In another hour, when I should have been drawing near Thrums, I found myself in a wood, and here I think my distress was greatest; nor is this to be marvelled at, for instead of being near Thrums, I was listening to the monotonous roar of the sea. I was too spent to reason, but I knew that I must have travelled direct east, and must be close to the German Ocean. I remember putting my back against a tree and shutting my eyes, and listening to the lash of the waves against the beach, and hearing the faint toll of a bell, and wondering listlessly on what lighthouse it was ringing. Doubtless I would have lain down to sleep forever had I not heard another sound near at hand. It was the knock of a hammer on wood, and might have been a fisherman mending his boat. The instinct of self-preservation carried me to it, and presently I was at a little house. A man was standing in the rain, hammering new hinges to the door; and though I did not recognize him, I saw with bewilderment that the woman at his side was Nanny. "It's the dominie," she cried, and her brother added: "Losh, sir, you hinna the look o' a living man." "Nanny," I said, in perplexity, "what are you doing here?" "Whaur else should I be?" she asked. I pressed my hands over my eyes, crying, "Where am I?" Nanny shrank from me, but Sanders said, "Has the rain driven you gyte, man? You're in Thrums." "But the sea," I said, distrusting him. "I hear it. Listen!" "That's the wind in Windyghoul," Sanders answered, looking at me queerly. "Come awa into the house." Chapter Thirty-Eight. THRUMS DURING THE TWENTY-FOUR HOURS--DEFENCE OF THE MANSE. Hardly had I crossed the threshold of the mudhouse when such a sickness came over me that I could not have looked up, though Nanny's voice had suddenly changed to Margaret's. Vaguely I knew that Nanny had put the kettle on the fire--a woman's first thought when there is illness in the house--and as I sat with my hands over my face I heard the water dripping from my clothes to the floor. "Why is that bell ringing?" I asked at last, ignoring all questions and speaking through my fingers. An artist, I suppose, could paint all expression out of a human face. The sickness was having that effect on my voice. "It's the Auld Licht bell," Sanders said; "and it's almost as fearsome to listen to as last nicht's rain. I wish I kent what they're ringing it for." "Wish no sic things," said Nanny nervously. "There's things it's best to put off kenning as lang as we can."