Chapter 8 - Page 2

cold and damp and dark
and uncomfortable. The rain came beating down upon them, as they sat
there side by side on that exposed rock. The spray from the breakers
blew in with the night wind; the light breeze struck chill on their
wet clothes and faces. After awhile Eustace began a slow tour of
inspection over the crag, seeking some cave or rock shelter, some
projecting ledge of stone on the leeward side that might screen their
backs at least from the driving showers. Cleer couldn't be left alone;
she clung to his hand as he felt his way about the islet, with
uncertain steps, through the gloom and fog. Once he steadied himself
on a jutting piece of the rock as he supposed, when to his immense
surprise--wh'r'r'r--it rose from under his hand, with a shrill cry of
alarm, and fluttered wildly seaward. It was some sleeping gull, no
doubt, disturbed unexpectedly in its accustomed resting-place. Eustace
staggered and almost fell. Cleer supported him with her arm. He
accepted her aid gratefully. They stumbled on in the dark once more,
lighting now and again for a minute or two one of his six precious
matches--he had no more in his case--and exploring as well as they
might the whole broken surface of that fissured pinnacle. "I'm so glad
you smoke, Mr. Le Neve," Cleer said, simply, as he lit one. "For if
you didn't, you know, we'd have been left here all night in utter
darkness."

At last, in a nook formed by the weathered joints, Eustace found a
rugged niche, somewhat dryer than the rest, and laid Cleer gently down
in it, on a natural spring seat of tufted rock-plants. Then he settled
down beside her, with what cheerfulness he could muster up, and taking
off his wet coat, spread it on top across the cleft, like a tent roof,
to shelter them. It was no time, indeed, to stand upon ceremony. Cleer
recognized as much, and nestled close to his side, like a sensible
girl as she was, so as to keep warm by mere company; while Eustace,
still holding her hand, just to assure her of his presence, placed
himself in such an attitude, leaning before her and above her, as to
protect her as far as possible from the drizzling rainfall through the
gap in front of them. There they sat till morning, talking gradually
of many things, and growing more and more confidential, in spite of
cold and wet, as they learnt more and more, with each passing hour, of
each other's standpoint. There are some situations where you get to
know people better in a few half-hours together than you could get to
know them in months upon months of mere drawing-room acquaintance. And
this was one of them. Before morning dawned, Eustace Le Neve and Cleer
Trevennack felt just as if they had known one another quite well for
years. They were