Slowly sank the sun, the waves seemed to wash up across its blood-red surface, and gradually, so gradually, engulfed the whole.
"And the sun's last rosy rays did fade
Into twilight soft and dim."
————
Frank Trelawney was indeed glad when he found himself once more in his own room. The man brought water, and with Highland courtesy insisted on bathing his feet.
He next hurried away for a cup of delicious coffee, after swallowing which Frank felt like a giant refreshed, and soon went down into the drawing-room.
He was still pale, however, for the terrible fatigue had temporarily affected the heart.
Little Flora was not slow to note this.
"Oh, cousin," she said, "how white and tired-looking you are! You shouldn't have gone. You're only a poor little English boy, you know."
Frank liked the child's sympathy, but he certainly did not feel flattered by the last sentence.
"That's all," he mustered courage to say. "I'm only a poor Cockney lad, and I think, Flora, I've had enough white-hare shooting to last me for a very long time. When next your father and brothers go after game of this sort, I'll stay at home and make love to you."