Free A New Dawn Over Devon by Michael Phillips

knowing where. Gradually she left the town behind. When she slowly became aware of herself, an hour or two had passed and she was alone, without human habitation in sight, on a lonely moorland overlooking the sea.
    She paused to catch her breath, then stared out at the water below.
    She had no destination. All she could think were her father’s words, “The sea is our friend . . . find the sea . . . follow the sea.”
    With her father gone, the great expanse of blue he had loved was now the only link to her life with him. Movement gradually again came to her legs, and slowly she continued on. No thoughts or plans entered her mind, only an impulse to keep the sea in sight. If the sea had taken her mother, maybe it would now take her. She must remain near it.

 4 
A Little Girl Named Chelsea
    Amanda rode into Milverscombe, tied her horse, and absently walked into one of the town’s few shops. She had nothing on her mind to do other than distract herself from the unpleasant reminders that the visit to Maggie had stirred up within her. She did not necessarily want to avoid the thoughts—she knew this time of growth was necessary—but did not want to be alone with them.
    â€œHello, Miss Rutherford,” said the shopkeeper warmly as she entered. “Is there something I can help you find?”
    â€œNo, but thank you, Mrs. Feldstone,” replied Amanda. “I just thought I would look at some of your fabric.”
    Amanda wandered through the few bolts of cloth the shop had on hand and toward the back of the store. But in her present frame of mind nothing here was of interest. She smiled at the round-faced woman and left, continuing along the street in the direction of the station.
    Suddenly she heard footsteps behind her running along the boarded walk. She turned and saw a girl of eleven or twelve whom she did not recognize running toward her. The moment she saw Amanda turn, the girl stopped.
    For an uncertain second or two they stared at one another. At last the girl spoke.
    â€œYou’re Amanda Rutherford,” she said excitedly.
    â€œYes . . . yes, I am,” replied Amanda. “How did you know?”
    â€œOh, I know who you are. My mother told me how you went to London to join the suffragettes. It was so exciting. I always wanted to be like you.”
    The sting of hot tears filled Amanda’s eyes and she looked away. She could not hold the gaze even of a little girl for the shame of what she had just heard.
    After a moment she turned back, brushed at her eyes, and knelt down.
    â€œWhat is your name?” she asked.
    â€œChelsea . . . Chelsea Winters,” said the girl.
    â€œOh yes,” smiled Amanda, “now I remember . . . I know your mother.” She paused, looking earnestly into the girl’s face. “Chelsea,” she went on seriously. “I am going to tell you something I hope you will remember and think about.”
    The girl’s eyes returned Amanda’s stare with wide silence.
    â€œI am not a person you should want to be like, Chelsea,” Amanda went on. “When I was your age I did not know how much my parents loved me. I did not pay enough attention to what they told me, and it landed me in a great deal of trouble.”
    The awestruck expression on the face gazing back at her sobered.
    â€œDo you understand, Chelsea?”
    Slowly the girl nodded.
    â€œBe a good girl, Chelsea, not a proud and selfish one like Amanda Rutherford was.”
    Amanda felt her voice beginning to fail her. She rose and walked away, leaving little Chelsea Winters silently staring after her.
    â€”———
    Somehow the day passed. When shadows of evening began to lengthen, Elsbet’s stout little legs were easily fifteen or twenty miles along the coast away from the town she had never set foot outside of before that day. Even had her father’s murderers known they had been