Lucy had been very much agitated in parting with her mother; but, perhaps, the most agitating moment of all had now arrived, when she had to quit her native land, to bid adieu to every former scene and association--to break the tie between herself and all that she had loved and cherished in the former portion of her existence; to begin a new and unknown state of being, with clouds of the darkest hue and most threatening character in every part of the sky. Though she did not weep, she trembled violently as Charles Tyrrell led her down to the beach.
Her maid was very much agitated, too; but the woman was blessed with one of those minds which have the consolation of trifles, and a packet missing, for which she had to run back to the cottage, was an inestimable benefit to her.
When they reached the margin of the sea, Charles took Lucy in his arms like a child, and carried her through the water to the boat. Hailes performed the same office for the maid, and then the good fisherman lingered for a moment, once more to kiss and call a blessing on his boy.
But a sound that he heard upon the beach caused him to cut his farewell short. It was that of a quick step coming along the shingles and the form of a man was clearly discerned, running with all speed toward them. The fisherman run into the water to the boat as fast as possible, and he and Charles Tyrrell using their united strength to push her off, she was afloat in a moment. The boy had run back to the cottage, but the man who had been seen approaching came up at full speed, shouting:--
"Boat, ahoy! boat, ahoy! I want to go off to the ship."
"Perhaps he really does," said Charles Tyrrell.
"Push off, push off," said Hailes in a low voice, and with an agitated manner; but, then immediately shouted in a louder tone, "I will take you when I come back again;" but still, while the boat got rapidly out to sea, he looked back toward the shore, and then much to the surprise of Charles Tyrrell, said, "He's not coming--he's not coming!"
"He's not coming!" echoed Charles Tyrrell. "What do you mean, Hailes? he would be drowned."
Hailes made no answer, and Charles Tyrrell applied himself to comfort and support his fair Lucy. Agitation, terror, and sorrow had by this time completely overpowered her, and while Charles supported her with his arm, and held her hand in his, she leaned her head upon his bosom, and for several minutes indulged in silent tears. The sea, however, was by no means rough; the gray of the morning was changing into purple; the haze which had obscured the sky cleared away, and a bright star was seen walking in beauty before the coming sun.
"Look, dear Lucy, look!" said Charles Tyrrell, pointing to the star on which she turned her dewy eyes at his bidding, "surely that is hope."