Then the finding the water in the cave and on the steps was told; and how he should have been afraid, only Man Friday was not, even when they went back and found they could not get out at the top.
"She told me God would take care of us till the tide turned, when I cried. And then she made a cosy bed-place with her frock, and I just went to sleep till you found me."
"Brave little woman!" murmured the Vicar, under his breath.
"Wasn't I brave too, father?" asked the little boy, looking down earnestly into his father's eyes.
"Yes, dear, you were. To go to sleep and let God take care of you in His own way was the best and bravest thing you could do. You believed what your Man Friday said—that God would take care of you until the tide turned; and then, of course, you could help yourselves. Man Friday must have gone to sleep too, I expect," added the Vicar to himself.
But the little fellow shook his head in dissent. "I told her to stop awake and help God take care of me," he said, "and she could not lie down like I did."
"She certainly took good care of you," said the Vicar; and then, with one more plunge through the deepening water, the boat was reached, and the little boy could see for himself that it was Eliza the fisherman had carried just in front of them. But when he saw her face he looked very grave. "What have you done to her?" he demanded, looking at one of the men.
"She was just like that when I picked her up yonder," said the man.
The truth was that Eliza had fainted as soon as there was no further demand upon her courage and endurance.
The Vicar understood better than Eustace or the fishermen what a terrible time it must have been for the girl, and that she had completely broken down as soon as relief arrived was not at all surprising.