Her feigned laughter was strangled by her sobs. Her father uttered a groan, and let his head drop forward into his hands.
“Dom they raskil Frenchies!” he cried: “they’n been and killed my only son!”
“Come, men,” said the officer, “we’ll take ourselves off. This is not a likely place for a French prisoner to take refuge in. You’d soon give him up, wouldn’t you, Mr Rainford?”
Joe Rain ford raised his head and looked at him steadily.
“Yo’n heerd what my lass telled yo’,” he said, doggedly; “there isn’t nobry here, nobbut me, and her,—and her sweetheart!”
THROUGH THE COTTAGE WINDOW
The gable end of the cottage faced the shore, and I first became conscious of the window by the sudden appearance of a faint light behind its narrow panes. It was a stormy evening, the wind sweeping down between the dunes in sudden gusts that caught up the sand from their steep sides—which were indeed but sparsely covered with stargrass—and sent it driving seawards in blinding eddies. I had wandered overlong about the damp stretch of shore that bordered the remains of the submarine forest, interested first by the curious contrasts of colour to be noticed there—the silvery sweep of sand sloping downwards to the dusky purplish brown of the remnants aforesaid, in the irregular surface of which little pools and rivulets of water reflected the sky; the blue-green of the star-grass interspersed with patches of dwarf willows and bilberry plants, the foliage of which at this season had taken on a variety of tints. Later on, when the tide had come roaring and leaping in, I had been attracted by the magnificence of its fury, and had watched wave after wave roll towards me, gathering and swelling as though with suppressed rage, and finally breaking with a boom that went echoing through the hills, while the spray dashed ever higher and higher. Fascinated as I had been by the sight, I did not notice that the early autumnal sunset was over, until a sudden roller, more adventurous than its fellows, came rushing to my very feet, and, turning hurriedly to escape from it, I observed that the world behind me was wrapped in gloom, save for the lingering glare at the horizon. Almost at the moment that I became aware of the approach of night, I became also conscious that the gusts of wind before alluded to no longer carried stinging clouds of sand with them, but were laden with a cold mist of rain almost as painful to meet, a mist which, indeed, as I hastily threaded my way through the yielding sand, soon turned to a downpour.
Clearly, unless I wished to be drenched as well as benighted on this lonely waste, I must at once seek shelter; and, while I was disconsolately wondering whither I should bend my steps, a sudden ray of light drew my attention to the little habitation I had before noticed. Drawing my cloak closely round me I made my way thither with all the speed I could muster, and knocked loudly at the closed door; but my summons passed unheeded, being most probably unheard in the increasing fury of the gale; and, after repeated raps on the panels and rattlings of the latch, I went round to the window, in the hope that my efforts to attract attention might meet with some success from this point. No curtain hung behind the panes, and pressing my face close to them I peered into the room within. It was a small kitchen, kept with a neatness and cleanliness which one learns to expect among north-country folk. A small fire burnt upon the hearth, and a candle flickered in a tin sconce over the homely mantle-shelf. By the light of these I descried the figure of a woman sitting by the hearth; her hands were folded on her lap, and her eyes were fixed upon the fire. She might have been any age between fifty and sixty; the slight and erect form, and handsome face, rendered remarkable by strongly-marked black brows, would incline one to name the lesser figure, had not the deep lines about eyes and mouth, and the snow-white, if still abundant hair, inclined one to think her an older woman.
But I was in no mood to examine or criticise just then; with my face still close to the casement I tapped sharply on the topmost pane. The woman started, and turned her face towards me, grasping the elbows of her chair with both hands, but not otherwise attempting to move. I tapped again, more impatiently. Still remaining seated she stretched out both arms towards the window, a smile breaking over her face. Such a strange smile! Tender, even yearning, and yet one might almost say, fearful.
Losing patience, I tapped again, and nodded. With arms still stretched out she slowly left her chair and dropped upon her knees.