As they arose to go, Ray, feeling himself bound in courtesy, offered to escort her home, but Pet coldly and curtly declined; and vaulting into her saddle, dashed off at a break-neck pace, madly reckless even for her.
Looking back once, she caught a glimpse of a tall dark form leaning against a tree with folded arms and watching her still. Did she, with her light, sparkling, thoughtless nature, realize the struggle going on in that young heart, between love and pride, at that moment?
Of course, the arrival of Ray and Erminie precluded her “exploring expedition,” as she called it, to the seashore. The next morning, and part of the afternoon, were spent with Erminie; but reaching home a little before sunset, she suddenly remembered it, and started off on the spur of the moment, like a female Don Quixote, in search of adventures.
“It’s too late to begin a regular search,” thought Pet, as she ran down the bank leading to the shore; “so I’ll just have a look round the place, and come back some other day and have a real good hunt for smugglers.”
Fifteen minutes brought her to the beach, and there she paused to look round. The sands for a long distance out were bare; but the tide was slowly tramping inward. On the other hand, a huge wall of beetling rocks and projecting crags met the eye; but these walls of rock were so smooth and perpendicular, and so dizzily high, that the boldest sailor, used to climbing all his life, would have hesitated before attempting to clamber up. There were two paths leading to the shore—the one Pet had just descended, and another about half a mile distant. Between these the massive wall of rock chose to indulge itself in a sudden impetuous rush out, forming a huge projecting shoulder, up which a cat could hardly have climbed safely. The tide always covered this a considerable length of time before it could reach the sands on either side, so that a person caught at high tide on either side found himself cut off from crossing over to the opposite side, unless he had a boat, or could swim.
“Now,” thought Pet, “I’ll have to look sharp and not let the tide catch me on the other side of that bluff, there, or if I do, I’ll have a walk of half a mile along the beach to the other road, and after that over a mile to get home, which is a promenade I am not anxious for. I might swim across, it is true, but swimming with all one’s clothes on is not the pleasantest or safest thing in the world; and all the smugglers this side of Pompey’s Pillar are not worth the cold I would catch. I’ll just walk over and look at the rocks, and then come back again.”
Following up this intention, Pet walked slowly along, scanning the high, dark, frowning rocks with a curious eye. As far as she could see, there was not the slightest trace of an opening anywhere; yet the people said that some place along the shore the smugglers had a rendezvous. Pet’s keen eye detected every fissure large enough to hold a mouse, but no trace of secret cave or hidden cavern could be seen.
“I might have known it was all nonsense,” said Pet, mentally. “The notion of finding an under-ground cave full of robbers and jewels, and all that sort of thing, is too much like a play, or a story in the ‘Arabian Nights,’ to be natural. However, as the night’s fine, I’ll just go and look on the other side of the bluff.”
By this time she had reached the high projecting bowlders, and she paused for a moment to glance at the sea. It was still several yards distant, and Pet felt sure she could go down some distance, and return again before the rising tide would bar her passage.
The sun had set and there was no moon; but the starlight was bright and the sea-breeze cool and invigorating; so Pet, in high spirits, walked on. Here and there she could catch the white sail of some boat, skimming over the waves; but the long beach was lonely and deserted.