We walked on. As a projecting rock was going to hide the spot from our view, William turned round to give it one last glance, then he looked at me wishfully, and said, "I had him from a pup, and I taught him all his tricks."
From that day William and I were friends. We met to talk of Dash at first, and afterwards of other things, for even the best of dogs must expect to be forgotten. William generously forgave me my sex, and confided to me his troubles. His aunt, it seems, kindly intended him as a present to the Church, but William vowed no mortal power should induce him to turn a parson, and boldly declared for the sea, in a midshipman's berth, against which his aunt, whose ideas of nautical life were summed up in grog and biscuit, entered a solemn protest.
As we very seldom visited Miss Murray, and as she never visited us, I only saw William when I met him out, and that was often, for we loved the same solitary haunts and wild scenes. In parting we told one another what places we were to visit on the morrow, and William no more knew he had asked me for a meeting, than I knew I had granted him one. We followed the retreating tide to gather shells and sea-weeds, or ran hand in hand along the sands, laughing, because the keen breeze took away our breath, and the waves came dashing to our feet, covering us with spray. We climbed together the steepest cliffs for the mere love of danger, and risked our necks, ten times for one, by running down the same perilous path. When we felt tired, we sat down on some rock to rest, and William, drawing forth from his pocket 'The Dangers of the Deep,' made me low- spirited with dismal stories of lost or shipwrecked mariners. Friendships grow rapidly in youth, and by the close of William's holidays we were as free and intimate as if we had been in familiar intercourse for years.
I had told Miss O'Reilly of Dash's death and burial, and was beginning to state that William Murray was not quite so bad as he had appeared on our first interview, when she interrupted me with—
"Nonsense, child, the boy may have liked his dog; but what about it?"
Later, when I imparted to her the grievances of my friend, she treated them in the same careless, slighting way.
"Pooh! pooh!" she said, "does the little fellow think he knows his own mind? A midshipman! why the first breeze would whip him off the deck. He'll do a great deal better in the pulpit, so far as physical strength goes, but what sort of a preacher he will make is more than I can tell."
I was too much mortified by her tone and manner to renew the subject; but at the same time, and with the spirit of opposition of my years, I liked William all the better for being rather persecuted. Indeed, the aversion Kate had taken to my friend proved somewhat unfortunate, for, without intending any mystery, I forbore to mention his name to her; consequently she knew little or nothing of an intimacy which I have reason to believe she would have opposed from many motives, and to which her opposition would in the beginning have been a sufficient bar.
In spite of the ridicule with which Miss O'Reilly treated his pretensions to the sea, William Murray conquered his aunt's opposition, and, in the course of the ensuing spring, went forth on his first voyage. He remained a year away, and came back about a week before we received the letter which led us to expect the return of Cornelius. Our joy on seeing one another again was great; absence had not cooled our friendship; not a day passed but we met on the sands, and took long walks down the coast. I thought nothing of this until Miss O'Reilly said to me—
"William Murray is come back."