IN DENIS DUVAL'S COUNTRY. 53
Westgate ; down I ran along the road towards the place where I guessed at. When I had gone a few hundred yards, I saw in the road something white. It was the Countess's slipper, that she had left there. I knew she had gone that way. I got down to the shore, running, running with all my little might. The moon had risen by this time, shining gloriously over a great silvery sea. A tide of silver was pouring in over the sand. Yonder was that rock where we often had sat. The infant was sleeping on it under the stars unconscious. He, who loves little children, had watched over it. I scarcly can see the words as I write them down. My little baby was waking. She had known nothing of the awful sea coming nearer with each wave ; but she knew me as I came, and smiled, and warbled a little infant welcome. I took her up in my arms, and trotted home with my pretty burden. As I paced up the hill, Monsieur de la Motte and one of the French clergyman met me. By ones and twos, the other searchers after my little wanderer came home from their quest. She was laid in her little crib, and never knew, until years later, the danger from which she had been rescued."
That which Thackeray calls the Westgate