Tennyson still lay crushed upon the sand; and his spiteful critic would not allow him to be taken up!
They started to return to the hotel—intending to go up the cliff by the same ravine through which they had come down. They knew of no other way.
On reaching the jutting rock that formed the flanking of the cove, all three were brought suddenly to a stand.
There was no path by which they could proceed; they had stayed too long in the cove, and the tide had cut off their retreat.
The water was only a few feet in depth; and, had it been still, they might have waded it. But the flow was coming in with a surge strong enough to sweep them off their feet.
They saw this, but without feeling anything like fear. They regarded it only as an unpleasant interruption.
“We must go in the opposite direction,” said Julia, turning back into the cove, and leading the way around it.
But here again was their path obstructed, just as on the opposite side.
The same depth of water, the same danger to be dreaded from the lashing of the surge!
As they stood regarding it, it appeared to grow deeper and more dangerous!