Girls New and Old

"That is a fine creature," he said; "whether boy or girl. I repeat that the creature is fine. I don't often pay compliments to the softer sex, but I like that Irish girl. Now, can anyone in this room tell me what is the matter with her?"

Cecil flung down her book, Molly stopped darning, and all the pairs of eyes were fixed on Mr. Danvers.

"Are you talking about Kitty?" asked Charlie.

"Yes, boy, I am," replied Mr. Danvers. "I am talking about the individual whom you all call Kate. A fine unworldly creature, with a dash of poetry about her. I believe I could even teach her to respect Homer, if I had her under my sway for a spell. But what's the matter with her?"

"We didn't know there was anything the matter," said Cecil. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, why isn't she in this room instead of being drowned in an awful gale of this kind?"

"Oh, weather is a matter of indifference to Kate!" answered Molly. "She is Irish, you know. I think she was quite delighted at the thought of going down to see the sea in a storm."

"Well, I hope she'll come back soon," remarked Mr. Danvers. "It isn't safe for a girl to be out in an awful gale of this kind, particularly a girl with the look in her eyes which she wore when I met her this morning."

"What sort of look?" asked Cecil, rising from her seat and coming up to the little man.

"A reckless, defiant, wretched look, which a young thing ought never to wear," he replied. "I am going out now to look for her. It isn't often I see a woman worth putting myself out about, but she's one. You can come with me, Maurice, if you like."

"Yes, sir, with pleasure," replied Maurice.

"And I," "And I," "And I!" cried the three other boys. "You can't keep us back, Cecil; we mean to go."

Cecil did not reply.

"Now that the men of the party have made themselves scarce, perhaps we can read," she said.

She resumed her book placidly; she was evidently not in the least anxious about Kate. Molly leaned back on her sofa and took up her darning. Matilda went to the window. It was strange that Matilda should be the only one of the three girls who felt the least bit uncomfortable, but such was the case. She, too, had seen that startled, defiant look in Kate's dark eyes. Perhaps there was danger down by the shore. Certainly the gale was an awful one. How the wind did shriek and scream! How the rain rattled against the window panes!

"Of course I can't pretend to care for her," said Matilda to herself, "but I shall be a little more comfortable when she comes home. I should not like her to be knocked down or hurt in any way; I should feel that I had done it. Oh, nonsense! what in the world am I thinking about? That I had done it? What have I to do with it? All the same, I'll be glad when she comes back. Mr. Danvers said she looked in trouble; well, yes, she did."

"Matilda, won't you sit down?" said Molly; "you do fidget so by the window."

"I can't help fidgeting," said Matilda; "there's such an awful gale on. Say, you two girls, won't you be pleased when Kate comes back?"

"Of course," said Cecil, looking up with an expression of surprise; "but I didn't know that you cared."

"You think I care for nothing," said Matilda; "you have a hateful opinion of me."

"Sit down, Matty," said Molly, in a kind voice. "Here's a cozy seat on the sofa, and here is your novel, nice and handy."

"I can't read," said Matilda; "I am frightened. I never heard such wind, and how dark it is getting! What an awful day! I certainly do hate the seaside in winter."

"No one asked you to come," said Cecil. "If you won't read, perhaps you will stop talking. Molly, I think I'll get Mr. Danvers to go over this passage with me; I can't quite get at the meaning of it. Do you think he will mind?"

"No, of course he won't; he'll love to help you," said Molly.

"There's a flash of lightning," exclaimed Matilda, covering her face with, her hands. "Oh, how vivid! oh, I'm terrified of lightning! What a clap of thunder! it almost shook the house. Girls, it isn't safe for Kate to be out in this storm, is it?"

Another flash of lightning came, even more blinding than the first. Matilda crouched and shivered. Cecil and Molly put down their different occupations and walked to the windows.

"I do wish they were all in," said Cecil. "It certainly is an awful day."

"Well, here they are, they're coming," said Molly. "Don't you see Jimmy, how he rushes down the street? and that's Charlie with him, and there's Ted in the background."

A moment later the three younger boys dashed into the room.

"I say, you girls," cried Jimmy, "there's something awful up! Oh, we don't know what it is! but Kate can't be found anywhere, and Mr. Danvers and Maurice have gone on to the coastguard station to get some of the coastguards to help to look for her. There is an awful gale down by the shore, and the tide will be several feet higher than usual to-night, and she's nowhere to be seen."

