"Never mind her. She will be a blamed sight better taken care of by us, than she has been lately by any of you! Come, get out with you!"
"But, sir, I daren't desert my sick lady."
"I'm blest, if you don't get out of this boat in double quick time, if I don't pitch your head foremost into the water, and drown you. We have no time to stop here fooling with you till it is broad daylight," said the man, starting to his feet as if about to put his threat into instant execution.
Miss Tabby jumped up and scuttled out of the boat as fast as she could go, without even having stopped to kiss her lady "good-bye."
And this was the last Miss Tabby saw or heard of Sybil Berners for many long years.
CHAPTER XXVI.
AFTER THE DISASTER.
| That flow strewed wrecks about the grass; |
| That ebb swept out the flocks to sea. |
| A fatal ebb and flow, alas! |
| To many more than mine and me.—Jean Ingelow. |
The day after the terrible disaster the sun arose upon a scene of awful desolation!