By this time they had rounded the point. Suddenly John, who had sat down again, called out:
"Stop! I see something on the water yonder!"
[Illustration: "She Clutched His Arm In A Convulsive Grasp.">[
The men looked in the direction where he pointed, and a small object was visible on the surface of the water. They quickly rowed toward it. It was a lady's hat, which John instantly recognized as Hilda's. The long crape veil seemed to have caught in a stake which arose from the sandy beach above the water, placed there to mark some water level, and the hat floated there. Reverently, as though they were touching the dead, did those rough men disentangle the folds, and lay the hat on the basket.
"There is no hope now," said the younger fisherman, after a solemn silence. "May our dear Lord and our Blessed Lady," he added, crossing himself as he spoke, "have mercy on her soul!"
"Amen!" repeated the others, gently.
"However shall I tell my poor little missis," said John, wiping his eyes.
The others made no response. Soon they reached the shore again. The old man whispered a few words to his son, and then turned to John:
"I say, comrade," said he; "don't let _her_--" a jerk of his head in the direction of the cottage indicated to whom the pronoun referred--"don't let _her_ give us that. We've done naught but what we'd have done for any poor creature among these rocks. We couldn't take pay for this night's job--my son nor me. And all we wish is, that it had been for some good; but it wasn't the Lord's will; and it ain't for us to say nothin' agin that; only you'll tell your missis, when she he's a bit better, that we made bold to send her our respectful sympathy."