Even as he spoke the room was suddenly filled with the sound of the sea. Before the majesty of the coming presence the whole house seemed to cringe and cower. Sarah felt the room swing round with her, and caught at the table, gripping the edge of it until her very fingers seemed of wood. "There it be!" Simon said, raising himself. "It’s big, as I said." He clanked across to the window as he spoke, the laces slapping and trailing on the flags, and again, as he put his face to the square, the wind that blows before the tide stirred mightily through the room. Far-off, but coming fast, they could hear the messenger from the deep, sweeping its garment over the head of the crouched waste, as it sped to deliver its challenge at the locked gate of the sea-wall. Sarah had still control over her actual body, but no more. With Simon’s entrance she had realised herself again, and knew that she was weak and old, with a mind that had got beyond her, and cried and ran to and fro as Jim would run when he heard the Wave. Always she seemed to herself to be close at his back, but now she ran to warn him and stumbled as she ran. She flung out her arms towards him in an aching passion to hold him close, and in that moment felt the truth drop, stilly, into her whirling brain. He turned his face towards her swiftly as they went, and for all its likeness it was not Jim’s face. She saw him swept and helpless in the swirl of the tide, and in the dark and the tumult knew that the precious body was not Jim’s. She saw him borne in the stillness of morning to the haunted Tithe-Barn where all the drowned were laid, and by the light of the truth that there is between living and dead knew she had always known it was not Jim.... "I hope May’s gitten back," Simon was saying anxiously, as he peered out. "I hope she’s landed back...." Presently he leaned further, and gave a sigh of relief. "Ay,--there goes Fleming’s lamp!" Instantly, as the light went out, there came from the sands a whistle and then a cry. Simon spun round, saying, "What’s yon?" with a frightened look, and when the call came again he snatched the lantern from the floor. The third call came suddenly faint, as if its author were running towards the tide, and with a harsh cry a gull swept white and huge beyond the pane. Simon fell back at the sight of it, crying aloud, and throwing his arm before his eyes. But at the same moment Sarah burst her bonds. "Geordie, Geordie!" she screamed, and ran frenziedly to the door. "Nay, it’s over now," she finished, falling back against the wall. "Gang out and seek our fairing, master,--mine and thine!" PRINTED AT WM. BRENDON AND SON, LTD. PLYMOUTH. ENGLAND ―――― CONSTANCE HOLME’S NOVELS CRUMP FOLK GOING HOME 6s. net