the Holy
Ghost in this dire emergency. When I entered the room where Elizabeth
lay, 'twas to the grateful discovery that she had rallied: her breath
came without wheeze or gasp; the labored, spasmodic beating of her
heart no longer shook the bed. 'Twas now as though, I thought, they
had troubled her with questions concerning her soul or her sin; for
she was turned sullen--lying rigid and scowling, with her eyes fixed
upon the whitewashed rafters, straying only in search of Judith, who
sat near, grieving in dry sobs, affrighted.

And 'twas said that this Elizabeth had within the span of my short
life been a maid most lovely! There were no traces of that beauty and
sprightliness remaining. I wondered, being a lad, that unkindness
should work a change so sad in any one. 'Twas a mystery.... The room
was cold. 'Twas ghostly, too--with Death hovering there invisible.
Youth is mystified and appalled by the gaunt Thing. I shivered.
Within, the gale sighed and moaned and sadly whispered; 'twas blowing
in a melancholy way--foreboding some inevitable catastrophe. Set on a
low ledge of the cliff, the cottage sagged towards the edge, as if to
peer at the breakers; and clammy little draughts stole through the
cracks of the floor and walls, crying as they came, and crept about,
searching out the uttermost corners, with sighs and cold fingers.

'Twas a mean, poor place for a woman to lie in extremity.... And she
had once been lovely--with warm, live youth, with twinkling eyes and
modesty, with sympathy and merry ways to win the love o' folk! Ay; but
'twas wondrous hard to believe.... 'Twas a mean station of departure,
indeed--a bare, disjointed box of a room, low-ceiled, shadowy, barren
of comfort, but yet white and neat, kept by Judith's clever,
conscientious, loving hands. There was one small window, outlooking to
sea, black-paned in the wild night, whipped with rain and spray. From
without--from the vastness of sea and night--came a confused and
distant wail, as of the lamentation of a multitude. Was this my fancy?
I do not know; but yet it seemed to me--a lad who listened and
watched--that a wise, pitying, unnumbered throng lamented.

I could not rid my ears of this wailing....

* * * * *

Elizabeth had rallied; she might weather it out, said the five wives
of Whisper Cove, who had gathered to observe her departure.

"If," Aunt Esther qualified, "she's let _be_."

"Like she done la