"Next day, the storm having abated, and the sun shining out, they were
standing on the beach, near a fisherman, who like them was gazing
seawards, when the child went skimming past along the shore. Mrs. Netherby
asked the fisherman about her, and learned the secret of the sea's
motherhood. She had been washed ashore from the wreck of a vessel; and was
found on the beach, tied to a spar. All besides had perished. From the
fragment they judged it to have been a Dutch vessel. Some one had said in
her hearing--'Poor child! the sea is her mother;' and her imagination had
cherished the idea. A fisherman, who had no family, had taken her to his
house and loved her dearly. But he lost his wife shortly after; and a year
or two ago, the sea had taken him, the only father she knew. All, however,
were kind to her. She was welcome wherever she chose to go and share with
the family. But no one knew today where she would be to-morrow, where she
would have her next meal, or where she would sleep. She was wild,
impulsive, affectionate.
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