"I knew it!" cried Matilda; "I knew it, and it is my fault!"

She fell down in a heap on the floor, and lay there, with her face hidden.

The girls and the three boys, who were dripping wet, stood and stared at her.

"Do speak!" said Cecil, catching Jimmy by the shoulders and turning him toward her. "Let Matilda alone. What did you say about Kate?"

"That – that no one can find her. She's nowhere along the shore," said Jimmy.

"But why should she be there at all?"

"She was there. An old fisherman saw her; he saw her more than two hours ago. She was going toward the caves where the skeletons are."

"Well," said Cecil, "well, speak! What is it, Jimmy? What is the matter? You look – terrified."

"I am," said Jimmy; "I can't help it. It takes a great deal to make a coward of me, but I am a coward now. It is Kitty, you know, Cecil. Cecil, they say the caves are completely covered; the others say they must be full of water now, and – and it's Kitty. If she's there, she's drowned like a rat. Oh, I'm going to help! I'll go back – I will help! Maurice and Mr. Danvers sent me back, but I will help to find her."

"I can't realize it," said poor Cecil, putting her hand to her forehead. "What are Maurice and Mr. Danvers doing?"

"They are going to take out a lifeboat to try and reach the caves."

"But they'll be drowned, too," said Molly.

"As if they cared for that when there's a girl to save!" said Jimmy, in a tone of withering scorn. "What are boys and men for but to save plucky girls like Kitty? Oh, I say, I wish you wouldn't make so much noise, Matilda!"

"Do get up, Matty, and stop crying and pulling your hair about," said Molly.

Cecil did not speak, but her face was like a sheet.

"It is my fault," said Matilda; "it is my fault!"

"What in the world do you mean?"

Matilda sat up and stared round her. For the first time in her whole life she was completely natural; she absolutely forgot herself.

"I did it," she said; "I goaded her to it. She'll never come home; she'll be drowned, and I shall be haunted by her all the rest of my days."

"Stop talking in that way, and tell us the truth," said Cecil sternly. "What did you do? Speak at once! Oh, what a mistake we made in bringing you here!"

"You did; I wish I'd never come. I made her nearly mad. I don't care who knows now. Perhaps I wouldn't have been so bad if you hadn't been so cruel and spiteful."

"I?" said Cecil.

"Yes, you – you hate me so! I wouldn't have done it, perhaps, if only Molly had been here. Molly really tries to be good."

"Tell us!" said Cecil. "Stop talking about your motive. Speak – quick!"

"I heard all that Miss Forester said the other day about Kate."

"Then you eavesdropped again?"

"Yes."

"When and where?"

"In the shelter down by the shore. I was afraid the boys would bully me, and I crept into the back part, where there was repairing going on; and I pulled a tarpaulin over me, and no one saw me. You and Molly came in, and you read Miss Forester's letter aloud. I heard everything, and I was delighted. I was glad that Kate was to be humbled, and was to be only a charity girl. You dropped the letter going upstairs. I found it and put it in my pocket. I was very anxious that Kate should know the truth."

"You are a nice specimen of humanity," said Cecil.

"Oh, do let her speak now, Cecil!" said Molly.

"I don't care who knows," said Matilda. "Oh, there's another awful flash of lightning! I'm afraid I'll be struck; I'm not a bit fit to die. Oh, yes, I'm sorry I've been such a bad girl! You can't scold me, Cecil, more than I scold myself. Oh, there's another flash! Oh, I shall certainly be struck! Isn't it safest to go down into a cellar or to get into a feather bed?"

"Do go on!" said Cecil.

"Oh, I'm terrified! Oh, I know I'm a bad girl! You can't hate me more than I hate myself. Oh, dear, do let me take off my watch, and fling the keys out of my pocket! It isn't safe in a storm to have any sort of metal about you."

"Will you go on?" said Cecil.

