What was that? What sound broke the stillness? A voice? Far away, faint yet clear, ringing sweet round the gray rock:
“Giles! Father Giles! where are you, father?”
Giles Heron gathered his wasted muscles together, and with a last effort threw the knife from him; it glittered a moment, unstained, in the sun; then dropped without sound, and the red blossoms closed over it. He raised himself and tried to answer the call, but his voice was choked. The day turned black, and, as he sank down, the blood burst from his mouth and streamed out over the scarlet sorrel. Yes, it was darker.
CHAPTER V.
“LONE, LONE, THOU HAST LEFT ME HERE.”
HERE begins the true story of Isla Heron’s life. She had been a simple creature till now, living the life of half-savage freedom that was the only life she knew, playing among the black rocks, singing with the wind and the sea, loving her parents and her little Jacob almost fiercely. Her thinking life began when her father was brought back to the home-cabin, cold and silent, and laid on his bed by the pitying villagers. One man came first, bringing the bad news; it was Joe Brazybone. He had been hovering about in his boat, as he often did, fishing now and then, but keeping an eye on Giles; had not dared to follow him up the rocks, for Giles had been strange for a long time now, and had kept off the old friend; but after a time Joe grew alarmed, and climbed up, and found him already cold. He came now, and tried in some awkward fashion to break the news. Isla took little note of the strange figure at the time, though she knew it well enough afterward.
“Giles ain’t very well,” said Joe, edging round the corner of the house.
“You tell your ma that, little Heron lady, and I’ll keep out o’ sight, for she don’t like old Joe, your ma don’t. You tell her Giles ain’t very well. And—see here, little lady! When you’ve a-told her that, foller it up, you know! foller it up! tell her he’s bad, and then, kind o’ easy, tell her he’s mortal bad, and they’re fetchin’ of him home.”
Here he broke off short, with a glance behind him; and thrusting the child gently forward, with an earnest gesture, he slunk out of sight as Mary Heron came to the door. Next moment the men were there.