ought not to disturb her; and descending again to the parlour he
placed the letter on the mantelpiece to give it to her in the morning.

At eleven o'clock he went to bed himself, smoked for some time in his
bedroom, put out his light at half-past eleven, and then, as was his
invariable custom, pulled up the blind before getting into bed, that
he might see which way the wind blew on opening his eyes in the
morning, his bedroom window commanding a view of the flagstaff and
vane. Just as he had lain down he was surprised to observe the white
pole of the staff flash into existence like a streak of phosphorus
drawn downwards across the shade of night without. Only one
explanation met this--a light had been suddenly thrown upon the pole
from the direction of the house. As everybody had retired to rest the
old man felt it necessary to get out of bed, open the window softly,
and look to the right and left. Eustacia's bedroom was lighted up,
and it was the shine from her window which had lighted the pole.
Wondering what had aroused her, he remained undecided at the window,
and was thinking of fetching the letter to slip it under her door,
when he heard a slight brushing of garments on the partition dividing
his room from the passage.

The captain concluded that Eustacia, feeling wakeful, had gone for a
book, and would have dismissed the matter as unimportant if he had not
also heard her distinctly weeping as she passed.

"She is thinking of that husband of hers," he said to himself. "Ah,
the silly goose! she had no business to marry him. I wonder if that
letter is really his?"

He arose, threw his boat-cloak round him, opened the door, and said,
"Eustacia!" There was no answer. "Eustacia!" he repeated louder,
"there is a letter on the mantelpiece for you."

But no response was made to this statement save an imaginary one from
the wind, which seemed to gnaw at the corners of the house, and the
stroke of a few drops of rain upon the windows.

He went on to the landing, and stood waiting nearly five minutes.
Still she did not return. He went back for a light, and prepared
to follow her; but first he looked into her bedroom. There, on the
outside of the quilt, was the impression of her form, showing that the
bed had not been opened; and, what was more significant, she had not
taken her candlestick downstairs. He was now thoroughly alarmed; and
hastily putting on his clothes he descended to the front door, which
he himself had