"Yes, yes! I wanted Kate to know. You thought you had burned the letter with some other rubbish. I acted on that idea, and tore the letter in two, and burned the edges, and stuck the pieces under the fender here. Then last night I pushed the fender aside, and Kate saw the letter, and she recognized the writing, and I snatched it up and read a passage aloud before she could stop me. I read the part which told her everything. She knew her money was gone, and she was to be a charity girl. Oh, she was mad, mad, and she must have gone out to drown herself to-day! I expect she did. She's horribly proud, though you think her good. It's an awful sin on her part to be so proud. Why should she mind being a charity girl, if she is one? Oh, dear, oh, dear! another flash! That lightning will strike me dead. Oh, girls! do you think God will forgive me; do you think he will?"

"I can't speak to you," said Cecil. "I am going out."

CHAPTER XXVI.

THE OPENING IN THE CLIFF

CECIL walked toward the door; Molly was following, when Matilda pulled her back.

"You shan't leave me," she said, flinging her arms round Molly's knees. "I won't be left alone in this awful, terrible black storm. You know how wicked I am, Molly, and that I am not fit to die. You can't – you shan't leave me! God will never forgive you if you do."

Molly hesitated for a minute; the thought of her vow in the cathedral came back to her. She longed to fly out after Cecil, but after all, she could do nothing in the fearful gale, and Matilda – wretched Matilda – really needed her presence.

"All right; I will stay with you," she said. She dropped down on the nearest chair and covered her face with her hands.

Meanwhile Cecil, having slipped on her waterproof cloak and tied a hat on her head, ran out into the gale; the boys had long ago disappeared.

Cecil was a country-bred girl, but she had never been out in such weather before. Her old waterproof cloak was not very waterproof, after all, and in the space of a few minutes she was literally wet through. The rain was running in rivers down the little street, the puddles were pools, the pools were ponds, the ponds were small lakes.

"If this goes on, there will be a flood," thought Cecil. "How am I to get to the caves? How am I to save Kate? Oh, what awful lightning! It must be almost directly over our heads; there is not a second between the flash and the peal of thunder. Poor Kate, is she alive now? Why did she go to the cave where the skeletons are? We should have had none of this terrible trouble but for Matilda. But why did Kate feel it so much? Is Maurice's life to be sacrificed to Kate? I must find Maurice; he mustn't go in the lifeboat. No, no, he shan't! What shall I do? How am I to reach the coastguard station, in the teeth of such wind and rain as this?"

Cecil struggled on, every nerve strung to the highest tension; every faculty and force in her body stimulated to its greatest pitch to enable her to win the day in this terrible battle with the weather. She was buffeted and knocked about; her hat was torn from her head; her hair was loosened and flew wildly about her in the gale; she was so wet, too, that her heavy garments clung to her and impeded her progress. Suddenly, as she ran, a thought occurred to her. To attempt to put out to sea in such a gale as this was sheer and utter madness. Such a storm had not been known on the coast for many years. Cecil in all her life had never encountered such weather. If Mr. Danvers and Maurice really persuaded the coastguard people to launch the lifeboat, they would only cause their own death, and the death of the men who went with them.

"I must stop them," thought Cecil. "I would do anything that human being could do to save Kate, but she can't be saved that way. I know what boys are in a moment of excitement; I know that my boys, at least, have not a scrap of fear in them. Thank God, they are not cowards! and I'd give them, yes, I would, if there were any chance of saving Kate, after all; but to know that there isn't, and then to give them up – oh, I can't do that! Stay, what have I heard? Is there not some way of reaching the caves – some way from the top of the cliff? What was that story Jimmy told us one night about a smuggler who hid treasures in the cave and hauled up his goods by the cliff? I remember the night quite well, and Jimmy's face, and how we begged and implored of him to stop talking rubbish; but perhaps there is something in it, after all. Oh, if I can only reach the coastguard station before the men have lowered the lifeboat!"

Cecil battled on desperately and bravely. For some time she obtained partial shelter by means of a high wall which guarded a certain part of the road, but to reach the coastguard station she had to cross a headland. There was not a scrap of shelter here; nothing whatever to break the fury of the wind, and the lashing, biting power of the rain. To add to her discomforts, it was turning bitterly cold, too; the rain was changing into sleet, the great hailstones hit Cecil's cheeks, lips, and forehead, causing her severe pain. She shut her eyes for one desperate moment, and almost gave up all hope of reaching her destination.

Suddenly the welcome sound of a human voice reached her ears.

"You'd best not go on, miss," said the voice; "the storm gets worse. Don't you venture nigh to the edge of the cliff; it aint safe."

Cecil looked up; a big, burly Jack tar was standing within an inch of her.

