Schillie.—"At present it seems true enough, not that you will have long to fret about it, for we shall have to bury you soon, grieving in this manner; I shall go as soon as I can after you; Madame is already gasping; and then I should like to know what will become of all the young ones."
Mother.—"I do my best, I try to think about it as little as possible. But what are your thoughts, Schillie? What do you think about them not returning for us? Is it accident, or——"
Schillie.—"Come, say no more at present, here are the girls coming to meet us. To-morrow we must settle something, it is due to them for the patience with which they have acted in the last fortnight, to take them into our councils. Give us all until to-morrow, before we finally doom ourselves to consider this island our living grave."
Mother.—"But have you no hope, Schillie, speak quickly ere they come, have you no hope?"
Schillie.—"Hope! hope for Aladdin's Lamp, Prince Hassan's Carpet, Green's Balloon, a Railway over the Sea. Hope nothing, and you won't be disappointed."
Mother.—"You are cruel, Schillie."
Schillie.—"Face the worst at once, it will save you much sorrow hereafter. Now say no more, but scrape up a smile for those poor girls if you can."
Even this uncomfortable conversation proved of so much relief to us two that we were more cheerful that evening at tea, and consequently the poor children took courage to be also a little more lively. But we were hurried to our different shelters by a clap of thunder and flash of lightning, unlike anything we had ever seen before, and the rain fell in large splashing drops. In the middle of the night, we were awakened by repeated peals of thunder crashing over our heads, while the lightning played incessantly, beautiful but most awful to behold. The rain at first came in gusts, but after a while, such a deluge poured down upon us, that in half an hour our little frail huts were beaten down over our heads. One minute's exposure to the sheets of water that were descending drenched us through. With difficulty we crawled to a little cavern, which just held us, and also permitted the servants to change the children's dripping clothes, and thus passed the whole night; but the sun arose as bright as ever, rendering the scene more brilliant and lovely, from the innumerable rain-drops bespangling everything. Not all the cold, misery, and discomfort we had undergone, besides losing our rest, prevented us exclaiming at the fresh beauty of the verdure and trees, and the sweet smell of the thirsty earth as we emerged from our cavern.
We had first to light a great fire, and then to spread all the bedding on the rocks to dry in the sun. We soon warmed some water, and drank hot tea and coffee; but Madame showed symptoms of a violent cold, and little Felix and Winny shivered and shook as if in an ague fit. The poor little huts were entirely ruined, and what was worse still, all our stores and the different things belonging to La Luna, though carefully covered with sail cloth and other things, were yet evidently much damaged by the wet; in fact, it was not this day only that we had to deplore the effect of the night storms catching us so unprepared. We suffered for it, as will be seen hereafter, the whole time we were on the island. However, we could now only think of making ourselves comfortable again. Of course the tents had been beaten down even before the huts; we could not shelter under the great chestnut tree, as the stream had swollen so as to surround it on all sides, washing away all our seats, a great many dinner things, books, and various other matters which we had left there, and which of course had been carried down into the sea, so that we never recovered them again. Fresh disasters were being discovered every minute, and so much were we taken up by them, that it was not until late in the evening, when tired and exhausted we sat down to tea, that the much greater weight and dread on our minds returned in full force.
After a silence, Schillie looked at me and nodded. I tried to speak, but the words would not come, they died away in whispers. All waited in anxious expectation, not knowing what was coming; at last, Sybil and Serena both rose, and coming to me, clasped their arms round me, and said, "Dear Sister, if the ship does not come back for us, we do not care so long as you are well and happy. Do not grieve on our account, everything will end well, you will see. Do you not always bid us trust in God. Let us pray then for his help, but do not grieve, do not weep thus."