond self, having escaped the thraldom of personal desires and ambitions. There was a winning gentleness in the man's expression, and though his voice was not strong, its tones went home to every heart.