rocks below, as if trying to see Wilfred,
but nothing was visible. The rocks told no stories; the moaning sea
did not recount what had become of my brother's body.

Had he been found, I wondered? It could scarcely be otherwise.
Fisherman were constantly tramping along the beach, and when he was
missed search would certainly be made. Still it might not have so
happened; I would go down to the beach to see. The tide was ebbing
out, and I could easily walk along the sands at the foot of the cliffs.

I went to the place where a rough track had been made, and soon got on
the beach. It was a glorious night; the sea shone beneath the silvery
light of the moon, and had I any melody in my heart the splash of the
water on the beach must have made music to me; but there was nothing
but remorse and despair within me, thus, what would have otherwise have
been a song of gladness was only a wail of misery.

When I came to the place beneath the point where we had wrestled, I
looked for a sign of Wilfred's body, but there was nothing to be seen,
nor was there any marks on the sand, not even a footmark was visible.
This was not altogether strange, for the tide would have washed away
any such marks, and yet I wondered at none being visible when such a
terrible tragedy had taken place.

Near here was a cave, and, scarcely knowing what I was doing, I entered
it. I spoke, but was frightened by the echo of my own voice. I dared
not stay there long. Every sound was magnified so, and as the waves
broke upon the shore their echo thundered around the walls of my grim
resting-place, until it seemed filled with thousands of dark spirits of
the dead.

I went out again into the night, and wandered on until I came to the
witches' cave. I seemed drawn, as if by a charm, and for a minute I
had a strong desire to go where I had gone long years before, when
Deborah Teague tried to make me promise ever to be her friend; but
fancying I heard sounds within the dark confines of the cavern, I
hurried away filled with superstitious fears.

Then a new feeling possessed me. I must get away from England and
never return. There was no hope; no peace for me here. Wilfred was
dead--destroyed by my hand, and Ruth loathed me. I would go away on
the wild seas again, and perhaps, although I could never know
happiness, I might find forgetfulness. Here I should be ever haunted
by fears; here, too, I was in danger of the law, once away I should be
safe.