“Because I love him, Mellicent! Because we belong to one another, Rob and I, and I cannot live without him. Because I have asked God to take care of him for me, and I know He will do it!”
Mellicent shrank back aghast. What a confession to have heard from Peggy’s own lips! Peggy, the reserved and dignified; Peggy, who was so scrupulously reticent about her own feelings! She could hardly believe her ears. It seemed unnatural, alarming, almost shocking. Her eyes dropped to the ground, she shuffled uneasily to and fro, and crept quietly away.
Chapter Twenty Seven.
Peggy’s faith was justified, for though the way was long, and the current often swept him aside, Rob struggled on gallantly until, after what seemed an interminable period of suspense, his friends saw him clamber into the boat as she lay on the sandbank. Then for some minutes there was no movement, and though it was to be expected that he would need a rest after his exertions, the faces on shore began to lengthen as time passed by, and brought no sign of an advance.
“I don’t know how he is going to move her now that he is there! Rob is strong enough, but one man is little use in a boat of that size. How can he expect to row her back alone?”
“Against the tide, too! He would wear himself out, and make no progress. I expect he recognises that by this time, and will not attempt it. It would not help us much to see him carried away.”
“He cannot be in a condition to do much pulling, poor fellow! He must be pretty well played out. I’m afraid after all it has been a waste of energy.”
“Rob would not have gone if he had not had some plan in his head. He always thinks before he acts. He would never have risked his life to get to the boat if he had no means of moving her,” said Peggy proudly; and even as she spoke a simultaneous exclamation of delight went up from the watchers, as the end of a sail flapped in the breeze. They were at too great a distance to distinguish the mast, but all had noticed its presence in the bottom of the boat as they rowed out to the island, and now realised in a flash its value under the circumstances. Rob would have no struggling with the oars, he would trust to the sail to carry him back, and so experienced a yachtsman might be trusted to make the most of the opportunity. Arthur tossed his cap into the air, and shouted aloud in pure gladness of heart. Though he had tried to make the best of the situation, he had been oppressed by dread, and each moment, as it passed, had seemed to bring with it some fresh possibility of disaster. The fishermen might not return from their regatta until the following day; the flymen might not be able to organise a search; the weather might change, and turn to rain or wind. The very thought of the consequences of a night spent on the island made him grind his teeth in despair, while Rob’s hazardous expedition had appeared a veritable last straw. But now, in a moment, everything was changed; what before had seemed a hopeless, almost criminal attempt, had become practical certainty, as, borne by the friendly sail, the boat drew nearer and nearer to her goal. Rob’s figure could now be plainly discerned, and presently even his face was distinguishable as he waved back acknowledgments of the cheers sent to him across the water. Half-a-dozen eager hands were waiting to help with the boat as she ran ashore, and there he stood, the water dripping from his clothes, his hair ruffled into a veritable mop of dark brown curls, his face beaming with pleasure and triumph.