"It's for mother's sake!" he repeated, when the personal discomfort of his position warned him there can be few places wetter or more cheerless than a small boat unprotected from the elements when the rain descends in really gross solidity.
Mrs. Court felt none the worse for her journey as she drove to Castle Stewart late that afternoon.
She was really rather amused at having flung caution to the winds, and was by no means depressed at landing in a hurricane of squall and dirt on the dear, familiar Irish shore.
Her first thought was for Hal as she crossed the threshold of her old home, and a sudden keen misgiving pierced her like a knife when faces of frightened distress greeted her on the doorstep.
"Where is Hal?"
The words broke sharply; the bright, magnificent eyes flashed a glance of terror from right to left.
"We don't know!" The answer came unsteadily from faltering lips. "He disappeared this morning; he was last seen by one of the gardeners, running towards the Lough, slipping over the slimy stones and rocks. The man wondered we allowed him out in the wet to play on the weedy boulders, but the foolish fellow said nothing till it was too late. When he heard Hal was missing he spoke, but not till then. The shore has been searched, but——"
Mrs. Court stayed to hear no more. The blank, hopeless faces of the speakers told the rest.
Miss Ainsworth was weeping hysterically, and grandmamma's features grew stone-like in their set misery.
All the new-comer realized was that Hal—her Hal—had met with some disaster. Only the gravest accident would keep him away at such a moment. Her mind leapt to the worst fears. Like one possessed she rushed alone down the long drive, hardly knowing what she did, till her feet reached the very brink of the flowing tide.