t seemed a long time before my grandfather came back, and then he only said in a low voice, "You can bring him now, my lads; she knows about it now."

And so the mournful little procession moved on, through the field and garden and court, to the Millars' house, my grandfather and I following.

I shall never forget that night, nor the strange, solemn feeling I had then.

Mrs. Millar was very ill; the shock had been too much for her. The men went back in the boat to bring a doctor to the island to see her, and the doctor sent them back again to bring a nurse. He said he was afraid she would have an attack of brain fever, and he thought her very ill indeed.

My grandfather and I sat in the Millars' house all night, for the nurse did not arrive until early in the morning. The six children were fast asleep in their little beds. I went to look at them once, to see if my little Timpey was all right; she was lying in little Polly's bed, their tiny hands fast clasped together as they slept. The tears came fast into my eyes, as I thought that they both had lost a father, and yet neither of them knew anything of their loss!

When the nurse arrived, my grandfather and I went home. But we could not sleep; we lighted the kitchen fire, and sat over it in silence for a long time.

Then my grandfather said: "Alick, my lad, it has given me such a turn as I haven't had for many a day. It might have been me, Alick; it might just as well have been me!"

I put my hand in his, and grasped it very tightly, as he said this. "Yes," he said again, "it might have been me; and if it had, I wonder where I should have been now?"

I didn't speak, and he went on.

"I wonder where Jem is now, poor fellow; I've been thinking of that all night, ever since I saw him lying there in the bottom of that boat."

So I told him of what Jem Millar had said to me the last time I had seen him.

"'On the Rock!'" said my grandfather. "Did he say he was 'on the Rock'? Dear me! I wish I could say as much, Alick, my lad."

"Can't you and I come as he came, Grandfather?" I said. "Can't we come and build on the Rock, too?"

"Well," said my grandfather, "I wish we could, my lad. I begin to see what he meant, and what the old gentleman meant too. He said, 'You're on the sand, my friend; you're on the sand, and it won't stand the storm; no, it won't stand the storm!' I've just had those words in my ears all the time we were sitting over there by Mrs. Millar. But, dear me, I don't know how to get on the Rock; I don't indeed."

The whole of the next week poor Mrs. Millar lay between life and death. At first the doctor gave no hope whatever of her recovery; but after a time she grew a little better, and he began to speak more encouragingly. I spent my time with the poor children, and hardly left them a moment, doing all I could to keep them quietly happy that they might not disturb their mother.

One sorrowful day my grandfather and I were absent for several hours from the lighthouse, for we went ashore to follow poor Jem Millar to the grave. His poor wife was unconscious, and knew nothing of what was going on.

When after some weeks the fever left her, she was still very weak and unfit for work. But there was much to be done, and she had no time to sit still, for a new man had been appointed to take her husband's place; and he was to come into the house at the beginning of the month.

We felt very dull and sad the day that the Millars went away. We went down to the pier with them and saw them on board the steamer -- Mrs. Millar, the six little children, and the servant-girl, all dressed in mourning, and all of them crying. They were going to Mrs. Millar's home, far away in the north of Scotland, where her old father and mother were still living.

The island seemed very lonely and desolate when they were gone. If it had not been for our little sunbeam, as my grandfather called her, I do not know what we should have done. Every day we loved her more, and what we dreaded most was, that a letter would arrive some Monday morning to tell us that she must go away from us.

"Dear me, Alick," my grandfather would often say, "how little you and me thought that stormy night what a little treasure we had got wrapped up in that funny little bundle!"

The child was growing fast; the fresh sea did her great good, and every day she became more intelligent and prettier.

We were very curious to know who was appointed in Jem Millar's place; but we were not able to find out even what his name was. Capt. Sayers said that he did not know anything about it; and the gentlemen who came over once or twice to see about the house being repaired and put in order for the new comer were very silent on the subject, and seemed to think us very inquisitive if we asked any questions. Of course, our comfort depended very much upon who our neighbor was, for he and my grandfather would be constantly together, and we should have no one else to speak to.

My grandfather was very anxious that we should give the man a welcome to the island and make him comfortable on his first arrival. So we set to work, as soon as the Millars were gone, to dig up the untidy garden belonging to the next house, and make it as neat and pretty as we could for the newcomers.

"I wonder how many of them there will be," I said, as we were at work in their garden.

"Maybe only just the man," said my grandfather. "When I came here first, I was a young unmarried man, Alick. But we shall soon know all about him; he'll be here next Monday morning, they say."

"It's a wonder he hasn't been over before," I said, "to see the house and the island. I wonder what he'll think of it?"

"He'll be strange at first, poor fellow," said my grandfather; "but we'll give him a bit of a welcome. Have a nice bit of breakfast ready for him, Alick, my lad, and for his wife and bairns too, if he has any -- hot coffee and cakes, and a bit of meat, and anything else you like; they'll be glad of it after crossing over here."

