“They ken the signs better than I do. They’ll lose no time.”
He lingered still, going as far as the pier head which was not yet quite deserted; but he turned his face homeward at last.
“It will be a long night, I doubt!”
And so it was. Many a look he cast to the sky, which before midnight grew like lead, showing neither moon nor star. A long and heavy night it was. Sleeping or waking, it was the same; dark with fears, vague and unreasonable, which he could not put away—with painful dreams, and startled wakenings, and longings for the day which came at last—a dismal day, with a dull grey mist lying low on land and sea, darkening all things.
It brightened a little as the morning advanced, but he did not hasten early to the town. There was no real cause for anxiety he assured himself, the fog would account for their delay. They would be home soon. He was not anxious, but he shrank from the thought of the pier head and all the folk looking out for them and wondering where they were and when they would be home. And so it was noon before he called at his sister’s door to assure her that there was really no cause for alarm. The fog would account for the long delay. There might have been danger to folk not so well acquainted with every nook and headland and current along the shore, but there could hardly be danger to these two.
What a long day it was! And when the gloaming began to fall, there was still no word of them. He went on to Miss Jean’s house, and at the door Marion met him. He got a good look of her face this time. Whatever had grieved or angered her, was not in her thoughts now. Her eyes asked eagerly for tidings.
“No word o’ them yet, but they canna be long now,” said Mr Dawson cheerfully. “I have come to ask you for a cup of tea, though I dare say ye have had yours lang syne. Ye maunna be anxious, my dear. There is really no cause to fear for them as yet.”
He had been saying this to himself all day, but his heart was growing sick with anxiety all the same, and though he could hide it from Marion, he knew that he could not hide it from his sister.
“We maun just ha’e patience,” was all that Miss Jean said.
Marion prepared the tea herself, and went out and in and did what was to be done. She made his tea and served him as though she liked to do it, and his eyes followed her with an interest which for the moment half beguiled him from the remembrance of his fears. But there was not much said between them, and by and by he said he would step down to the pier head and take a look at the weather before it was quite dark. Marion looked as if she would like to go too, and all the old anxiety was in her eyes, as she turned them to Miss Jean.