He ran from the mill; the raised path was already three feet deep in water; he could scarcely make his way along it. Ah! there lay the boat. Now he was in it, and now they were flying before the crest of a huge wave. The dam of the cutting had given altogether, and fed from sea and land at once, by snow, by rain, and by the inrush of the high tide, its waters were pouring in a measureless volume over the doomed marshes. “Where is Elsa?” screamed Adrian. “I don’t know. I couldn’t find her,” answered Ramiro. “Row, row for your lives! We can take her off in the morning, and the priest too, if he won back.” At length the cold winter sun rose over the watery waste, calm enough now, for the floods were out, in places ten and fifteen feet deep. Through the mists that brooded on the face of them Ramiro and his crew groped their way back to where the Red Mill should be. It was gone! There stood the brick walls of the bottom story rising above the flood level, but the wooden upper part had snapped before the first great wave when the bank went bodily, and afterwards been swept away by the rushing current, swept away with those within. “What is that?” said one of the boatmen, pointing to a dark object which floated among the tangled _debris_ of sere weeds and woodwork collected against the base of the mill. They rowed to the thing. It was the body of Father Thomas, who must have missed his footing as he ran along the pathway, and fallen into deep water. “Um!” said Ramiro, “‘a virgin’s curse.’ Observe, friends, how the merest coincidences may give rise to superstition. Allow me,” and, holding the dead man by one hand, he felt in his pockets with the other, till, with a smile of satisfaction, he found the purse containing the gold which he had paid him on the previous evening. “Oh! Elsa, Elsa,” moaned Adrian. “Comfort yourself, my son,” said Ramiro as the boat put about, leaving the dead Father Thomas bobbing up and down in the ripple; “you have indeed lost a wife whose temper gave you little prospect of happiness, but at least I have your marriage papers duly signed and witnessed, and—you are her heir.” He did not add that he in turn was Adrian’s. But Adrian thought of it, and even in the midst of his shame and misery wondered with a shiver how long he who was Ramiro’s next of kin was likely to adorn this world. Till he had something that was worth inheriting, perhaps. CHAPTER XXVII WHAT ELSA SAW IN THE MOONLIGHT