"By composing yourself, my dear madam," he replied, leading her to a chair; but Constance became almost hysterical; she clasped his hand in hers, and almost sought to kiss it, in expression of her deep gratitude, greatly to the confusion of the old soldier, who was Englishman enough to dislike a "scene."
"Under the circumstances, no apology is necessary for the abruptness of my visit," said he; "we are pretty near neighbours, and I hope shall ultimately be friends, though, singular to say, I have never had the pleasure of meeting Captain Devereaux."
These words recalled Constance to a sense—the ever-bitter sense—of the awkwardness of her position, and she faltered out—
"Captain Devereaux is absent at present—abroad indeed—but I hope he shall soon be home now. And our dear daughter—she escaped the rising tide——"
"By fortunately being able to find shelter in the Pixies' Hole, from which she was promptly rescued by a young friend—a brother-officer of mine."
"Oh, how I shall bless him and ever treasure his name."
"He is Mr. Audley Trevelyan, and has conveyed her, in the first place, to old Mike Treherne's cottage. She was drenched by rain and spray, suffering from chill, and overcome with terror."
"My poor little Sybil!"
The General did not add to the mother's alarm by adding that he had left Sybil insensible, but only said—
"She should not return till to-morrow, when perhaps the rain may cease, and the storm abate; but I have ordered my carriage, and she shall have the use of it with pleasure. It must be here in a few minutes now."