So we made our little preparations, and waited very anxiously indeed for Monday's steamer.

Chapter 10 - Our New Neighbor

onday morning came, and found us standing on the pier as usual awaiting the arrival of the steamer.

  We were very anxious indeed to see our new neighbors. A nice little breakfast for four or five people was set out in our little kitchen, and I had gathered a large bunch of dahlias from our garden to make the table look cheerful and bright. All was ready, and in due time the steamer came puffing up toward the pier; we saw a man standing on the deck, talking to Capt. Sayers, who we felt sure must be the new lighthouse man.

  "I don't see a wife," said my grandfather.

  "Nor any children," said I, as I held little Timpey up, that she might see the steamer.

  "Puff, puff, puff," she said, as it came up, and then turned round and laughed merrily.

  The steamer came up to the landing place, and my grandfather and I went down the steps to meet Capt. Sayers and the stranger.

  "Here's your new neighbor, Sandy," said the captain. "Will you show him the way to his house, while I see to your goods?"

  "Welcome to the island," said my grandfather, grasping his hand.

  He was a tall, strongly built man, very sunburned and weather-beaten.

  "Thank you," said the man, looking at me all the time. "It is pleasant to have a welcome."

  "That's my grandson Alick," said my grandfather, putting his hand on my shoulder.

  "Your grandson," repeated the man, looking earnestly at me; "your grandson -- indeed!"

  "And now come along," said my grandfather, "and get a bit of something to eat; we've got a cup of coffee all ready for you at home, and you'll be right welcome, I assure you."

  "That's very kind of you," said the stranger.

  We were walking up now toward the house, and the man did not seem much inclined to talk. I fancied once that I saw a tear in his eye, but I thought I must have been mistaken. What could he have to cry about? I little knew all that was passing through his mind.

  "By the bye," said my grandfather, turning round suddenly upon him, "what's your name? We've never heard it yet!"

  The man did not answer, and my grandfather looked at him in astonishment. "Have you got no name?" he said. "Or have you objections to folks knowing what your name is?"

  "Father!" said the man, taking hold of my grandfather's hand. "Don't you know your own lad?"

  "Why, it's my David! Alick, look Alick, that's your father; it is indeed!"

  And then my grandfather fairly broke down and sobbed like a child, while my father grasped him tightly with one hand, and put the other on my shoulder.

  "I wouldn't let them tell you," he said; "I made them promise not to tell you till I could do it myself. I heard of Jem Millar's death as soon as I arrived in England, and I wrote off and applied for the place at once. I told them I was your son, Father, and they gave me it at once, as soon as they heard where I had been all these years."

  "And where have you been, David, never to send us a line all the time?"

  "Well, it's a long story," said my father; "let's come in, and I'll tell you all about it."

  So we went in together, and my father still looked at me. "He's very like her, Father," he said, in a husky voice.

  I knew he meant my mother!

  "Then you heard about poor Alice?" said my grandfather.

  "Yes," he said; "it was a very curious thing. A man from these parts happened to be on board the vessel I came home in, and he told me all about it. I felt as if I had no heart left in me, when I heard she was gone. I had just been thinking all the time how glad she would be to see me.

  Then my grandfather told him all he could about my poor mother. How she had longed to hear from him; and how, as week after week and month after month went by, and no news came, she had gradually become weaker and weaker. All this and much more he told him; and whenever he stopped, my father always wanted to hear more, so that it was not until we were sitting over the watch-room fire in the evening that my father began to tell us his story.

  He had been shipwrecked on the coast of China. The ship had gone to pieces not far from shore, and he and three other men had escaped safely to land. As soon as they stepped on shore, a crowd of Chinese gathered round them with anything but friendly faces. They were taken prisoners and carried before some man who seemed to be the governor of that part of the country. He asked them a great many questions, but they did not understand a word of what he said, and, of course, could not answer him.

  For some days my father and the other men were very uncertain what their fate would be; for the Chinese at that time were exceedingly jealous of any foreigner landing on their shore. However, one day they were brought out of the wooden house in which they had been imprisoned and taken a long journey of some two hundred miles into the interior of the country. And here it was that my poor father had been all those years when we thought him dead. He was not unkindly treated, and he taught the half-civilized people there many things which they did not know and which they were very glad to learn. But both by day and night he was carefully watched, lest he should make his escape, and he never found a single opportunity of getting away from them. Of course, there were no mail and no railways in that remote place, and he was quite shut out from the world. Of what was going on at home he knew as little as if he had been living on the moon.

  Slowly and drearily eleven long years passed away, and then one morning they were suddenly told that they were to be sent down to the coast and put on board a ship bound for England. They told my father that there had been a war, and that one of the conditions of peace was that they should give up all the foreigners in their country whom they were holding as prisoners.

  "Well, David, my lad," said my grandfather, when he had finished his strange story, "it's almost like getting you back from the dead to have you in the old home again!"

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