Alas! I knew not, and yet seemed to know too well. The cry still
rang in my ears and clamoured at my heart; while all the time a dull
sense told me that it must have been a dream, and a dull desire bade
me believe it so.

"Jasper, tell me--it cannot have been--"

She stopped as our eyes met, and the terrible suspicion grew and
mastered us, numbing, freezing, paralysing the life within us.
I tried to answer, but turned my head away. My mother sank once more
upon her knees, weeping, praying, despairing, wailing, while the
storm outside continued to moan and sob its passionate litany.



CHAPTER III.


TELLS OF TWO STRANGE MEN THAT WATCHED THE SEA UPON POLKIMBRA BEACH.

Morning came at last, and with the first grey light the storm had
spent its fury. By degrees my mother had grown calmer, and was now
sleeping peacefully upon her bed, worn out with the passion of her
terror. I had long ago dressed; but even had I wished to sleep
again, curiosity to know the meaning of that awful cry would have
been too strong for me. So, as soon as I saw that my mother was
asleep, I took my boots in my hand and crept downstairs. The kitchen
looked so ghostly in the dim light, that I had almost resolved to
give up my plan and go back, but reflected that it behoved me to play
the man, if only to be able to cheer mother when I came back.