"Not a sail in sight," she murmured, "and the night coming on so
fearfully black. Oh, Edward, shall I ever see you again!" was her
exclamation, uttered in a tone full of wild pathos, while the hand, that
had been upraised to shade the sun's rays, fell listless at her side.
"Oh, if you only come back safe again, I shall quarrel with you and
tease you no more,--and you so patient and so good,"--and her quivering
lip, and the expression of anguish that passed over her features, told
how deep and true her emotion.
"It is no use lingering here," she mentally ejaculated, as a fresh blast
of wind nearly swept her from the summit. "I may as well go down at
once." Turning to descend, she paused to take a parting glance at the
distant ocean, whose mercy she would fain have invoked for the loved
ones it bore on its bosom, when something at a distance caught her eager
eye. As one transfixed, she stood there, fearing almost to breathe, lest
a breath might dissolve the vision.
"Yes, a sail is in sight; but, ah, is it the one I look for? Oh, this
cruel suspense, how much longer must I bear it! Father, father," she
cried, and the breeze bore the clear tones of her voice distinctly to
his ear; "father, do come here, for I see a sail yonder, and I think it
is the 'Darling,'" for so, by the lover captain,--doubtless to remind
him of another =darling=, tarrying at home,--the little trim schooner
was designated.
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