A handsome brougham, painted dark green, drawn by fine gray horses, with silver mountings on their harness and with a coachman and footman in gray-and-green livery stood before the door.
And the countess and her protegee entered it and were driven towards the Cameron Court.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
THE RESCUE.
The tide has ebbed away;
No more wild surging 'gainst the adamant rocks,
No swayings of the sea-weed false that mocks
The hues of gardens gay;
No laugh of little wavelets at their play!
No lucid pools reflecting Heaven's brow—
Both storm and cloud alike are ended now.
The gray, bare rocks sit lone;
The shifting sand lies so smooth and dry
That not a wave might ever have swept by
To vex it with loud moan.
Only some weedy fragments blackening grown
To dry beneath the sky, tells what has been;
But desolation's self has grown serene.
—Anon.
We must now relate what happened to Ishmael and his companions after they were deserted by the lifeboats. When they were out of sight he dropped his eyes and bent his head in prayer for himself and his fellow-sufferers, and thus awaited his fate.
But, oh, Heaven of heavens! what is this? Is it death, or—life?
The wreck that had been whirling violently around at the mercy of the furious sea was now lifted high upon the crest of a wave and cast further up upon the reef, where she rested in comparative safety.
So suddenly and easily had this been done that it was some minutes before the shipwrecked men could understand that they were for the present respited from death.