The Bare Plain might be said to specially deserve its name this evening as Frank traversed it. In the morning the wind had been high, but nothing to what it was now. It played amidst the openings surrounding the Bottomless Shaft, going in with a whirr, coming out with a rush, and shrieked and moaned fearfully. The popular belief indulged in by the miners was, that this unearthly shrieking and moaning, which generally disturbed the air on these boisterous nights, proceeded not from the wind, but from Dan Sandon's ghost. Frank Raynor of course had no faith in the ghost--Dan Sandon's, or any other--but he shuddered as he hastened on. The illness, more incipient than declared as yet, from which Mrs. Bell was suffering, had seemed to cease with her trouble. Her husband's mysterious disappearance was followed by much necessary exertion, both of mind and body, on her own part; and her ailments almost left her. Dr. Raynor suspected--perhaps knew--that the improvement was only temporary; but he did not tell her so. Dame Bell moved briskly about her house during this time, providing for the comforts of her lodgers, and waiting for the husband who did not come. Rosaline did not come, either. And her prolonged absence seemed to her mother most unaccountable, her excuses for it unreasonable. As the days and the weeks had gone on, and Rosaline's return seemed to be no nearer than ever, Dame Bell grew angry. She at length made up her mind to go to Falmouth and bring back the runaway with her own hands. Easier said than done: as Mrs. Bell found. When after two days' absence, she returned to her home on the Bare Plain, she returned alone: her daughter was not with her. This was only a few days ago. The dame had been ailing ever since, some of the old symptoms having returned again--the result perhaps of the travelling--and she had that day sent a neighbour to Dr. Raynor's for some medicine. Frank Raynor made the best of his way across the windy plain, and lifted the latch of Dame Bell's door. She stood at the table, ironing by candle-light, her feet resting upon an old thick mat to keep them from any draught. Frank, making himself at home as usual, sat down by the ironing-board, telling her to go on with her occupation, and inquired into her ailments. "You ought not to have taken the journey," said Frank, promptly, when questions and answers were over. "Travelling is not good for you." "But I could not help taking it," returned Dame Bell, beginning upon the wristbands of a shirt she was ironing. "When Rosaline never came home, and paid no attention to my ordering her to come home, it was time I went to see after her." "She has not come back with you?" "No, she has not," retorted Dame Bell, ironing away with a viciousness that imperilled the wristband. "I couldn't make her come, Mr. Frank. Cords would not have dragged her. Of all the idiots! to let those Whistlers frighten her from a place for good, like that!"