But she had sat apart and fretted nevertheless; and, when she saw the brown bows rushing madly through the yellow surf, she had shut her eyes and prayed, and had opened them to see the boat on her beam ends, and a dozen struggling figures in the pitiless water.
Then she had stood up and wrung her hands.
They were safe. She heard that, and she buried her face in her hands, and murmured a prayer of thanksgiving.
Some one stood beside her. It was Marston, bareheaded and barefooted.
"Oh, thank God!" she said.
"We have given you a sad fright."
"I have been terribly frightened. But you must not stand dripping there. Please come up, and let me attend you."
So she got him a pair of shoes, and they went up together. The penance procession had passed on before; and a curious circumstance is this, that although on ordinary occasions Marston was as lively a talker as need be, on this occasion he was an uncommonly stupid one, as he never said one word all the way up to the hall, and then separated from her with a formal little salutation.