She kissed the dog on the forehead; then pointed to the kreel of shells and seaweed on the red, smooth piece of rock.
"Take care of them, dear Bronze," she murmured; "and wait till I come back. Wait here."
She did not mean to command; she only meant to console him by the appointment of some service.
Bronze looked in her face with eyes of woe and longing; but he made no moan or sound, but only stretched himself beside the kreel on guard. I am always glad to think that as she went she turned, and kissed him once again.
The boat flew fast over the water. When boats leave you, and drag your heart with them, they always go like that; and when they come, and your heart darts out to meet them, then they are so slow!
The boat flew like a seagull, the sun bright upon her sail. Bronze, left upon the rock, lifted his head and gave one long, low wail. It echoed woefully and terribly over the wide, quiet waters. They gave back no answer—not even the poor answer that lies in echo.
It was very still there. Nothing was in sight except that single little sail shining against the light, and flying—flying—flying.
Now and then you could hear a clock striking in the distant village, the faint crow of a cock, the far-off voices of children calling to one another.
The little sea-mouse stole athwart a pool; the grey sea-crabs passed like a little army; the tiny sea creatures that dwelt in rosy shells thrust their delicate heads from their houses to peep and wonder at the sun. But all was noiseless. How dared they make a sound, when that great sea, that was at once their life and death, was present with its never-ceasing "Hush!"