And as he looked, a new hope seized him. The women must have fled to the water for protection. Perhaps, even now, they were somewhere on the shore, most likely at the farther end of the island.
Encouraged by this thought, he hurried back to the landing, and made his way down along the shore. He kept a sharp outlook, but no sign of life met his view. As he advanced, nothing rewarded his efforts, and despair once more seized him. The women could not have escaped from the island without assistance, he was certain. And it was hardly likely that any rescuer would be on hand in the time of need. Perhaps they had rushed into the water, and driven by the fury of the flames had gone beyond their depth. All this came into his mind as he turned the lower end of the island and viewed the shore to his right. He stopped and cast his eyes toward the mainland, but everywhere was the same scene of black desolation. It was wonderful how fast and far the fire had travelled before being checked by the rain.
Continuing his walk, he moved slowly along the shore until he came abreast the spot where the cabin had stood, and on the opposite side of the island from the landing. There was no need for him to go any farther. The women were nowhere in the vicinity, he was sure. They must have been drowned!
But perhaps they had been overtaken by the fire in their rush to the water, and their charred bodies even now might be lying among the trees. It was a fearful thought, which paled his burnt cheeks, and caused him to tremble violently. Should he search for them? he asked himself.
"I can't do it!" he groaned. "Oh, God! this is terrible!"
He buried his face in his hands, and sank down upon the ground, his soul writhing with the agony of an overwhelming despair.
CHAPTER XXVII
IN THE NICK OF TIME
"What a lovely place this is!"
Jess was standing close to the water looking across at the opposite shore. Mrs. Hampton, seated upon the bank, thought she had never beheld a more beautiful picture of grace and maidenly charm. Her heart thrilled as she watched her standing there. She was her own child, and no one had any right to take her away. Her face, however, became grave as she thought of Henry Randall. He was a determined man, she was well aware, and he would exert every effort, and spend money without stint to get control of the girl he believed to be his daughter. She felt that affairs were nearing a crisis now. But she would fight, and, if necessary, divulge the story of her own wretched sin. It would be a startling revelation to the two young people, she was certain, but she fondly cherished the hope that they would readily forgive her for her dark deed of the past.