"I'm so glad I've met you," she said. "I must get to the coastguard station, without a moment's delay."

"Whatever for, miss?" said the man. "I don't believe you can," he added, "the storm's that fierce."

"I must," said Cecil; "it is a matter of life or death. There is a young lady drowning in one of the caves down by the sea, and my brother and another gentleman have gone up to the station to ask your men to lower the lifeboat."

"Whew!" said the sailor, drawing in his breath and emitting a long whistle; "those that go out to sea to-day do it with their eyes open. Why, no boat, lifeboat or not, would live in this gale half a minute, miss. Is it to help or hinder you want to reach the station? I've not been there for an hour or two. I say, miss, no lifeboat ought to put out to sea to-day."

"It is to prevent it – to prevent it," said Cecil. "It is because of my brother. I can't have him drowned. Oh, be quick! can't you help me to get to the station? He is so fearless, and – "

"Take my arm, miss," said the sailor.

He turned without a word, pulled Cecil's hand through his arm, and, turning to face the gale, walked quickly in the direction of the coastguard station.

Cecil never remembered afterward how the end of that walk was accomplished. They reached the station just in time to see Mr. Danvers and Maurice helping two or three sailors to get the lifeboat out of its shed.

"You can't do it!" said Cecil, rushing down into their midst; "it isn't safe; it only means that several will be drowned instead of one."

"Then we must drown," said Maurice, with set teeth. "We must take our chance; it is a desperate thing, I know, but we can't stand here and do nothing, and let a girl die like a rat in a hole. I am surprised at you, Cecil!"

"Don't look at me like that, Maurice," said Cecil. "I am desperate – I don't pretend to be anything else. I'd let you go if there was any use in it, but there isn't. No boat could live in such a gale."

"You are right there, miss," said one of the coastguard men. "We couldn't refuse the gentlemen when they were so desperate earnest; but such a gale hasn't been known on the coast for the last twenty years."

"Come here, Jimmy," said Cecil suddenly. "What was that story you told us about a smuggler hiding goods in some of the caves?"

Jimmy, whose face was blanched with terror, brightened up considerably at Cecil's words.

"What a goose I was to forget!" he said. "It is true, isn't it, Evans?" he added, going up and standing in front of one of the tall coastguard men.

"What is true, master?"

"That there's an opening at the top of the cliff, which leads right down into one of the caves – the cave where the skeletons are?"

"Well, I've never seen it, sir, but my grandfather used to speak of it. It's my belief it's closed up by now."

"Let us try and find it," said Cecil. "There is not a vestige of hope of saving Kate by the sea. Even if the lifeboat could live in such a gale, she would be dashed to pieces on the rocks by the caves. Let us go to the top of the cliff and search for the opening."

"It is a sensible thought," said Mr. Danvers. "I will go, anyhow. I hate giving up the lifeboat, but I don't believe she would live for a moment in this storm. The other idea has but a glimmer of a chance, but we may as well try it. Now, boys, start away. Evans, perhaps you will come, too, and lend a hand."

"That I will, sir, and so will my mate, Sharp."

"And I too, sir," said a coastguard man of the name of Adams.

The little party was soon under way. They held each other's hands, and in this manner were able to struggle against the ever-increasing storm. The coastguard men had provided themselves with coils of rope and some grappling-irons to fasten into the top of the cliff. The distance from where they now stood to the cliff over the caves was nearly a mile; but, after a fierce tussle with wind and weather, they reached the spot; and then their desperate and forlorn search for the lost opening began.

CHAPTER XXVII.

ROCK OF AGES

MEANWHILE, Kate sat in the cave. She was all alone. In front of her raged the angry sea. She watched it at first from the entrance to the cave. Step by step, slowly but surely, she saw Death, the grim foe, advancing to meet her. Kate had been close to death a little earlier in the same year, but then she had been unconscious. If Death had really claimed her as his prey, she would have gone away into the other world knowing nothing of that last journey. In ignorance and oblivion she would have passed the boundary, and when she found herself in the Life beyond this life, she would recall no memory of the road by which she had come. To meet death by severe illness would have been in the ordinary course of nature, but the death which now awaited her was different. She was well again, and strong; she had recovered from her accident; all her feelings were alive and keen; she was young, too, and had nothing, in the ordinary sense, to do with death; it was very awful to Kate to see it coming up to her in this manner.

