Though this had happened some days ago the fine weather still held, and Laura had persuaded Mrs. Bradford to come down to the now deserted promenade for a little change of scene. They sat silent on the long bench; Mrs. Bradford a little overdone in her heavy black clothes on such an unexpectedly warm morning, and Laura looking at a sea which once more broke in harmless little glittering waves on the firm sand. The storm had dashed the water right up to the sea-wall, washing away all traces of the Thorhaven season from that part of the shore, while on the promenade itself butterflies fluttered among the flower beds devastated by wind and rain. Far away down the beach, she saw the donkeys which had been ridden by children all the summer to the hootings of donkey boys, but they now plodded sedately with gravel in panniers on their backs up the cliff path, just as their ancestors had done for centuries past. It seemed really as if some power too immense for constant interference had grown suddenly tired of bands, visitors, tents, buckets and spades, and had swept them all away with a gesture, leaving only the stretch of shore; much as it was before Thorhaven existed, and as it would be when Thorhaven was under the sea like the other village beyond, which coast erosion had taken.
Perhaps Laura may have found this contrast between permanence and fleetingness depressing; anyway, her face was sad as she sat quietly there, looking in front of her. After a while she turned round to look inland, where the hall and the café and the pay-box were all shuttered and closed—already appearing somehow desolate. Then Mrs. Bradford, having regained her breath, felt that gratitude made a remark necessary.
"Your loss is my gain, my dear," she said. "If you had not put off your wedding again, you would not be here to keep me company. When is it to be now?"
The blood deepened in Laura's face right up to the roots of her hair, but she smiled and answered easily: "Oh, no exact time has been fixed."
"Ah, well; I daresay you are right. You can't enjoy anything—even getting married—when you are in bad health. I was told the postponement might have something to do with Godfrey's financial difficulties," Mrs. Bradford added, "but I felt sure there was nothing in that report." Still she glanced curiously at the girl by her side.
"No, it was not that." Laura paused, then went on: "Every business man who is making his way occasionally takes on more business than he has capital for. But I am sure he will get through all right. It was only temporary."
"I'm glad of that, I'm sure," said Mrs. Bradford. Then she lowered her voice confidentially: "But if I were you, I should see that my own money was securely tied up. Godfrey may be a Wilson, but he is human. I know poor Ethel would not have said this to you, because she always thought so much of the family. I don't blame her—poor Ethel!—but being married naturally gives one a wider view." And having thus triumphed over Miss Ethel, even in her grave, Mrs. Bradford relapsed into silence. Laura seemed equally inclined to sit quiet, so nothing more was said for a considerable time. At last three girls came walking briskly along the promenade, stimulating a further effort at conversation.
"I'm glad Caroline has decided to stay with us until our things are sold," said Mrs. Bradford.
"Yes. She has been very obliging," said Laura. Then Mrs. Bradford's thoughts went evenly inward again. "I have arranged to keep my own chair. The proprietress of the boarding-house at Scarborough has been very obliging about having it placed in a corner out of the draught. They like a permanent boarder who is well recommended, and I shall be quite comfortable so long as I have my own chair in a nice corner, and my book and my knitting. You see, the sale of the house and furniture will enable me to take a good room on the first floor. I have no doubt I shall be all right there"—she paused—"as right as I can be now, that is to say," she added, her lip trembling.
During the silence which followed, the three girls passed once more—heads erect and neatly-shod feet stepping lightly on the hard path. Mrs. Bradford looked after them with a sort of dull aversion. "Two of those girls' mothers were in service. Why aren't they?"