It would be vain to describe the excitement into which Nora, like many another woman, rose at the news. The other women were the sailors’ wives, who had a right to be moved. She had no such right. She had never spoken even to her mother of the _Pretty Peggy_. She had been too proud at first to betray the smallest interest in the movements of her lost love, and she did not even know whether Mrs. Sinclair was aware that Willy was coming with the returning seamen out of the icy seas. She had to invent a reason for her anxiety as the ship drew near the port. “Willy Morrison is in her, mamma,” said Nora. “I’d like to go down and see them come in. His mother will be so happy.” Willy Morrison’s mother had been Nora’s nurse, and that was her excuse.
“Well, well,” said Mrs. Sinclair, with an impatience unusual to her. “I wanted you at home this afternoon; but Nancy will be proud to see you have a warm heart to your foster-brother. Be home as soon as you can. I would not be surprised if some friend was to look in to tea.”
Nora gave her mother a startled look, of which Mrs. Sinclair took no notice. She looked as if she had her secret too; and most probably she knew as well as her daughter did who was coming up the tranquil Firth in the returning ship. Did her mother expect him too? Could it be possible, after all the tragic hours that were past, that things should fall so calmly into the old routine, and Willy Erskine, after his voyage, look in to tea? She did not know if she walked on air or solid ground when she made her way down again to the pier. If that were to be the end of it, of what use had been all the agonies of those silent months? Life seemed to swim before her like a dream and confused phantasmagoria, as she thought, but yet a subtle sense of happiness was gathering at her heart. He was coming so soon; he was so near; and all those ghosts would roll up their gloomy wings and disappear out of sight, when Willy Erskine once more looked in at the Gushat-house. She went quickly down along the half-deserted road to the pier where the women were all crowding. The _Pretty Peggy_ could not reach the harbour yet for more than an hour; but still, to be so much nearer her, to be ready to meet the men and hear that all was well, five minutes earlier, was compensation enough for the wives. They made pleasant little speeches to Nora as she came down among them. “Ah, Miss Nora, the day will come when you’ll be lookin’ out for a man o’ your ain,” said one. “And I hope with a’my heart it’ll be a good man and a pleasant day,” added another. “But Miss Nora’s man will never be a seafarin’ man like ours, to make her heart sair,” said a third. “Unless it was a grand captain of a frigate in a’ his gold lace,” was the ambitious aspiration of Nancy Morrison. “Sure I am, I didna bring up a winsome young lady for less than that.” She was a favourite, and this was the pleasant chatter that passed, as she went among them, from lip to lip.