dry passage.

As they advanced together in silence a sudden change of weather made
Miss Wardour draw close to her father. As the sun sank the wind rose,
and the mass of waters began to lift itself in larger ridges, and sink
in deeper furrows. Presently, through the drizzling rain, they saw a
figure coming towards them, whom Sir Arthur recognised as the old
blue-gowned beggar, Edie Ochiltree.

"Turn back! Turn back!" exclaimed the vagrant. "The tide is running on
Halket-head, like the Fall of Fyers! We will maybe get back by Ness
Point yet. The Lord help us--it's our only chance! We can but try."

The waves had now encroached so much upon the beach, that the firm and
smooth footing which they had hitherto had on the sand must be exchanged
for a rougher path close to the foot of the precipice, and in some
places even raised upon its lower ledges. It would have been utterly
impossible for Sir Arthur Wardour or his daughter to have found their
way along these shelves without the guidance and encouragement of the
beggar, who had been there before in high tides, though never, he
acknowledged, "in sae awsome a night as this."

It was indeed a dreadful evening. The howling of the storm mingled with
the shrieks of the sea-fowl. Each minute the raging tide gained ground
perceptibly. The three still struggled forward; but at length they
paused upon the highest ledge of rock to which they could attain, for it
seemed that any farther attempt to advance could only serve to
anticipate their fate.

The fearful pause gave Isabella Wardour time to collect the powers of a