ssion of thankfulness on her
face; a look of intense relief, as though a burden was taken away.

I knew my fate then; and while it gave me joy to give her one minute's
pleasure, yet it was agony to think that the promise of my absence
should be the cause of it. So great indeed was the pain that I could
not bear it, and stumbled blindly out. In spite of the fact that when
I got into the hall I thought I heard her calling "Roger" I rushed away
to the cliffs, whither I always fled in my hours of trouble.

But the events of the day were not yet at an end. As I stood alone
looking at the sea I saw a great cloud rising in the northern sky.
Soon I knew we should be enveloped in it and feel its darkness. In
like manner was there a cloud, darker than all the rest, rising in the
sky of my life. What it was I could not say; but I felt its coining,
and I shuddered. "Coming events cast their shadows before," says the
old adage, and looking backward I can see how true it was in this case.

Aimlessly I wandered on while the evening shadows gathered around, and
the sea sobbed its sad song, telling me of the storm that was surely
coming. As chance or fate would have it, I passed by the cottage of
old Deborah Teague, and there in the grey twilight I saw her, with
Mally Udy, quietly smoking. They looked up at my approach, but spoke
not. A low chuckle escaped both of them, however, but I had no heart
to speak to them. Still, their gruesome appearance added to the dark
feelings that possessed me, and the dark shadows became more real.

At length I made my way back to the house, and although I was its
lawful owner, and although every inch of land for a long distance
around was mine, I felt that I was a stranger and an interloper. It
was cold, too, cold as a vault, and as I passed along, the stone paved
hall made a clanking noise which echoed through the silent rooms. I
heard the wind howling too, and the sea began to roar, and when this
was so there was always a ghostly, weird feeling about our old grey
house.

As if drawn on by a spell, I made my way to the library, and on
arriving there found my mother sitting alone.

"I have been waiting for you, Roger," said my mother quietly. "I felt
there were some things about which I ought to speak to-night, and so
would not retire until I saw you."

"And what about the girls, mother?" I said. "Where are they, and where
is Wilfred?"

"They are all gone to bed. It has been a te