The
next moment it was again cold. He started to his feet in wonder,
and sought the light. As he turned the angle, the receding back of
a huge green foam spotted wave, still almost touching the roof of
the cavern, was sweeping out again into the tumult. It had filled
the throat of it, and so compressed the air within by the force
of its entrance, as to drive out for the moment a large portion of
its latent heat. Looking then at his watch, Malcolm judged it must
be about high tide: brooding in the darkness, he had allowed the
moments to lapse unheeded, and it was now impossible to leave the
cavern until the tide had fallen. He returned into its penetral, and
sitting down with the patience of a fisherman, again lost himself
in reverie.
The darkness kept him from perceiving how the day went, and the
rapidly increasing roar of the wind made the diminishing sound
of the tide's retreat less noticeable. He thought afterwards that
perhaps he had fallen asleep; anyhow, when at length he looked out,
the waves were gone from the rock, and the darkness was broken only
by the distant gleam of their white defeat. The wind was blowing
a hurricane, and even for his practised foot, it was not easy to
surmount the high, abrupt spines he must cross to regain the shore.
It was so dark that he could see nothing of the castle, though it
was but a few yards from him; and he resolved therefore, the path
along the top of the cliffs being unsafe, to make his way across
the fields, and return by the high road.
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