'In the middle of the night he felt a pain in his shoulder, came broad
awake, and saw the gleaming eyes and grinning teeth of some animal close
to his face. Its claws were in his shoulder, and its mouth was in the
act of seeking his throat. Before it had fixed its fangs, however,
he had its throat in one hand, and sought his knife with the other.
A terrible struggle followed; but regardless of the tearing claws, he
found and opened his knife. He had made one futile stab, and was
drawing it for a surer, when, with a spring of the whole body, and one
wildly-contorted effort, the creature twisted its neck from his hold,
and with something betwixt a scream and a howl, darted from him.
Again he heard the door open; again the wind blew in upon him, and it
continued blowing; a sheet of spray dashed across the floor, and over
his face. He sprung from his couch and bounded to the door.
'It was a wild night--dark, but for the flash of whiteness from the
waves as they broke within a few yards of the cottage; the wind was
raving, and the rain pouring down the air. A gruesome sound as of
mingled weeping and howling came from somewhere in the dark. He turned
again into the hut and closed the door, but could find no way of
securing it.
'The lamp was nearly out, and he could not be certain whether the
form of the young woman was upon the bench or not. Overcoming a strong
repugnance, he approached it, and put out his hands--there was nothing
there. He sat down and waited for the daylight: he dared not sleep any
more.
'When the day dawned at length, he went out yet again, and looked
around. The morning was dim and gusty and gray. The wind had fallen,
but the waves were tossing wildly. He wandered up and down the little
strand, longing for more light.
'At length he heard a movement in the cottage. By and by the voice of
the old woman called to him from the door.
'“You're up early, sir. I doubt you didn't sleep well.”
'“Not very well,” he answered. “But where is your daughter?”
'“She's not awake yet,” said the mother. “I'm afraid I have but a poor
breakfast for you. But you'll take a dram and a bit of fish. It's all
I've got.”
'Unwilling to hurt her, though hardly in good appetite, he sat down at
the table. While they were eating the daughter came in, but turned her
face away and went to the further end of the hut. When she came forward
after a minute or two, the youth saw that her hair was drenched, and her
face whiter than before. She looked ill and faint, and when she raised
her eyes, all their fierceness had vanished, and sadness had taken its
place. Her neck was now covered with a cotton handkerchief. She was
modestly attentive to him, and no longer shunned his gaze. He was
gradually yielding to the temptation of braving another night in the
hut, and seeing what would follow, when the old woman spoke.
'“The weather will be broken all day, sir,” she said. “You had better be
going, or your friends will leave without you.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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