“Not anxious—more than usual. Oh, no! Of course the wind and the waves have something to say to me most nights. But I can only wait.”
“Yes, it is the waiting that is so terrible. And it must be for a good while yet.”
“For months. We cannot say how many. We seldom see the ships home within the year.”
“And the ‘John Seaton’ sailed on the tenth of April. It is nearly three months still till then. And to think of all who are waiting even here in Portie—wives and mothers and sisters. It makes one’s heart sick to think about it.”
Then she sat silent, with her eyes turned toward the window, through which was to be seen the dull grey sea, all unconscious of the uneasy glances with which Mrs Calderwood was from time to time regarding her.
“Mrs Calderwood,” said she at last, “how will you ever bear it as the time draws near? The waiting and the suspense, I mean?”
“My dear, I have had worse troubles to bear.”
“Ah! yes; but those will make this all the worse to bear.”
“I can but trust in God and have patience. He is very merciful.”
“Very merciful. But then—He lets terrible things happen whiles.”