The very vividness of her imagination only added to the horrors which she now endured. She was about to part from life, and life at this moment became exceedingly precious to her. The thought of the real suffering which she had endured a few hours back, sitting in the entrance of this very same cave, now seemed trivial and of no account whatever. She had been a very angry and passionate and rebellious girl. She had thought her pride and independence honorable and righteous, something to hug to her heart, to cling to, whatever happened; now it seemed but a paltry sort of rag, not worth a moments thought nor a moment's pain. For the sake of it, however, she was about really to lose her life. Because she could not accept a great kindness, because she would rather turn her back on all her true friends than hear certain silly words applied to her, she was to die.

"I was mad," thought Kate to herself. "I see the thing in its right light now. My proud heart could not brook the thing. Oh, grandfather! you used to tell me many times that I must conquer the pride which has been my undoing. I was proud of my very openness and humility; I was proud of telling the girls what I really was, but this last indignity I could not, I would not, submit to. I would not rule my spirit in this matter!

"'Better is he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city.'

"I would not rule my spirit, and now God has taken me at my word. I came out here to have a fight with my own proud heart. I know that God was whispering to me all the time not to be angry and impatient, not to throw away the chances he was giving me. He wanted me to cultivate my talents, and he showed me this way, which was hard to take, and bitter; but it was his way, and he wanted me to take it. Oh, I was mad! I refused – I gave the devil the victory, and God was angry, and now he is punishing me. God has taken me at my word. I shall never eat the bread of charity. No one will ever call me a charity girl now. God is taking away the life which I would not use as he wanted me to use it. Oh, I never thought I should fear death! How beautiful grandfather looked when he died! but he was ready, and I am not. I am young. How full of life I feel! how my heart bounds! how keen and strong my brain has got once again! but in a few minutes, perhaps an hour, it will all be over; my brain will have no more thoughts; my heart will be quiet. I shall be dead – drowned!

"I wonder how people feel when they are drowning. I have read accounts of drowning people, and they say that, just before they go, they see all the old life, that it passes before them as a sort of vision. I wonder if grandfather knows that I shall be with him to-day. Perhaps I am not good enough to see him. I am so sorry to die. O God, is it possible that you can forgive me even yet, and let me use my life now in your way, and not my own way? Oh, I don't want to die!"

Kate crept a little farther into the cave. The great storm of nature was raging magnificently outside. Flashes of lightning were filling the cave with a lurid light from moment to moment. The thunder rolled and echoed. But Kate scarcely noticed the storm. Her whole mind, every nerve, every scrap of feeling she possessed, became soon absorbed in watching the water. She had no fear of the lightning striking her, but she dreaded the ever-rising tide inexpressibly. In a short time it reached the entrance to the cave – the next wave rolled in, washing the sandy floor. Kate started back in fear. She moved inch by inch farther and farther into the recesses of the cave; soon she was standing almost in the dark. The waves echoed with a horrible hollow sound as they entered the cave; they seemed to dance and play with one another.

The storm of thunder and lightning was gradually dying away, but now and then a flash still lit up the cave; and cast a reflection, like momentary fire, on the crests of the rolling billows. Kate's agony and terror grew worse and worse. She found herself at last at the extreme end of the narrow cave. She climbed a shelf of rock, and took refuge where the skeletons of the long-dead woman and child were lying in their clay bed; she felt the clay, and found it hard and dry. As a rule, therefore, the water did not reach this point. But Kate was well aware that this was a flood-tide, which, helped by the terrific gale, would reach a far higher spot than that usually gained by the waters. She clasped her hands, clung to the side of the rock, closed her eyes, and endeavored to pray.

"I will try and be resigned," thought the poor girl to herself. "I will try not to be angry and impatient; I will try hard to turn my thoughts from the world. I deserve this punishment. God was very good to me, and I would not have his goodness; now he is taking me away. Oh, I will try to be patient, and not to be a coward! I will try to meet my death calmly. Oh, if only it were all over – the shock – the suffocation – the struggle for breath! Suppose I fling myself into the water and get it over at once. No, I won't do that; perhaps I may be able to hold on; perhaps the tide will not reach such a high point, after all, and if I stand up here, and cling tight to the rock, the water may really turn before I am drowned.