It seemed a long time before my grandfather came back, and then he only said in a low voice, “You can bring him now, my lads; she knows about it now.”
And so the mournful little procession moved on, through the field and garden and court, to the Millars’ house, my grandfather and I following.
I shall never forget that night, nor the strange, solemn feeling I had then.
Mrs. Millar was very ill; the shock had been too much for her. The men went back in the boat to bring a doctor to the island to see her, and the doctor sent them back again to bring a nurse. He said he was afraid she would have an attack of brain fever, and he thought her very ill indeed.
My grandfather and I sat in the Millars’ house all night, for the nurse did not arrive until early in the morning. The six children were fast asleep in their little beds. I went to look at them once, to see if my little Timpey was all right; she was lying in little Polly’s bed, their tiny hands fast clasped together as they slept. The tears came fast into my eyes, as I thought that they both had lost a father, and yet neither of them knew anything of their loss!
When the nurse arrived, my grandfather and I went home. But we could not sleep; we lighted the kitchen fire, and sat over it in silence for a long time.
Then my grandfather said: “Alick, my lad, it has given me such a turn as I haven’t had for many a day. It might have been me, Alick; it might just as well have been me!”
I put my hand in his, and grasped it very tightly, as he said this. “Yes,” he said again, “it might have been me; and if it had, I wonder where I should have been now?”
I didn’t speak, and he went on.
“I wonder where Jem is now, poor fellow; I’ve been thinking of that all night, ever since I saw him lying there in the bottom of that boat.”
So I told him of what Jem Millar had said to me the last time I had seen him.
“On the Rock!” said my grandfather. “Did he say he was on the Rock?” “Dear me! I wish I could say as much, Alick, my lad.”
“Can’t you and I come as he came, Grandfather?” I said. “Can’t we come and build on the Rock, too?”
“Well,” said my grandfather, “I wish we could, my lad. I begin to see what he meant, and what the old gentleman meant too. He said, ‘You’re on the sand, my friend; you’re on the sand, and it won’t stand the storm; no, it won’t stand the storm!’ I’ve just had those words in my ears all the time we were sitting over there by Mrs. Millar. But, dear me, I don’t know how to get on the Rock; I don’t indeed.”
The whole of the next week poor Mrs. Millar lay between life and death. At first the doctor gave no hope whatever of her recovery; but after a time she grew a little better, and he began to speak more encouragingly. I spent my time with the poor children, and hardly left them a moment, doing all I could to keep them quietly happy that they might not disturb their mother.
One sorrowful day my grandfather and I were absent for several hours from the lighthouse, for we went ashore to follow poor Jem Millar to the grave. His poor wife was unconscious, and knew nothing of what was going on.
When after some weeks the fever left her, she was still very weak and unfit for work. But there was much to be done, and she had no time to sit still, for a new man had been appointed to take her husband’s place; and he was to come into the house at the beginning of the month.
We felt very dull and sad the day that the Millars went away. We went down to the pier with them and saw them on board the steamer—Mrs. Millar, the six little children, and the servant-girl, all dressed in mourning, and all of them crying. They were going to Mrs. Millar’s home, far away in the north of Scotland, where her old father and mother were still living.
The island seemed very lonely and desolate when they were gone. If it had not been for our little sunbeam, as my grandfather called her, I do not know what we should have done. Every day we loved her more and what we dreaded most was, that a letter would arrive some Monday morning to tell us that she must go away from us.
“Dear me, Alick,” my grandfather would often say, “how little you and me thought that stormy night what a little treasure we had got wrapped up in that funny little bundle!”
The child was growing fast; the fresh sea did her great good, and every day she became more intelligent and prettier.
We were very curious to know who was appointed in Jem Millar’s place; but we were not able to find out even what his name was. Capt. Sayers said that he did not know anything about it; and the gentlemen who came over once or twice to see about the house being repaired and put in order for the newcomer were very silent on the subject, and seemed to think us very inquisitive if we asked any questions. Of course, our comfort depended very much upon who our neighbor was, for he and my grandfather would be constantly together, and we should have no one else to speak to.
My grandfather was very anxious that we should give the man a welcome to the island and make him comfortable on his first arrival. So we set to work, as soon as the Millars were gone, to dig up the untidy garden belonging to the next house, and make it as neat and pretty as we could for the newcomers.
“I wonder how many of them there will be,” I said, as we were at work in their garden.
“Maybe only just the man,” said my grandfather. “When I came here first, I was a young unmarried man, Alick. But we shall soon know all about him; he’ll be here next Monday morning, they say.”
“It’s a wonder he hasn’t been over before,” I said, “to see the house and the island. I wonder what he’ll think of it?”
“He’ll be strange at first, poor fellow,” said my grandfather; “but we’ll give him a bit of a welcome. Have a nice bit of breakfast ready for him, Alick, my lad, and for his wife and bairns too, if he has any—hot coffee and cakes, and a bit of meat, and anything else you like; they’ll be glad of it after crossing over here.”
So we made our little preparations, and waited very anxiously indeed for Monday’s steamer.