But here she was disappointed, for Mr. Winter led them so quickly through the bare stone hall that they saw very little of the house, and then he showed them into a small, bare room, with a window high up out of their reach, and there left them. And as he went they heard him turn the key on them, at which they looked at each other in horror, while he walked slowly away to his own sitting-room to think; for what to do with the pair now he had them was more than he could tell. He wanted to frighten them, yet he had no thought now of sending for a policeman. In fact, he would have liked to have sent them both away with a warning, only he thought it was better that they should be kept a little longer as a punishment.
Meanwhile, Bessie, having got up very early to be ready for her husband on his return from his fishing, went to call Aaron rather earlier than usual, and was shocked to find his bed empty and himself flown. Astonished and troubled, she went to Loveday’s room, and, opening the door gently, peeped in. When she found Loveday’s room empty too, and the windows wide open, she grew really alarmed. She listened, but there was no sound but the voice of the sea and the gulls. The silence frightened her. Where could they be? She ran to the front door, and looked out over the sands. No; no sign of them there. She searched the house and called and called, but no answer came. What could she do next? Find them she must, but where? Her eye fell on the sparkling sea.
“Oh, not out there!” she cried, turning sick with fear.
Far out she saw the boats coming in, but they could not help her or tell her anything. She turned away, unable to bear the sight; and as she did so her eye fell on the path up the cliff. A ray of comfort crept into her heart. Something seemed to tell her that that path would lead her to them. Of course, there was risk there, too, but not such risk.
Without waiting to put on hat or shawl, poor Bessie hurried up the steep path. She forced herself to look over the rugged sides every now and then, though it made her feel ill to do so, until she came at last to that spot where the children had thrown the straw over the day before. But when she came to that she turned away, faint and full of horror.
“I can’t look,” she groaned. “I can’t! I can’t! I’ll get a fence put round there if I have to do it myself. The least little slip, and nothing could save one, whether man, woman, child, or poor dumb animal.”
When she reached the top of the hill she met a new perplexity. Where could she look now? Which way could she go?—to Mr. Winter’s, or right on over the downs which stretched away to the very edge of the cliff?
“Well,” she thought, “they wouldn’t go to Mr. Winter’s if they could help it;” and she turned and walked in the other direction, on and on, past the Fairy Ring, and all the time she gazed about her, but never a speck of anything living or moving could she see, and she turned away in despair. Coming slowly back, she once more reached Mr. Winter’s gate.
“I’ve a good mind to go in and ask Mrs. Tucker if she has caught sight or sound of them,” she sighed. “It isn’t likely, but when one’s in despair— Oh, my Aaron! my Aaron and Miss Loveday! What will the master and missus say?”
And poor Bessie had begun to cry with fright and misery, when, just as she had turned in at Mr. Winter’s gate, who should she see coming down the pebbly path towards her but two dejected little figures, walking hand in hand.