The incident,
however, braced him to his former caution, and he went no more abroad
without first carefully inspecting the surrounding waters from the
ridge.
They would be certain to come that night, he felt sure, either Nance or
Bernel, perhaps both. Yes, he thought most likely they would both come.
They would, without doubt, be wondering how he had fared during the
storm, and would be making provision for him.
Perhaps Nance was cooking for him at that very moment, and thinking of
him as he was of her.
In the certain expectation of their coming, he decided he would not go
to sleep at all that night, but would crawl down to the landing-place to
welcome them.
He wondered if that mad woman Julie had given up watching them, and, if
not, if they would be able to circumvent her again. In any case, he
hoped that if only one of them came it might be Nance. He fairly ached
for the sight and sound of her--and the feel of her little hand, and a
warm frank kiss from the lips that knew no guile.
The sufferings of the storm became as nothing to him in this large hope
and expectation of her coming.
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