“’Fore God! what is that?”
“What?—Ha! Reach me the hook—there! by ye feet, Seth! Air ye turned into stone, man? It air the hand o’ God, raisin’ the dead out o’ the depths, and sendin’ a light through the darkness!”
But Nathan himself was obliged to get the boat-hook, for Seth Skellet was palsied.
And the child’s blue eyes, not wondering, but terrified now, saw the three men lift the cold, dead form into the boat and lay her dripping before him; and the torch fell from his grasp and its flame expired, as her life’s flame had, in the black, choking waters.
Through the darkness they rowed to the shore—an hour of darkness, when it seemed that even the stars were dimmed and withheld their accustomed light—an hour of darkness, while the child stared, fascinated, at the void eyes, which were staring at him, and his innermost soul shrieked in fear for it to move and ease the horrible spell that held him.
“Youngster, run to the village store an’ tell ’em we hev found it.” They were hoarse words from Seth Skellet’s lips, spoken as she was borne, by strong, tender hands, away from the rippling waters that sang upon the beach, and laid upon the grass-land which her feet had often trod.
And the child obeyed; turned and fled, across fields and meadows—fled from that awful presence, which, to him, was and was not—fled, and paused not till he stood in the village store, where some half-dozen loungers were sitting.
And one man there was who saw in the terrified face the shadow of death; and he cried:
“My life! my Hetty!”
“Dead! drowned!” gasped the child. And he saw the man—tall and grand, with curling hair and warm, dark eyes—spring to his feet, with a cry of anguish; saw him grasp the clothing above his heart, then reel, totter, and fall—fall, as if shot, face downward upon the floor.