At length--they knew not when or how the idea came into their minds, but probably it was because a star, appearing to have parted from the rest, came down, and seemed to be pursuing an independent course, and to outstrip its fellows, being only, when they looked a little later, the lantern hung out upon a passing ship--they started from their reverie and stood up.
"The dew is falling; you will be chilled." It was Joseph who spoke. "Let me button my coat round your shoulders. It is not thick or warm, but at least it adds another fold of covering."
"Thanks, but I am warm.... No; I do not want it. But you are kind to mean giving it. Only you should not think that I would strip you of your coat. Is it not time that we were turning back?"
"Yes; we have strayed a long way from the hut. The ground is rough, and it is so dark one cannot see where one steps. You will stumble. Give me your hand, and let me lead."
The unevenness of the ground, and the consequent stumbling among rocks and boulders in the uncertain dimness, soon brought them back to the level of everyday life; and when at length, after an hour of floundering and groping, they came in sight of the fire-glow streaming from the fishermen's shelter, they were completely themselves again--gayer even than their wont, in the reaction from the deeper feelings in which they had been lately steeped.
They were the last of the party to come in. The others were already round the fire, assisting with their advice the experienced Jake, who was on his knees broiling fish upon the coals. They made a tolerable supper, without bread or salt, Jake assuring Wilkie that, coming from the sea, fish needed none, and that they would lie the lighter on his "stommick" for lack of fixings. And then the girls were left alone, and the men withdrew to the boat, under whose shelter they contrived to sleep till morning, when they sailed from the desert island, each with some memory or experience to mark it in his recollection for life.
CHAPTER XXI.
[IS SHE HERE?]
The house was very quiet when Gilbert Roe met Maida and Mrs Denwiddie at breakfast on the morning after his arrival. Only an invalid, one or two old people, some dull ones who had no friends, and a few young children with nurses, were scattered here and there at the deserted tables. He adjusted his eyeglass and looked about. He saw as well as other people; but, like them, he found the glass useful as a demonstration on many occasions.
"I thought," he said, "you told me the house was full. This is the poorest showing I have come on yet for a seaside resort in August. Not by any means a promising crowd to live in--and to-morrow is Sunday. One can't well get away before Monday morning."