"Do with it? I shall love it so, it will _have_ to be good to me. I shall sing, and I shall travel--go everywhere, do everything. I mustn't miss a single thing--oh, dear no! not a single, single thing." Silence a moment, and then, "There's just one thought troubles me," she said. "Ah yes, there's always one--when there aren't more." "Less time than a silly old elephant's got--and here my father's had to put off starting till the spring. I hope I shall be able to wait all that time for him; but sometimes I feel as if I shouldn't." "Ah, but your promise to me!" "What was it I promised, cousin Ethan?" Sharply, in the silence, a cry rang out. Ethan leaped to his feet. "It's only the ghost," said Val, quietly. "Of course--Yaffti. But what on earth--" "Yaffti?" "I heard it as a child, and called it 'Yaffti.' What the devil is it?" "Only the clumsy old lightning-rod shrieking in its rusty fixtures when the wind blows." "How do you know?" "I lay on the rug here and listened, and then walked round and round the house in the wind till I found out what it was made the crying sound." "Weren't you frightened?" "Oh yes, dreadfully." "H'm! So Yaffti turns out to be the spirit of the blast!" "I was awfully disappointed. I hoped it was a real ghost. Why did you call it Yaffti?" "Oh, well, what would you call it if you didn't call it Yaffti?" She laughed. "I'm forgetting you hate the gloaming. I must go and tell Venie to bring the coal, and--" "Don't go!" he said, suddenly, holding out a hand. She laughed, a little nervously. "I believe you're afraid of the dark." "Yes, little cousin, I've always been afraid of the dark." She moved away towards the door. "Val!" The voice seemed to fall on her naked heart, and made it shrink deliciously. "Val!" "Yes," she said, hardly above a whisper. Was anything else said? She never knew. She remembered nothing but groping blindly two or three steps, and then suddenly realizing that she was going towards him in the dusk with shaking, outstretched hands. For what? "Oh, God! what am I doing?" She wheeled about with a sharp inward twist of mortification. Blessing the kindly dark, she made for the door. "Don't go!" said the voice. "Only to get the light," she said, clinging to the door-knob, shaken into trembling from crown to toe. "It's not dark, little cousin, while you're here." She did not stir--nor he. The clock ticked loud. The wind had risen and was howling like a beaten hound. How curious, thought the man, vaguely, that the natural sounds of wind, or sea, or falling inland waters, or the voices of night creatures, are all sad or else discordant. Surely, surely the spirit of the world is the spirit of plaint and dole. "Val!" "Yes, cousin Ethan." "You are too far off. Bring the light nearer." She heard steps creaking down the stair. Or was it only that Yaffti turned and strained in his rusty fetters? The door was hurriedly opened. "Why are you two sitting in the dark?" said John Gano.