And then faintly the exultation sank; dimmed, rather, as on a summer day the sharpness goes out of the high lights on lawn and wall. The sun is not gone, but the farthest and finest quality of it is suddenly withdrawn. In some such way a blurring of vivid certainties came upon her brain. A breath of wind was blown sharply through the open window, and with a touch of surprise she found that she was cold. The fire, so lately encouraged by the visitor’s presence, had died sulkily into grey clinkers tinged with red that had no more warmth to it than a splash of paint. The candle, on the other hand, had sprung into a tall flame from a high wick. It was as if it was making a last effort to illumine the world for the woman over whose mind was creeping that vague and blurring mist. With the slackening of the mental tension her physical self slackened, too. She began to rock to and fro, muttering softly as she swayed. "Blind thoughts in a blind body’s brain!" she was saying to herself.... "Ay, it’s about time. A blind night and a blind tide.... Ay, it’s about time...." And yet through the blind night and with her blind sight she still saw the figure swinging over the sands, broad, confident, strong, as were all at Blindbeck,--successful and rich. Always her mind kept close at its back, seeing the solid print of it on the air, feeling the muscular firmness of its tread, and hearing the little whistled tune that kept escaping between its teeth.... Suddenly she raised her voice, as if addressing somebody a long way off. "What d’you want wi’ a bed as’ll never sleep in bed again? Nay, my lad, you’ll have nowt but churchyard mould! ... Yon’s if they find him, when the tide comes in. There’ll be a bonny fairing for Eliza when the tide comes in!" She stopped abruptly as Simon clattered into the room, holding herself motionless by a final effort of will. He glanced uneasily at the still figure, the unspread table and the dead fire, but he did not speak. He was still conscious of guilt and ready to make amends, even to the extent of going supperless to bed. Outside the door, he had felt curiously certain that Sarah was not alone, and even now he looked into corners for figures that were not there. Coming in from the dark on the marsh, his instinct had told him instantly that the atmosphere had changed, but the knowledge faded once he was well inside. He wondered whether anything had been done with the milk, but did not like to ask, and, setting the still-lighted lantern on the floor, stooped to unloose his boots. "All yon talk about Geordie’s fair give me the jumps!" he remarked suddenly, with an embarrassed laugh. "I could ha’ sworn I heard his voice as I was snecking shuppon door!" She did not answer, and with an inward curse at his own foolishness he bent lower over his boots. "Another o’ yon big tides," he went on hurriedly, when the thongs were loosed. "It’s sharp on t’road now. I could hear it as I come in."