But there was no time to pause—even now, he might be waiting for her, on the beach; and still, on through night, and rain, and storm she pressed, until at last, drenched, dripping, and totally exhausted, she gained the wet, slippery beach.
Half dead, with cold and exhaustion, she sank on a rock, and cowered beneath the pitiless blast. The dull booming of the waves near sent a thrill of nameless awe and horror, into her very soul.
She could not long sit there, exposed to the peltings of the storm; so, wrapping her mantle still more closely around her, she rose with a shiver, and strove to pierce through the thick darkness, in search of that loved form.
In vain! The gloom of Hades could not be deeper than that which enveloped every object.
But, at that instant, there came a flash of lightning, illuminating, for a single moment, with a blue, unearthly glare, the bleak, slippery shingle, and revealing the black, heaving sea, with its foam-crested billows. Nothing more. As far as she could strain her eyes, no living thing but herself, stood on the shore.
"Oh, why does he not come?" was her heart's agonized cry. "Does he not know, in spite of storm and tempest, I am awaiting him here?"
Another flash of lightning, revealing the dark, deserted beach, the wildly shrieking ocean, and a pair of gleaming, serpent-like eyes, watching from behind a rock, revealing the slight, delicate form of a female standing alone on the shore.
"Oh, he will not come! I know it! Shall I stay here longer, or shall I go home!" thought Christie, in an agony of doubt.
Still another lurid blaze of flame! And now, looking up, she uttered a cry of joy; for the tall figure of a man, wrapped in a cloak, was seen descending the rocks, coming toward her.
"Oh, he is here! he is here!" was her joyful cry. "Dearest, dearest Willard! I knew you would come!" And springing forward she threw herself into his arms.