As It Was in the Beginning

by Philip Verrill Mighels

But her gaze more frequently roved afar, for the ship that did not come. The days were growing sultrier, and constantly more monotonous.

The new moon had come and waxed to the full and was once more waning in the heavens. They were marvelous nights the old orb made upon the island, but always weird and exciting a sense, in Elaine at least, of loneliness and aloofness from the world. On their cliff above the murmurous tides, she and Grenville frequently sat for hours at a time without exchanging a word.

Such times were fraught with strangely exciting moments; and subtle tinglings came unbidden to her nature, giving her pleasures wildly lawless and precious beyond expression. Yet she feared them also when they came, and refused to give them meaning.

But to-night a new wistfulness burned in her eyes as she turned to her silent companion.

"I wonder," she said, "if we couldn't put a fresher flag on our pole to-morrow."

"Sure shot," said Sid, "the freshest flag that ever grew."

She was silent again for several moments. Then she said:

"What should we do if a year went by—two years, perhaps, or even more—and a ship should never come?"

"Do?" said Grenville. "Sail away."

"I know. But I mean, supposing we found no place to go—and had to come back every time."