And now the carriage cut around the corner and whirled out into the glare of the Parade, and before her the great sea stretched out its leagues of tumbling and shining waves, and she heard the water roaring along the beach, and far away at the horizon she saw a phantom ship. She did not even look at the row of splendid hotels and houses, at the gayly-dressed folks on the pavement, at the brilliant flags that were flapping and fluttering on the New Pier and about the beach. It was the great world of shining water beyond that fascinated her, and awoke in her a strange yearning and longing, so that she did not know whether it was grief or joy that burned in her heart and blinded her eyes with tears. Mrs. Kavanagh took her arm as they were going up the steps of the hotel, and said in a friendly way, “I suppose you have some sad memories of the sea?”
“No,” said Sheila, bravely, “it is always pleasant to me to think of the sea; but it is a long time since—since—”
“Sheila,” said her husband, abruptly, “do tell me if all your things are here;” and then the girl turned, calm and self-collected, to look after rugs and boxes.
When they were finally established in the hotel, Lavender went off to negotiate for the hire of a carriage for Mrs. Kavanagh during her stay, and Sheila was left with the two ladies. They had tea in their sitting-room, and they had it at one of the windows, so that they could look out on the stream of people and carriages now beginning to flow by in the clear yellow light of the afternoon. But neither the people nor the carriages had much interest for Sheila, who, indeed, sat for the most part silent, intently watching the various boats that were putting out or coming in, and busy with conjectures which she knew there was no use placing before her two companions.
“Brighton seems to surprise you very much,” said Mrs. Lorraine.
“Yes,” said Sheila, “I have been told all about it, but you will forget all that; and this is very different from the sea at home—at my home.”
“Your home is in London now,” said the elder lady, with a smile.
“Oh, no!” said Sheila, most anxiously and earnestly. “London, that is not our home at all. We live there for a time—that will be quite necessary—but we shall go back to the Lewis some day soon—not to stay altogether, but enough to make it as much our home as London.”
“How do you think Mr. Lavender will enjoy living in the Hebrides?” said Mrs. Lorraine, with a look of innocent and friendly inquiry in her eyes.
“It was many a time that he has said he never liked any place so much,” said Sheila with something of a blush; and then she added with growing courage, “for you must not think he is always like what he is here. Oh, no! When he is in the Highlands there is no day that is nearly long enough for what has to be done in it; and he is up very early, and away to the hills or the loch with a gun or a salmon-rod. He can catch the salmon very well—oh, very well for one that is not accustomed—and he will shoot as well as any one that is in the island, except my papa. It is a great deal to do there will be in the island, and plenty of amusement; and there is not much chance—not any whatever—of his being lonely or tired when we go to live in the Lewis.”