Thus I lay one midsummer night, listening to the whir and beating of a great storm that had come up suddenly from out the south, after the day had closed. Above the roar of the wind and the splash of the water on the roof, I could plainly hear the wash of the river as it beat on our shore, and this as if to add to the strength and rhythm of the storm. If by chance the wind abated for a moment, the rain fell anew, and in torrents, as if the deluge were come again. Then, it in turn showing some pause, the wind would spring up afresh, and in such fury that the windows and logs of the house trembled as if shaken by an earthquake. While I lay thus listening, not caring to sleep, and in such comfort of position and delight of mind that movement of any kind was like pain, there came to me above the tumult of the tempest, faintly and far off like an echo, the dull boom of the Penitent’s bell. But that could hardly be, for surely no one would venture abroad on such a night! Thinking thus, I lay still, and in a little while it came again, and plaintively, the like of which I had never heard before. There could be no mistake now; it was the Penitent’s bell calling, and nothing else! Still I did not move. The storm was too great, and no boat could live in it a minute! Then let the great tree shelter its guest, for there was no other way. Turning uneasily on my bed, the signal came again and stronger, booming above the swash of the water and the rush of the wind as if it were the voice of some one crying out in anguish of body and mind, not far off nor vaguely now, but high and resounding, as if tolling for the dead or dying. Frightened, I sat bolt upright; and soon it came to me again, and with greater stress of melancholy, if that were possible. Trembling, unable to withstand the call longer, I sprang up, and putting on my garments, quickly found my way to the floor below. Those resting there had not heard the summons, and so leaving them undisturbed, I opened the door and stepped out into the night. At this, and as if watching my coming, the wind, rising to new fury, tossed me here and there so that I could scarce keep my feet. Above, there was some glimpse of light in the leaden sky, but about me only inky darkness and the circling wind and falling rain. As I stood clutching a tree, loath to go on, the boom of the bell came again, and as if with new import and stress of haste. No longer hesitating, I hurried on, listening as I ran; and now, I know not why, stricken with a chill, as if somehow its tolling meant harm to me or those I loved.