"We are all grieved--more grieved than words can say: and gladly would we stay if we could be of any use. But what can we do? for we are all convinced--" "No me," cried Hamish, coming forward in the moonlight. "No me!" his bleeding hands left marks on his forehead as he wiped the heavy moisture from it; his eyes shone wildly beneath his shaggy brows. "I was against it," he cried, "from the first! I said what would they be doing here? But convinced, that I never will be, no till I find--Mem, if ye tell them they'll bide. Tell them to bide. As sure as God is in heaven that was all her thought--we will find her yet." The other men had slunk away, and were softly getting into their boats. The three young yachtsmen alone waited, a group of dark figures about her. She looked up at them standing together in the moonlight, her face hollowed out as if by the work of years. "He is my only one," she said, "my only one. And you--you--you are all the sons of one mother." Her voice had a shrill anguish in it, insupportable to hear: and when she paused there came still more shrilly into the air, with a renewed passion, "Oona! Oona!" the cry that had not ceased for hours. The young man who was called Patrick flung his clenched hand into the air; he gave a cry of pity and pain unendurable. "Go and lie down for an hour or two," he said to the others, "and come back with the dawn. Don't say a word. I'll stay; it's more than a man can bear." When the others were gone, this young fellow implored the poor lady to go in, to lie down a little, to try and take some rest. What good could she do? he faltered; and she might want all her strength for to-morrow--using all those familiar pleas with which the miserable are mocked. Something like a smile came over her wan face. "You are very kind," she said, "oh very kind!" but no more. But when he returned and pressed the same arguments upon her she turned away almost with impatience. "I will watch with my son to-night," she said, putting him away with her hand. And thus the night passed.