CHAPTER I.

That night there was a great storm on the sea. The Child could not sleep for the tumult. There were thunders and lightnings, and all the winds seemed drawn up in battle, so that he could not distinguish the thunder of the clouds from the roar of the winds or the sullen plunges of the waves as they dashed into the hollows of the rocks, undermining the cliffs. Yet all this was not half so terrible to the Child as the sound of human voices like his own, which came to him wailing through the storm. He rose and stood at the entrance of his cave with his arms clinging to the trunk of an old tree, and looked out over the sea. Not a star was to be seen; and if he tried to speak he could scarcely hear his own voice. Yet through all the roar of the sea and the thunder and the wild raging of the winds, ever and anon came those plaintive human cries straight to the Child's heart. Now and then also he caught the gleam of a light twinkling far out on the waters, but it was extinguished in an instant, and the darkness looked darker than before. At length the wailing voices died away, and the gray morning broke over the foaming waves, and the storm began to lull.

When the day came up, all the sky was calm and bright as if nothing had happened; but the flowers lay exhausted on the mossy bank; the path into the wood was strewn with many branches torn from the trees; all the creatures seemed frightened and cowed by the storm; and the Child sat at his breakfast in silence and alone. He was half afraid to venture to the beach: the sea had not forgotten its last night's battles, and as far out as the Child's eyes could reach, angry waves were tossing their plumed crests, whilst on the shore they curved their proud necks, and foamed as if they would have swallowed the earth, dashing their spray over the tallest cliffs. And to the Child there was something terrible in the calm sunshine, which smiled down so peacefully on all this tumult.

Yet there was a kind of wild joy to him in watching the mighty waves. He stood as close to them as he could, and enjoyed the spray they flung in his face. He felt they were not at play this morning, but he wondered and rejoiced to see his old playfellows in this their hour of strength and daring; his spirit seemed to grow as he looked at them, and he began to feel a new sense of power and a longing to exercise it. So he clambered on among the rocks, breasting the wind, and fronting the waves, till he came to a quiet sandy bay at some little distance from his home. His sea friends, for the most part, kept themselves at home, the sand-borers in their sand-chambers, the fish in their shells, the crabs under the thick sea-weeds,--not yet feeling any confidence in the weather; so that he was more alone than usual.

And as he stood on the rocks which enclosed the bay, on the other side he caught sight of something white gleaming among the rocks. As fast as his little feet could carry him he hastened across the bay to discover what this could be, skirting the waves which curved towards the shore, and in his haste often plunging into them.

But when he reached the point to which he was hastening, surprise and awe nearly took away his breath, and he stood with parted lips and a sudden paleness in his cheeks. Lashed to a plank lay a little creature like himself,--a little maiden with her eyes closed as if she were asleep, and her lips and face as white as her dress.

The Child watched her in silence a minute to see if she would speak. He felt sure the sweet Singers had sent her to him from the heavens, and he feared to disturb her till she awoke. But at length he ventured to whisper, and then to speak louder and louder, asking her to wake. Still the white lips did not close, nor the pale eyelids open. Then a cold awe crept over the Child, and at last he burst into tears. Was it to be another disappointment, like the silent roll of dead leaves? and should he never find any who would understand him or speak to him? In his tears he forgot all his awe, and stooping down he took one little cold hand in both his warm ones, and said gently, "Speak to me--only one word. Indeed I would understand you, and I would love you so dearly."

Then, as still no answer came, he threw both his arms around the little maiden's neck, and pressed his warm breast to hers, and laid his cheek to hers, and prayed her only to wake, even if she would not speak; until, as he folded her thus, so tight and warm, in his little soft arms, he felt something faintly beating against his heart, and a quiver passed through the pale lips, and the Child sobbed aloud, "You hear me! you are waking! you will speak to me!"

And his tears fell faster than ever for joy.

Then the pale-veined eyelids slowly opened, and two eyes looked into his, as blue as the violets. But they were not flowers; they were sweet human eyes. They looked at him with a strange, bewildered, questioning look, and at length a faint voice murmured, "Is it a dream?--are we in heaven?"

It was the first human voice the Child remembered to have heard, but it did not surprise him. It seemed familiar, as if he had heard it long ago, he knew not where; and he said, "No, we are not in heaven, and it is not a dream; but the sweet Singers in heaven have sent you to me."

Then the Child unfastened the cords which bound the little maiden to the plank, and she sat upright and looked around her. The sun poured down his warmest rays, and soon dried her dress. And when she was able, he led her gently over the rocks to his cave, and laid her on his own warm little bed, and gave her honey and fruits, and sat by her and watched her till she fell asleep. In her sleep she still clung to his hand, and if he moved she would stir uneasily and murmur in her sleep; so the Child made up his mind to sit beside her all night, and not once close his eyes. It was such a joy to feel that she could not do without him.

But he was more tired than he knew, with the storm of last night and the great delight of the day; and before he thought of it, sleep had crept into his eyes and shut them fast; and the little weary head sank down beside the maiden, and he dreamt of the sweet Singers carrying her in their arms through the winds and waves to him.