It was when Carolyn was able to walk out upon the piazza that her mother told her that parts of the Vireo had been found and identified unmistakably; they had been washed ashore a few miles down the coast.
"It's no use hoping any longer," she said.
"I don't hope; I haven't hoped from the very first," was the answer.
There was something so strange in the girl's tone that her mother looked at her in a kind of terror.
Carolyn, closely wrapped, was sitting in the sunlight on the veranda.
"I don't know what you mean," said Mrs. Ffolliott, feebly. "I'm sure I had the strongest hope for several days. It seemed to me they must have been saved somehow; and Rodney was such a good swimmer."
"So was Prudence a good swimmer," said Carolyn.
"Yes, she was. But I don't see what happened to the boat; they were—"
"Mother," said Carolyn, wearily, "don't go on talking like that."
"No, no," the mother said, soothingly, but in a perplexed voice; "I won't say anything. We have to bear whatever Providence sends upon us."