“As sure as there is a God, Agnes,” I said; and she went away without another word.
I put my hand on the top of the wall and jumped over. I started back with terror, for I had almost alighted on the body of a woman lying there. The first insane suggestion was that it had been cast ashore; but the next moment I knew that it was my own Wynnie.
She had not even fainted. She was lying with her handkerchief stuffed into her mouth to keep her from screaming. When I uttered her name she rose, and, without looking at me, walked away towards the house. I followed. She went straight to her own room and shut the door. I went to find her mother. She was with Connie, who was now awake, lying pale and frightened. I told Ethelwyn that Percivale and Joe were on board the little schooner, which was holding on by her anchor, that Wynnie was in terror about Percivale, that I had found her lying on the wet grass, and that she must get her into a warm bath and to bed. We went together to her room.
She was standing in the middle of the floor, with her hands pressed against her temples.
“Wynnie,” I said, “our friends are not drowned. I think you will see them quite safe in the morning. Pray to God for them.”
She did not hear a word.
“Leave her with me,” said Ethelwyn, proceeding to undress her; “and tell nurse to bring up the large bath. There is plenty of hot water in the boiler. I gave orders to that effect, not knowing what might happen.”
Wynnie shuddered as her mother said this; but I waited no longer, for when Ethelwyn spoke everyone felt her authority. I obeyed her, and then went to Connie’s room.
“Do you mind being left alone a little while?” I asked her.
“No, papa; only—are they all drowned?” she said with a shudder.