At the familiar gate a tall, thin woman's figure stopped his heart a second, and as a fitful gust blew out her apron and tossed her shawl over her head, he felt his breath come more quickly. "Good heavens!" he muttered, "what folly! Am I never to see a woman's skirt blown without----" She put the shawl back as he neared her--it was Mrs. Storrs's sister. She met his outstretched hand with a blank stare. Suddenly her face twitched convulsively. "O Mr. Willard! O Mr. Willard!" she cried, and burst into tears. The wind blew sharper, the elm tree near the window creaked, a dull pain grew in him. "What is it? What's the matter?" he said brusquely. "I suppose you ain't heard--you wouldn't be apt to!" she sobbed, and pushing back the locks the wind drove into her reddened eyes, she broke into incoherent sentences: he heard her as one in a dream. "And she would go--'twas the twenty-fifth--there was dozens o' trees blown down--'twas just before dark--her mother, she ran out after her as soon's she knew--she called, but she didn't hear--she saw her on the edge o' the rocks, an' she almost got up to her an' screamed, an' it scared her, we think--she turned 'round quick, an' she went right off the cliff an' her mother saw her go--'twas awful!" Willard's eyes went beyond her to the woods; the woman's voice, with its high, flat intonation, brought the past so vividly before him that he was unconscious of the actual scene--he lived through the quick, terrible drama with the intensity of a witness of it. "No, they haven't found her yet--the surf's too high. We always had a feeling she wouldn't live--she wasn't like other girls----" Half unconsciously he unwrapped the photograph. "I--I brought this," he said dully. The woman blanched and clutched the gate-post. "Oh, take it away! Take it away!" she gasped, a real terror in her eyes. "O Mr. Willard, how could you--it's awful! I--I wouldn't have her mother see it for all the world!" Her sobs grew uncontrollable. He bent it slowly across and thrust it in his pocket. "No, no," he said soothingly, "of course not, of course not. I only wanted to tell--you all--that it took the prize I told you about and--and was a good thing for me. I hoped--I hoped----" He saw that she was trembling in the sudden cold wind, and held out his hand. "This has been a great shock to me," he said quietly, his eyes still on the woods. "Please tell Mrs. Storrs how I sympathise--how startled I was. I am going abroad in a few days. I will send you my address, and if there is ever anything I can do, you will gratify me more than you can know by letting me help you in any way. Give her these," and he thrust out the great bunch of daffodils to her. She took them, still crying softly, and turned towards the house.