A Child of the Glens | Page 8

silent bay, but
brought no other response.
"Now, lass, look sharp and run up the brae, and call some of the men,
or the tide will be in upon us. And we 'll lose the wrack, too, for the
matter of that. Away you go in a moment," he added, sternly, as the
child seemed reluctant to abandon what she held to be her peculiar

charge.
Elsie obeyed, and was fortunate enough, just as she was turning into the
by-road that led to the shore, to run against George Hendrick.
"What has scared you so, Elsie?" he said, kindly, as he stopped the
headlong child; "are you in mischief, and running away from
anybody?"
"O Mr. Hendrick, we 've found a drowned lady on the shore, and I 'm
running to tell the people; father's with her."
"Where?" cried the reader, quickly.
"In the sandy cove, where we get the sea-wrack."
"Well, Elsie, you run on to McAuley's, and ask him to bring down
some spirits in case she might be alive still; and lose no time--there's a
good girl."
So saying, Hendrick sprang over the low fence and hurried down the
shore. He soon saw through the dusk a tall figure bending over some
object on the sand. It rose as he approached, and he at once recognised
McAravey. The old man was singularly excited and flurried--far more
so than when he had joined Elsie.
"Thank God some one has come!" he cried; "and you 're the very man I
'd like to see."
"Is she quite dead?" said Hendrick, kneeling beside the body.
"Aye, dead enough and stiff," answered the old man; "but see, the tide
is almost on us. Let's fetch her up a bit. I did not like to touch her till
some one came."
Between them they lifted the body into a place of safety, and then
McAravey, whose agitation had not diminished, said, with affected
indifference--

"While we are waiting I 'll just drag up a wee lock of that weed; there is
no use letting the tide fetch it away again." So saying, he proceeded to
lift in his arms the heaps that were nearest the sea, and to place them
beyond the high-water line.
Meanwhile Hendrick had been examining the features of the dead
woman, and was startled to recognise one with whom he had conversed
only the day before. This was the only important point brought out at
the inquest, which took place in a couple of days. Hendrick deposed to
having met a woman dressed like the deceased, as far as he could judge,
walking on the cliffs past Fair Head. She had asked him about a short
cut to Tor Bay by a rocky path which led abruptly down to the shore,
and which, she said, she half-remembered. He had warned her that the
way was a dangerous one, especially in bad weather. She had laughed,
and said she had once been down the Grey Man's Path, and had known
the coast well in childhood. She had not told him her business in Tor
Bay, but had said they might, perhaps, meet there. Had anything else
passed? Yes, he had given her a little tract, as she seemed anxious and
troubled. Anything else? No, except that when parting she had asked
him the correct time in order to set her watch. Did Hendrick see the
watch? No, but he thought she wore a chain, and was certain she had
spoken of setting her watch, which she said had gone down. This
matter excited some interest, because, though the tract given by
Hendrick was found in the pocket of the dress, no watch or chain could
be discovered. Had the unfortunate woman been robbed, and then
thrown into the sea? Or had the watch and chain been stolen by Mike or
the children, who first found the body? Or might they not easily have
been lost from the body that had been so long tossed by the waves?
Elsie's examination did not tend to clear her of suspicion. Her answers
to the preliminary questions as to "the nature of an oath" were
somewhat flippant and unsatisfactory. As to the chain, she first spoke
positively of having seen it, then hesitatingly, ending by saying she was
frightened and knew nothing about it.
McAravey swore positively that he had seen no gold chain, and
therefore had not taken one. Though an ugly suspicion was thus created,
no further steps could be taken, Hendrick declining to vouch for more

than an "impression" that the deceased wore a chain. Evidence of
identity there was none. The linen was marked "E. D," and the
mourning ring, which guarded a plain gold one, had merely the words,
"In memory, H. D., 186--." The only further evidence was that of