I see it all, as I said, and at last, seeing it less and less plain for something as came in my eyes, I picked up my paste-tin and my brush, and then made towards the door; but I was obliged to go back and have another look, for the thought come as it might have been a sister, or a mother, or—or—or—I broke down there; for I said to myself as it might have been a widder, and that widder might have been mine. But the thoughts of that made me start again and hurry out of the place, with a will and a spirit in me to have posted up all London, if I could have got the job; and short work I made of what else I had to do. But there in my pipe that night was that worn-out seamstress, whose calm, sleeping face cried out so appealingly—crying in a way that should make all London shudder:
“Brother, I was starved to death!”
Chapter Twenty Four.
Cast Ashore.
But a few hours before I had been lying in a nook amidst the huge rocks, high above the sands, gazing down at the sea, which curled over with a long ripple upon the yellow sands. The sun poured down with all his rich mellow autumn glory, and far as eye could reach the bosom of the sea was one shimmering surface of glittering silver—here tinged with the palest of greens, there passing into a lovely blue, while almost motionless, ship after ship, with every stitch of sail spread in a perfect cloud of canvas, added to the beauty of the scene.
Where I lay, sheltered by a large overhanging rock, a tiny stream slowly trickled out of a cavern whose mouth was beautifully fringed by many varieties of fern, while other growths, nurtured by the cool freshness of the never-failing water, added their velvety beauty to the favoured spot.
But now how different! I stood in an opening in the rocks where the village was built, and the great jetty ran down into the sea. The wind tore by me so that I could hardly stand against its fury, while down by the pier and the rocks, the waves came tumbling in ten or twelve feet high, curling over and over, as if to scoop out the shore; and wherever they encountered rock or pier there seemed a momentary halt, as if they gathered strength, when with a mighty leap up flew tons of water in a fountain of foam, which was again swept against the face of the long line of rocks behind the sand, or dashed over them and carried in a storm of spray inland.