She looked about her apprehensively; she did not know whether or no we were on another isolated rock. I reassured her on this subject, and we scrambled as quickly as we could over the rocks on our way shoreward. The elder lady took up most of my time. Here and there in a difficult place, for the wind by now blew so strongly that one found it hard to balance oneself as is necessary when walking on rocks, I offered the younger my hand. At first she firmly declined; but then, manifestly thinking it churlish, she relented and let me help her. That kiss was evidently rankling in her mind.
Both the women breathed more freely when we had reached the shore and stood secure from the sea. And indeed by this time the view, as we looked back, was enough to frighten one. Great waves topped with white were rolling in from as far as we could see; dashing over the rocks, sending up here and there white towers of spray, or rolling in on the flat shore in front of us with an ominous roar. Woe betide any one who might be isolated now on any rock beyond; he would be swept off, and beaten on the rocks. The old lady groaned as she saw it, and then said audibly a prayer of thankfulness. Even the girl grew white for a moment; then, to my secret joy, unconsciously she drew closer to me. I took control of the party.
“Come,” I said, “you mustn’t stand here in your wet clothes. Hurry to the hotel and get dried. You will get your death of cold. We must all run! Or hasten, at all events!” I added, as I took in the dimensions of the elder lady.
“We have left our trap at the hotel” said the younger lady as we began to walk quickly in the direction of Port Erroll.
As we were moving off it suddenly struck me that Gormala might have seen the episode of the rescue. The very thought of such a thing filled me with such dismay that I groaned aloud. Not for all the world would I have had her have a hand in this; it was too sacred—too delightful—too much apart from ordinary things! Whilst I was lost in a reverie of inexpressible sweetness for perhaps two or three seconds altogether, I was recalled to myself by the voice of the girl who came close to me:
“Are you hurt? Please tell me if you are. I am a First Aid.”
“Hurt?” I asked, surprised “not at all. What on earth makes you think so?”
“I heard you groan!”
“Oh that——” I began with a smile. Then I stopped, for again the haunting fear of Gormala’s interference closed over my heart like a wet mist. With the fear, however, came a resolution; I would not have any doubt to torment me. In my glance about the shore, as we came off the rocks on to the beach, I had not seen a sign of anyone. At this part of the shore the sandhills have faded away into a narrow flat covered with bent-grass, beyond which the land slopes up directly to the higher plain. There was not room or place for any one to hide; even one lying amongst the long bents could be seen at a glance from above. Without a word I turned to the left and ran as quickly as I could across the beach and up the steep bank of the sandy plateau. With a certain degree of apprehension, and my heart beating like a trip-hammer—I had certainly taken this matter with much concern—I looked around. Then I breathed freely; there was not a sign of anyone as far as I could see. The wind, now coming fiercely in from the sea, swept the tall bent-grass till it lay over, showing the paler green of its under side; the blue-green, metallic shimmer which marks it, and which painters find it so hard to reproduce, had all vanished under the stress.
I ran back to join the ladies. The elder one had continued walking stolidly along the shore, leaving a track of wet on the half dry sand as she went; but the younger one had lingered and came towards me as I approached.
“I hope there was nothing wrong?” she asked in a most natural way.
“No,” I said it without thinking, for there was something about the girl which made me feel as if we were old friends, and I spoke to her unconsciously in this strain. “It’s all right. She’s not there!”
“Who?” she asked with unconsciousness of any arrière pensée, an unconsciousness similar to my own.
“Gormala!” I answered.
“And who is Gormala?” For quite a minute or two I walked on without speaking, for I wanted to think before I answered. I felt that it would be hard to explain the odd way in which the Seer-woman seemed to have become tangled up in my life; and yet I wanted to tell this girl. I feared that she might laugh at me; that she might think me ridiculous; that she might despise me; or even that she might think me a lunatic! Then again Gormala might come and tell things to her. There was no accounting for what the woman might do. She might come upon us at any moment; she might be here even now! The effect of her following or watching me had begun to tell on my mind; her existence haunted me. I looked around anxiously, and breathed freely. There was no sign of her. My eyes finally fetched up on the face of the girl.... Her beautiful, dark eyes were fixed on me with interest and wonder.
“Well!” she said, after a pause, “I don’t suppose I’m more inquisitive than my neighbours, but I should just like to know, right here, what’s wrong with you. You looked round that time just as if you were haunted! Why did you run away that time and search round as if some one had taken a pot-shot at you and you wanted to locate him? Why did you groan before you went, and come back humming? Who is Gormala, anyhow; and why were you glad that you didn’t see her? Why didn’t you answer me when I asked you who she was? Why did you walk along with your head up and your eyes staring, as though you were seeing visions? And why——”
All at once she stopped, and a swift blush swept over her face and even her neck. “Oh,” she said in a low tone with a note of pathos in her voice, “I beg your pardon! my unruly tongue ran away with me. I have no right to ask so many questions—and from a stranger too!” She stopped as suddenly as she had begun.
“You might have spared me that!” I said “I know I have been rude in delaying to answer your question about Gormala; but the fact is that there are so many odd things in connection with her that I was really considering whether you would think me a fool or a lunatic if I told them to you. And you certainly would not understand why I didn’t want to see her, if I didn’t. And perhaps not even if I did,” I added as an afterthought. The girl’s awkwardness slipped from her like a robe; the blush merged into a smile as she turned to me and said:
“This is most interesting. O! do tell me—if you don’t mind.”
“I shall be delighted” I said, and I only expressed my thought. “Gormala” I began; but just then the stout lady in front of us, who was now a considerable way ahead, turned round and called to us. I could only hear “Miss Anita;” but the girl evidently understood, for she called out:
“All right! We are coming at once!” and she hurried on. It gave me a thrill of pleasure that she said “we” not “I;” it was sweet to have a part in such a comprehension. As we went she turned to me and said:
“You must tell me all about it; I shan’t be happy till I hear the whole story, whatever it is. This is all too lovely and exciting. I hadn’t an idea when we went out sleepily this morning that there would be so much in the day to think of afterwards.” I felt that I had taken my courage in both hands as I said:
“You’ll both dine with me at the hotel, won’t you. You have missed lunch and