Before going to her own room, she peeped cautiously into her father's, which was flooded with moonlight, the blind being up; and a sob broke from her lips at the sight which met her eyes. The man had thrown himself, fully dressed as he was, upon the bed, and had already sunk into a heavy, drunken slumber. Salome stood looking at him, the tears running down her cheeks, mingled love and indignation in her aching heart. Then the love overcame all else, and she sank on her knees by her father's side, and prayed earnestly for him who was unfit to pray for himself, whilst the words the Vicar had spoken to her that evening—
"'The eternal God is thy refuge,
and underneath are the everlasting arms.'"
—recurred to her memory, and fell like balm upon her sorrowful spirit. And she felt that she did not bear her trouble alone.
[CHAPTER II.]
New Acquaintances.
WHEN Josiah Petherick came downstairs to breakfast on the following morning, his face wore a furtive, sullen expression, as though he expected to be taken to task for his behaviour of the night before. On previous occasions, Salome had, by tears and sorrowing words, reproached him for his unmanly conduct; but this morning she was perfectly composed, and the meal was eaten almost in silence. Afterwards, Josiah informed his little daughter that he should probably be away all day mackerel fishing, and went off in the direction of the beach. There was a fresh breeze blowing, and he looked forward to a successful day's work.
Salome moved about the cottage with a very heavy heart. On account of her affliction, it took her longer than it would have most people to get over her household duties, so that it was past noon before she had everything ship-shape, and was at leisure. Then she put on a pink sun-bonnet, and went into the garden to look at her flowers, pulling weeds here and there, until the sounds of shrill cries made her hurry to the garden gate to ascertain what was going on outside.
Salome stood gazing in astonishment at the scene which met her eyes. A boy of about six years old was lying on the ground, kicking and shrieking with passion, whilst a young woman was bending over him, trying to induce him to get up. At a short distance, a pretty little girl, apparently about Salome's own age, was looking on, and laughing, as though greatly amused.
"Gerald, get up! Do get up, there's a good boy!" implored the young woman. "Dear, dear, what a temper you're in. You 're simply ruining that nice new sailor's suit of yours, lying there in the dust. Oh, Margaret—" and she turned to the little girl—"do try to induce your brother to be reasonable."
"I couldn't do that, Miss Conway," was the laughing response, "for Gerald never was reasonable yet. Look at him now, his face crimson with passion. He's like a mad thing, and deserves to be whipped. He—"