[SEE PAGE 499.]]
CHAPTER XL.
A STRANGE STORY.
The wind is hushed now. The sea beats no longer with rude shocks
against the echoing cliffs. The sea-birds have gone to their nests, and
the moon, bright and beautiful, is flooding ocean and land with its
calm, clear light.
Howard and Martin walk together along the grassy way between their
cottage and the sea.
They look anxiously, from time to time, along the road, for they are
expecting the arrival of the doctor, and they make a start together as
they see a form in the distance. But it is not the doctor; it is Eric.
"Well, Eric, what news? How are your patients to-night?"
"Going on well, thank God!" he answered. "Gideon is sitting up in bed,
and has been talking a bit, but not much, for the doctor says it would
be the worst thing he could do. And Robbie is picking up strength, but
it's slowly--slowly, poor Robbie!"
"We must hope and pray, and use the best means we can. God helps those
who help themselves," said Howard.
"But He helps those most who cannot help themselves, it seems to me,"
said Martin, "when I think of all that has happened during the past few
days."
"It really does seems so, sir," said Eric; "and to think that Mr.
Digby, that you all thought was dead and gone years ago, should have
sailed in that same ship along with my two brothers whom we had given
up as lost, and that all should come back again together, and their
ship drift into the very port they started from! I feel as if I
couldn't believe it; I'm sure I shouldn't if I read it in a book.
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