pable of relating them at all.

It was still early in the morning--I think about seven o'clock--when I
closed my cottage door behind me, never to open it again. I met only one
or two of my neighbours as I left the hamlet. They drew aside to let me
advance, without saying a word. With a heavy heart, grieved more than
I could have imagined possible at departing as an enemy from among the
people with whom I had lived as a friend, I passed slowly by the last
cottages, and ascended the cliff path which led to the moor.

The storm had raged at its fiercest some hours back. Soon after daylight
the wind sank; but the majesty of the mighty sea had lost none of
its terror and grandeur as yet. The huge Atlantic waves still hurled
themselves, foaming and furious, against the massive granite of the
Cornish cliffs. Overhead, the sky was hidden in a thick white mist, now
hanging, still and dripping, down to the ground; now rolling in shapes
like vast smoke-wreaths before the light wind which still blew at
intervals. At a distance of more than a few yards, the largest objects
were totally invisible. I had nothing to guide me, as I advanced, but
the ceaseless roaring of the sea on my right hand.

It was my purpose to get to Penzance by night. Beyond that, I had no
project, no thought of what refuge I should seek next. Any hope I might
have formerly felt of escaping from Mannion, had now deserted me for
ever. I could not discover by any outward indications, that he was still
following my footsteps. The mist obscured all objects behind me from
view; the ceaseless crashing of the shore-waves overwhelmed all landward
sounds, but I never doubted for a moment that he was watching me, as I
proceeded along my onward way.

I walked slowly, keeping from the edge of the precipices only by keeping
the sound of the sea always at the same distance from my ear; knowing
that I was advancing in the proper direction, though very circuitously,
as long as I heard the waves on my right hand. To have ventured on the
shorter way, by the moor and the cross-roads beyond it, would have been
only to have lost myself past all chance of extrication, in the mist.

In this tedious manner I had gone on for some time, before it struck
me that the noise of the sea was altering completely to my sense
of hearing. It seemed to be sounding very strangely on each side of
me--both on my right hand and on my left. I stopped and strained my eyes
to look through the mist, bu