"Oh, son, don't look that way at me," said the woman, in a shaken voice. "I would prevent it if I could; what can I do?" "You might jump in and follow your husband; that's what he wants, I suppose," returned the son, angrily. "It's you that wronged him, not I; and as long as you're here we'll have no luck. That's the long and short of it!" The laugh had died away, and Jael, pressing her hand above her heart, turned aside and passed out. She loved her son, and would have shed her blood for him; but this was not the first time he had spoken thus. After she was gone, David stood at the window, biting his lips and muttering to himself. Suddenly he heard Gloam's step behind him, and looked round in surprise. "What was that noise?" Gloam asked. "Why, nothing new, sir. The same old story. Something wrong with the wheel again, I suppose." "I remember no such sound before," said Gloam, excitedly. "It is hideous, like the shriek of an evil spirit. Let it never come again; it frightens Swanhilda, and comes between us like a prophecy of woe. Let it never come again!" "You have taken to hearing through her ears and feeling through her senses--that's all the matter," answered David, smiling. "It sounds bad to you because it makes her head ache. As to stopping it, I'd do so, and gladly, if I but knew how. It loses us half our custom, for folks say the devil's at the bottom of it, sure enough." "It is a wicked sound!" exclaimed Gloam again, "full of mockery and bitterness. Swanhilda was born to hear divine harmonies, and she will leave us if we greet her with such hideous discord." "She was born to take her chance with the rest of the world, Mr. Gloam," replied the younger man, in a harder tone. Then he smiled again and added, in his muttering way, as he left the room, "She'll get used to it fast enough, never fear."