Was her life linked with Tunis Latham's, he
must suffer also from that misfortune.
And so Sheila Macklin waited from hour to hour, from day to day,
dully and in a brooding spirit, for release from a situation which
must in time embitter her whole nature.
* * * * *
From the cabin at the foot of the seaward bluff of Wreckers' Head,
the coming of the black gale out of the northeast was watched
anxiously by Sheila, from the very break of this day. Tunis might be
on the sea. She doubted if the threat of bad weather would hold the
_Seamew_ in port.
There was no rain--just a wind which tore across the waste of waters
within view of her station, scattering their crests in foam and
spoondrift, and rolling them in huger and still huger breakers on
the strand. It was a magnificent sight, but a terrifying one as
well. The girl watched almost continually for a white patch against
the black of the storm which might mark a sailing craft in peril.
Steam vessels went past, several of them. They, surely, were in
little danger, were their hulls ordinarily sound and their engines
perfect. All the fishing craft had made for cover the night before.
The New York-Boston steamers would keep to the inside passage in
this gale.
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