"Jim knows his way; he couldn' get lost."
"I'm just afraid he may have got hurt somewhere--twisted his ankle, or something of that kind, and be lying out in the sand-hills; and it's as black as pitch outside, and going to be a bad night."
"Puir lad, I hope not," said Mrs. Rimmer, with added concern in her face. "'Twill be a bad night for them that's on th' sea." Her face, in its setting of puckered white nightcap, looked very frail and anxious. "But they're aw in His hands, passon."
"And they couldn't be in better, Mrs. Rimmer," he said, more cheerfully than he felt.
"Ay, I know; but I wish my man were home. Whene'er th' wind howls like that, I aye think of them that's gone and them that has yet to go."
"Not one of them goes without His knowing. Your thoughts are prayers, and the prayers of a good woman avail much." And he pressed the thin white hand, and Gracie kissed her and Kattie, and they went out into the night.
The wind hummed across the flats till their heads hummed in unison. More than once the drive of it carried them off their course, and brought them up against the ghostly hummocks, where the long, thin wire-grass swirled and swished with the sound of scythes. The grim desolation beyond struck a chill to Eager's heart, as he imagined Jim lying out there, calling in vain for help against the strident howl of the gale.
There was just the possibility that he had got home during their absence, however; so, in anxious silence, they made for Carne.
"No, I hanna seen nowt of him," said Mrs. Lee, and stood glowering at them with set, pinched face.
"I had better see Sir Denzil. Shall I go up? You wait here with Jack, Gracie." And he went off along the stone-flagged passage, and climbed the big staircase, and knocked on the door leading to Sir Denzil's rooms.