A faint tinge of returning colour had at length appeared in the child’s pale cheeks and lips. This had been succeeded by a-fluttering sigh or two, and then her eyes had opened suddenly with a look of terror, which had given place to one of joy and relief as she recognised her father and mother bending over her. Upon which Henderson had gently raised her and promptly administered the draught which he had prepared.
Presently the little creature spoke. “Oh, mamma,” she exclaimed, looking somewhat wildly about her, “is it morning; is it time to get up? I have had such a dreadful dream—”
“There; never mind your dream, dear; forget all about it, and try to go to sleep again,” said Mrs Henderson soothingly; “it is not quite time to get up yet.”
“Yes; go to sleep again like a good girl,” agreed Henderson; “but you can tell us your dream first, dear, if you very much wish to do so. You forget,” he added in an undertone to his wife; “she may be able to throw a great deal of light upon the state of affairs, and afford us information of the last importance. What was your dream, darling?”
“Oh,” began the child, “I dreamt that we—Mr Gaunt and Percy and I, you know—had been to the beach gathering shells; and as we were coming back in the boat a great ship suddenly came round the corner, full of ugly, wicked men; and they fired guns at us, and one of them hit Mr Gaunt, for I saw the blood running down his face. And then they came after us in a boat, and were quite near us when we reached the creek; and then Mr Gaunt told Percy and me to run home as fast as ever we could; and he took one of the boat’s oars and got out and stood on the beach, and looked as if he was going to fight the men. So Percy took my hand, and we ran—oh, ever so fast; and I looked round and saw Mr Gaunt fighting all the men with the oar; and then we turned a corner, and I felt tired and wanted to stop; but Percy wouldn’t let me, and we kept on running, and I began to cry. And just as I wanted to stop again we heard somebody running after us, and I thought it was Mr Gaunt, but it wasn’t; it was one of the ugly men out of the ship; and he had a long knife in his hand. So we ran faster, and then dear Percy fell down; but I ran on, and the ugly man caught Percy, and—oh, mamma!” Here the poor little creature’s eyes filled with tears, and the frightened look returned to them. “Was it a dream, or did it really happen?”
“It really happened, dear,” answered Henderson, who made a point of never deceiving his child about anything; “it really happened; but never mind; you are with us now, you know, and quite safe, so lie down and try to go to sleep. And do not trouble about dear Percy; we will have him and his papa both safe back with us by to-morrow morning, please God. What a horrible experience for the poor child—and what dreadful news about those two!” he murmured to his wife as Lucille sank back and closed her eyes again under the influence of the soothing draught he had administered. “Fancy that poor little fellow Percy in the hands of those fiends. Hark! is not that Manners’ voice hailing outside? Stay here with Lucille and hold her hand, it will soothe her, and I will go and lower the ladder.”
With that Henderson hurried away, leaving his wife to watch by the bedside of their child, with a heart brimful of pity and sympathy for her bereaved friend, and of unspeakable gratitude to God for the safety of her own loved ones.
Arrived at the head of the staircase, Henderson approached the parapet, and, leaning over, peered down into the gathering darkness.
“Is that you, Manners?” he asked, seeing a couple of figures standing close underneath him.
“Ay, ay, sir; here we are,” answered Manners for himself and his companion. “Will you kindly lower the ladder, please, doctor?”