man looked dubious, but observing my wet clothes on a chair he
seemed to think that something had happened, and went to do my
bidding.

In a very short time my mother entered the room. I felt that my
moments of consciousness were brief, and began my story as soon as we
were alone. I told her how the sudden dread that Wynne would steal
the amulet had come upon me; I told her how I had run down to the
churchyard and discovered the landslip; I told her how, on seeing the
landslip, I had descended the gangway and found the body of Wynne,
the amulet, the casket, and the written curse. But I did not tell her
that I had met Winifred on the sands. Excited as I was, I had the
presence of mind not to tell her that.

As I proceeded with my narrative, with my mother sitting by my
bedside, a look of horror, then a look of loathing, then a look of
scorn, swept over her face. I knew that the horror was of the
sacrilege. I knew that the loathing and the haughty scorn expressed
her feeling towards the despoiler--the father of her whose cause I
might have to plead; and I began to wish from the bottom of my heart
that I had not taken her into my confidence. When I got to the
finding of Tom's body, and the look of terror stamped upon his face,
a new expression broke over hers--an expression of triumphant hate
that was fearful.

'Thank God at least for that!' she said. Then she murmured, 'But that
does not atone.'

Ah! how I regretted now that I had consulted her on a subject where
her proud imperious nature must be so deeply disturbed. But it was
too late to retreat.

'Henry,' she said, 'this is a shocking story you tell me. After
losing my husband this is the worst that could have happened to
me--the violation of his sacred tomb. Had I only hearkened to my own
misgiving about the miscreant! Yet I wonder you did not wait till the
morning before telling me.'

'Wait till the morning?' I said, forgetting that she did not know
what was at my heart.

'Doubtless the matter is important, Henry,' said she. 'Still, the
mischief is done, the hideous crime has been committed, and the news
of it could have waited till morning.'

'But, mother, unless my father's words are idle breath, it is
important, most important, that the amulet should again be buried
with him. I meant to go to the sands in the morning and wait for the
ebbing tide--I meant to take the cross from the breast of the dead
man, and to replace it in my father's coffin. That,