To add to their terror, the storm which had surprised Mr. Field, now burst above their heads, and the crash of thunder drowned even the roar of the breakers upon the beach. It suddenly grew so dark that they were unable to distinguish anything more than a few yards away, and the rain coming down in torrents soon completed the drenching which the waves had begun.
Just as they were about to give up in despair, Robin caught sight of a feeble light glimmering upon the cliff above.
"I do believe it is Timothy's cottage," he exclaimed, "and if so, we must be quite near the stair. Yes, here it is, Julius, I am holding the railing in my hand."
In another moment two woebegone little objects were standing before the old man's fire, too exhausted and miserable even to explain what had brought them there in such a plight.
CHAPTER XII
Death and the Tide
The grey dawn was creeping in through the windows of Sea View Cottage, eclipsing the yellow glow of the lamp which had burned all night in the little sitting-room.
Madelaine rose from her chair and pulled up the blind. The wind had abated somewhat, though a stiff breeze still blew from the sea. Dead twigs and fallen leaves were littered over the lawn, and the plants in the border were bent and broken from the effects of the late gale. A great sheaf of white chrysanthemums lay prostrate on the ground just in front of where she stood, the pure blossoms all draggled and smirched.
"How Robin admired those flowers yesterday," she said to herself. "I think I can see him now as he stood beside them, looking back at me with his own bright, happy smile. Shall I never see him run to meet me again--my precious little son!"
As she spoke, she heard the click of the garden gate, and there, right before her on the path, was Robin himself--a pale, rather dishevelled Robin, it is true, but there was no doubt about the reality of the sight.