Eli's Children Part 65

"No, but let's make haste back," cried Cynthia.

Artingale seemed disposed to loiter, but Cynthia was in earnest, and they hurried back towards where they had left Julia seated on a rock, one of the many scattered about.

It was time they did, for Artingale's words just uttered were not the words of truth.

PART TWO, CHAPTER TWO.

THE STRAY LAMB.

"Don't be alarmed, Cynthia; these rocks are so much alike, and we wandered a good way."

"But I am alarmed, Harry; I am sure it was here."

"It does look like the place, certainly," he said; "but there is another heap further on."

"No, no, this must be the stone. I remember that little pool of clear water, and the patch of seaweed. Oh, we ought not to have left her!"

Artingale could not endorse those words, for he thought it very pleasant to have been alone with Cynthia for the past ten minutes--half an hour-- hour--or two hours--he had not the slightest idea how long it had been; but the trouble and dread in her agitated young face were so marked that he began to throw off the good-humoured carelessness he felt disposed to show, and bestirred himself to find the missing girl.

"Give me your hand, pet," he said, "and let's get on to the next pile.

I am sure we shall find her there."

"No, no, Harry. The more I look the more I feel sure it was here we left her."

"Well, perhaps it was, little one," he said, looking down into the earnest eyes, "and she has grown tired, and begun to walk back. We shall find her sitting down waiting for us."

Cynthia gave him her hand, and they ran for a short distance over the s.h.i.+ngle; but it was too rough to go far save at a walk, and then, reaching another of the little wildernesses of ma.s.ses of rock, the result of a fall from the towering cliffs, they searched about for a few minutes without result, and then walked a little way down towards the sea, so as to command a view back towards the battery and the works at the east end of the town.

There was a man tramping along with a shrimping net over his shoulder, an old lady seated on the s.h.i.+ngle under an umbrella, a girl with a yellow-covered book perched upon a stone, and about twenty yards out an elderly gentleman with his trousers tucked up, standing in the water reading a newspaper; not a soul besides on that unfrequented part.

"Oh, Harry!" gasped Cynthia, who was ready to burst into tears.

"Why, you little goose," he said tenderly; "there's nothing to be afraid of. She isn't along here, that's certain."

"And yet you say there's nothing to be afraid of," half sobbed Cynthia.

"Why, of course not. She hasn't gone back, or we should see her somewhere. We must have pa.s.sed her. I know she must have gone close up to the cliff, so as to find a shady place. All along here is so much bigger and wilder than any one would think."

"She must have gone up on the cliff, Harry."

"Well, dear," he said, laughing, "you and Julie are the nearest approach to little angels I ever knew, but even you two have no wings, and I don't think Julie would get up the face of that cliff without."

"Oh, pray, Harry, don't talk so, now," she cried; "I'm afraid--I don't know what to think."

"Don't be afraid, little one," he said, encouragingly, "we'll find her directly."

"Is it possible that any of the cliff has fallen, and crushed her?" said Cynthia, piteously.

He started, but spoke the next moment decisively.

"No. Such a fall would have made a noise like thunder. Depend upon it she has changed her place, and we shall find her fast asleep: unless the Red Rover, or some other das.h.i.+ng pirate, has landed, and carried her off in his yacht."

"Oh, Harry, you make fun of it all," cried Cynthia, with a stamp of her little foot, which crushed a tender, young, and unoffending mussel; "and I feel now quite a chill of horror lest that dreadful man--Oh, look, look, Harry! Who is that?"

She grasped his arm convulsively, and pointed at a part of the cliff, about a couple of hundred yards farther away from the town, where a figure could be seen cautiously climbing from ledge to ledge along the face of the stones, and in a position where a false step or a slip must have meant his falling a battered and bleeding ma.s.s upon the s.h.i.+ngle beneath.

There was a fascination in the scene that held them breathless, and as Cynthia's hand glided into his, and clung to him convulsively, Artingale felt the little palm grow wet and cold.

It was a most daring proceeding, and such as none but the most reckless would have attempted; but the man seemed to be coolly climbing on, apparently without effort, though every here and there he had to cling to the face of the rock, and remain motionless, as if to gather breath.

"By George!" exclaimed Artingale at last, as the man climbed nearer and nearer to where the gra.s.s was just visible on the topmost edge, "he's a plucky fellow, Cynthy. I wouldn't do that for a good deal."

"But, Harry--don't you see--don't you see?"

"Only that he is close to the top, dear. There, don't look if it makes you giddy. I'll tell you. He's close up now, and he has got hold of the gra.s.s and stuff. Now he's over the top edge. He's safe enough.

And, yes--there, you can look up now. He's all right, and out of sight."

"But, Harry, Harry," panted Cynthia, "didn't you see? It was that man."

"What man?"

"The man who follows poor Julie."

"By Jove!" cried Artingale; and he started as if to try and follow the man up the cliff.

"No, no," cried Cynthia, clinging to him; "don't leave me, Harry, don't try to climb that dreadful cliff; come and find poor Julie. Oh, Harry, why did we go away?"

For answer, Artingale ground his teeth, and hurried his companion along until they were in front of the rock on which they had left Julia seated.

Ma.s.s after ma.s.s lay singly here; and nearer to the cliff huge pieces were piled one upon the other in confusion just as they had fallen from time to time on splitting off from the face of the precipice.

Helping his companion over some of the rough blocks, and threading his way amongst others, Artingale uttered a cry of satisfaction.

"Here she is, Cynthy!" he exclaimed; and then he stopped short in alarm, so strange and haggard did Julia appear.

She was seated upon a piece of rock at the foot of a large sh.e.l.ly ma.s.s, her cheek resting on the stone, and her hands pressed to her face.

"Julie, dear Julie!" cried her sister, springing to her side; and as Julia heard her voice she slowly lowered her hands, and displayed a countenance alternately flushed and deadly pale, while her eyes looked wild and strange.

"Has he gone?" she whispered, giving a frightened glance round.

"Oh, Julie, tell me, has that man been here--has he dared to speak to you?" cried Cynthia, pa.s.sionately.

"Yes; he came directly you had gone. He was there, there," she whispered, pointing towards the cliff. "Take me away: please take me away."

Her words and looks were those of some frightened child, and on Artingale taking one of her hands she clung to him convulsively.