"Hush, dear, hush, I am in the hands of God." He pressed her closely to him and kissed her in silence. Then he looked upward and said a silent fervent prayer. They clung to each other with aching hearts, too deeply moved, too sorrowful for words. Then the tramping of feet overhead, the sound of cheers, the shrill voice of the bo'sun's whistle, made them start up. "Brenda," whispered Harold, pressing her again to his heart, "good-bye, my own dearest."
"Oh, Harold! Harold! Good-bye, darling! God bless you and bring you back to me."
On deck he led her to her father who was standing by the gangway, and placed her in his arms. "Take care of her, sir," he said in a low voice, then hurried away at the call of duty.
Father and daughter descended the gangway to the wharf. She stood as in a dream, with streaming eyes, among other women, and looked at the great ship. The shouts of the crowd, the glitter of the sunshine, the many-colored bunting, seemed like a cruel mockery to her aching heart. Her Harold was gone from her--and God knew when he would return. And everywhere the women wept and strained and ached at parting with their dear ones.
The transport was like a hive at swarming-time. The soldiers were hanging over the bulwarks and clinging to the rigging. Hats and handkerchiefs waved, women wept and men cheered. Then amidst all the noise and movement the blades of the screw began slowly to churn the water. As the seething white foam swirled astern, the band struck up "Auld Lang Syne," and the great ship swung majestically into mid-stream, her engines throbbing, and black smoke pouring through her funnels from the newly stoked furnaces below. Brenda, for weeping, could hardly see the grey monster gliding over the glittering waters; nor, strain as she would, could she make out her Harold's dear face amongst those hundreds of faces turned shoreward. The band changed the tune:
"I'm leaving thee in sorrow, Annie,
I'm leaving thee in tears."
"My God!" exclaimed Brenda, almost hysterical now as she clutched her father's arm.
"Miss Scarse," said a voice at her elbow.
Brenda looked up with a tear-stained face, and a look of horror came into her eyes as she saw Van Zwieten's hateful, calm face. "You! you! Ah, Harold!"
"Go away, sir, go away," said Mr. Scarse, curtly. Then he began to push through the crowd with Brenda clinging to his arm.