better be left in possession of the sea-crows that were solemnly walking to and fro beside the pools, digging ever and anon with their sharp bills into the soft surface, in quest of worms or shellfish. Not so, however, did my brother-in-law elect. His lip curled scornfully, and he could hardly listen with patient politeness to the Cassandra-like predictions of the old ladies who were the chief speakers. He had, in fact, been too long on the Continent not to be aware how prone to the marvellous, and to exaggeration of the peculiarities of the country, English residents are apt to be. He was of a bold spirit, too, and not easily turned from anything by the mere notion of problematic peril. Thus he persisted; the others demurred; and the result was an animated discussion, in which Harry was in the minority. He was only backed by the schoolboys, who were wild with delight at the idea of such “jolly fun” as a race homewards across the sands, all the more attractive because their elders held them in such horror. Emma, indeed, would willingly have gone by that route, though she was sorely puzzled between Aunt Pearson’s boding remarks and her lover’s confidence that there was no risk, and that the dangers of the Grêve, at low-water, must be purely fanciful.
I don’t say that Hilton was a perfect character. He was, as I have hinted, rather hot of temper and excessively obstinate, though of a generous and kindly nature. His petulance increased with the well-meant but injudicious efforts of our friends to dissuade him from the wild idea of crossing the sands. He would, I do not doubt, have given up the plan, though not perhaps with a very good grace, had Emma asked him at first to stay for her sake. But she did nothing of the sort. On the contrary, she was disposed to side with him, and when the rest vowed that for untold gold they would not tempt Providence by such an act of folly, she was still inclined to hearken to her lover’s voice, had I not interposed.
“No, no, Emma,” said I, turning it off with a laugh. “After Monday next, when you have promised to love and obey our headstrong friend on the chestnut charger, of course you may risk your life as much as you please. Till then I am your lawful guardian, and shall not stir one yard from the Prince President’s highway; so you must submit to go home in safety.”
Hilton declared in dudgeon that he would go alone, write his letters, and have time to smoke a cigar and play a game at billiards at the Cuercle, before we returned. He would not listen to a word of advice, though two or three old Breton fishermen, and some shrill-voiced fisherwomen added their warnings to those of our company.
“There are many dead Christians in the cimetière of Kervaen,” said one white-haired old sailor, speaking in a thin and piping voice, but solemnly and impressively enough; “but there are more who sleep in unblessed graves, without shroud or coffin, under the lises of the Bay. The tide has turned, too, and the wind is westerly.”
“Ah, ah! it is wrong to tempt Heaven’s mercy thus,” cried the women, crowding round Hilton’s horse. “In the name of our Lady of Sorrows, monsieur, take the advice of the poor.”
Hilton merely shrugged his shoulders, made some good-humoured but contemptuous rejoinder, and tightened his horse’s girths. The good horse neighed and pawed the beach impatiently.
“Harry,” said my sister, now alarmed for the first time, and with imploring eyes fixed on her lover’s face, “Harry, to please me”
It was too late. Had Emma spoken before, her influence would have carried the day, but now Hilton was piqued and nettled by so much opposition to his proposal, and his mind was made up. He was, as I have said, a brave man, but he had also that sensitive shrinking from the slightest imputation of fear which is only felt by the young, and which wears off with experience of the world’s ways. To recoil now, when everyone was busy in conjuring up perils and obstacles in store for him, would have been a bitter pill for his proud and hasty nature to swallow. Yet he hesitated for an instant as he saw the tears in Emma’s gentle eyes; but most unluckily one of the Norman coachmen broke in with tipsy gravity, and in the nasal drawl of his native province:
“C’est bien dangereuse, monsieur, savez-vous”
The spell was snapped at once. Hilton, who had finished adjusting his girths, angrily told the man to hold his tongue, gathered up his reins, and spurred off, waving his hand in adieu to Emma, and drily remarking that we gave ourselves a great deal of unnecessary anxiety about the safety of a person so insignificant as himself, but that the laugh would be against us, when we met at Avranches, by tea-time. So saying, he rode off at a brisk canter, splashed into the Couësnon, and, fording the shallow water with perfect ease, gained the opposite bank, and took his way across the sands. Twice he looked back to us, with a half-playful gesture of leave-taking, and then a rising headland concealed him from our view.
“Follow him, George; oh, pray let us follow him!” exclaimed Emma, struggling to keep back her tears, but to this I decidedly objected. To overtake Hilton, well-mounted as he was, was out of the question, even had there been any good object to be attained by sharing his danger, if he were indeed in danger. Of this I felt by no means assured. Popular tradition is generally vague and full of exaggeration, and I did not repose unlimited faith in the appalling statements I had just heard. Heartily I wished that Harry had been wise enough to avoid what might prove a very ugly scrape; but, for all that, I counted on finding him, flushed with victory, puffing his cigar at the door of the Hôtel de Londres.
We started at a good round pace, glad to get away from the croaking of the Breton peasants, whose dismal predictions had anything but a reassuring effect upon my poor sister. Our little pony chaise was much lighter than the cumbrous four-wheeled carriages, and as Emma was eager to get back to Avranches and assure herself of the safety of our rash knight-errant, I drove fast, and we soon outstripped the rest of the party. As for the youngsters on their ponies, they were somewhat sulky at the parental prohibition, sternly reiterated, to accompany Hilton across