Randolph looked grave and resolute. “We must see what can be done,” he said. Monica’s face was very pale, but as resolute as her husband’s. “I will go with you!” she said. [23] [23] He glanced at, her, but he did not say her nay. In the hall servants were gathering in visible excitement. Lord Haddon was there, and Beatrice. The distressing signals from the doomed vessel were urging their imperative message upon every heart. Faces were flushed with excitement. Every eye was turned upon the master of the house. “Haddon,” he said, “there is not a man on the place that can ride like you, and you know every inch of the country by this time. Will you do this?—take the fastest, surest horse in the stable, and gallop to the nearest life-boat station. You know where it is?—Good! Give the alarm there, and get all in readiness. If the ship is past our help, and drifts with [24]the wind, they may be able to save her crew still.” [24] Haddon stayed to ask no more. He was off for the stables almost before the words had left Randolph’s lips. Monica was wrapping herself up in her warm ulster; Beatrice followed her example; the one was flushed, the other pale, but both were bent on the same object—they must go down to the shore to see what was done. They could not rest with the sound of those terrible guns ringing in their ears. The night was pitchy black, the sky was obscured by a thick bank of cloud. The wind blew fierce and strong, what sailors would call “half a gale.” It was a wild, “dirty” night, but not nearly so bad a one as they often knew upon that coast. [25] [25] The lanterns lighted them down the steep cliff-path, every foot of which, however, was well known to Monica. She kept close beside her husband. He gave her his hand over every difficult piece of the road, Beatrice
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