Part 40 (1/2)

He had suddenly found himself face to face with Harry, who walked by, arm in arm with Pradelle, frowning and without a word, when just as they pa.s.sed a corner the wind came with a tremendous burst, and but for Leslie's hand Harry Vine must have gone over into the harbour.

It was but the business of a moment, and Harry seemed to shake off the hand which held him with a tremendous grip and pa.s.sed on.

”Might have said thank you,” said Leslie smiling. ”I seem to be doing quite a business in saving people this morning, only they are of the wrong s.e.x--there is no heroism. Hallo, Mr Luke Vine. Come down to look at the storm?”

”Couldn't I have seen it better up at home?” shouted the old man. ”Ugh!

what a wind. Thought I was going to be blown off the cliff. I see your chimney still stands, worse luck. Going home?”

”No, no. One feels so much unsettled at such a time.”

”Don't go home then; stop with me.”

Leslie looked at the quaint old man in rather an amused way, and then stopped with him to watch the tumbling billows off the point where his companion so often fished.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

THE NEWS.

The day wore on with the storm now lulling slightly, now increasing in violence, till it seemed as if the great rolling banks of green water must end by conquering in their attack, and sweeping away first the rough pier, and then the little twin towns on either side of the estuary. Nothing was visible seawards, but in a maritime place the attention of all is centred upon the expected, and in the full belief that sooner or later there would be a wreck, all masculine Hakemouth gathered in sheltered places to be on the watch.

Van Heldre and Leslie came into contact again that afternoon, and after a long look seaward, the merchant took the young man's arm.

”Come on to my place,” he said quietly. ”You'll come too, Luke Vine?”

”I? No, no,” said the old fellow, shaking his head. ”I want to stop and watch the sea go down.”

His refusal was loud and demonstrative, but somehow there was a suggestion in it of a request to be asked again.

”Nonsense!” said Van Heldre. ”You may as well come and take shelter for a while. You will not refuse, Leslie?”

”Thanks all the same, but I hope you will excuse me too,” replied Leslie with his lips, but with an intense desire to go, for there was a possibility of Louise being at the house with Madelaine.

”I shall feel vexed if you refuse,” said Van Heldre quietly. ”Come along, Luke, and dine with us. I'm depressed and worried to-day; be a bit neighbourly if you can.”

”Oh, I'll come,” said the old man; ”but it serves you right. Why can't you be content as I am, instead of venturing hundreds and hundreds of pounds in s.h.i.+ps on the sea? Here, come along, Leslie, and let's eat and drink all we can to help him, the extravagant spendthrift.”

Van Heldre smiled, and they went along to the house together.

”The boy in yonder at work?” said Uncle Luke, giving a wag of his head toward the office.

”Yes,” said Van Heldre, and ushered his visitors in, the closed door seeming directly after to shut out the din and confusion of the wind-swept street.

”There, throw your mackintoshes on that chair,” said Van Heldre; and hardly had Leslie got rid of his than Mrs Van Heldre was in the hall, her short plump arms were round Leslie's neck, and she kissed him heartily.

”G.o.d bless you!” she whispered with a sob; and before Leslie had well recovered from his surprise and confusion, Madelaine was holding one of his hands in both of hers, and looking tearfully in his face in a way which spoke volumes.

”Ah, it's nice to be young and good-looking, and well off,” said Uncle Luke. ”n.o.body gives me such a welcome.”

”How can you say that,” said Madelaine, with a laugh. ”Come, Uncle Luke, and we're very glad to see you.”