“It’s nothing, papa, Wynnie is in one of her gloomy moods, and didn’t want you to see her crying. She gave me a little pull, that was all. It didn’t hurt me much, only I’m such a goose! I’m in terror before the pain comes. Look at me,” she added, seeing, doubtless, some perturbation on my countenance, “I’m all right now.” And she smiled in my face perfectly. I turned to Wynnie, put my arm about her, kissed her cheek, and left the room. I looked round at the door, and saw that Connie was following me with her eyes, but Wynnie’s were hidden in her handkerchief. I went back to the drawing-room, and in a few minutes Walter came to announce that dinner was about to be served. The same moment Wynnie came to say that Connie was ready. She did not lift her eyes, or approach to give Percivale any greeting, but went again as soon as she had given her message. I saw that he looked first concerned and then thoughtful. “Come, Mr. Percivale,” I said; and he followed me up to Connie’s room. Wynnie was not there; but Connie lay, looking lovely, all ready for going. We lifted her, and carried her by the window out on the down, for the easiest way, though the longest, was by the path to the breakwater, along its broad back and down from the end of it upon the sands. Before we reached the breakwater, I found that Wynnie was following behind us. We stopped in the middle of it, and set Connie down, as if I wanted to take breath. But I had thought of something to say to her, which I wanted Wynnie to hear without its being addressed to her. “Do you see, Connie,” I said, “how far off the water is?” “Yes, papa; it is a long way off. I wish I could get up and run down to it.” “You can hardly believe that all between, all those rocks, and all that sand, will be covered before sunset.” “I know it will be. But it doesn’t _look_ likely, does it, papa!” “Not the least likely, my dear. Do you remember that stormy night when I came through your room to go out for a walk in the dark?” “Remember it, papa? I cannot forget it. Every time I hear the wind blowing when I wake in the night I fancy you are out in it, and have to wake myself up’ quite to get rid of the thought.” “Well, Connie, look down into the great hollow there, with rocks and sand at the bottom of it, stretching far away.” “Yes, papa.” “Now look over the side of your litter. You see those holes all about between the stones?” “Yes, papa.” “Well, one of those little holes saved my life that night, when the great gulf there was full of huge mounds of roaring water, which rushed across this breakwater with force enough to sweep a whole cavalry regiment off its back.” “Papa!” exclaimed Connie, turning pale. Then first I told her all the story. And Wynnie listened behind. “Then I _was_ right in being frightened, papa!” cried Connie, bursting into tears; for since her accident she could not well command her feelings. “You were right in trusting in God, Connie.”