She thought she heard her granny coming. She rose from the ground and, going to the door, looked out. No one was there; she heard the roaring of the breakers on the rocky coast, and the fierce wind howling up the wild glen, making the surface of the harbour bubble and hiss and foam, and sending the spray, mingled with the cold night wind, high up, even to where she stood.
“I must go and learn why he does not come,” she exclaimed. “Oh, how I wish granny would come back! she may suffer harm coming along the rough path this bleak night in the dark.”
Poor Nelly felt in truth forlorn; but hers was a brave heart, which a fisherman’s wife needs must have, or she could not endure the agitating suspense to which she must day after day throughout her life he exposed, when the tempest howls and the wild waves roar. She went in and put on her hood and cloak. In vain she strove to restrain her agitation. Again she went to the door. She thought she saw through the thick gloom a figure approaching.
“Is that you, dear granny?” she cried out.
“Ay, Nelly, though I have had a hard battle with the wind,” answered Dame Lanreath, in her usually cheery voice. “But my journey is ended, and it was well I went to poor Polly Penduck when I did, for she was in a bad way; the doctor, however, has been with her, and she is all right now.”
Nelly had run forward to lead her grandmother into the house, and she spoke the latter words on her way.
“Why, my child, what is the matter with you?” exclaimed the dame, as she saw her pale and agitated countenance.
Before Nelly could answer, footsteps were heard outside. She hurried back to the door.
“Oh! can it be Michael coming?” exclaimed Nelly. “Michael, Michael, are you there?”
“No, we be Paul and Joseph Penduck,” answered two young voices. “We are on our way home to mother.”