The Argosy — page 331: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

314 In the Mist. I knew that the sorrowful task would be mine, though I would have given much to avoid it. I dared not think of the grief and desolation the tidings would bring into the home which the sweet girl’s presence had brightened. Il. NOTHING travels so swiftly as ill-tidings, and nothing is more infectious than suspicion. Before another day had dawned the tragedy was known far and wide, and as the news spread, a vague shadow of doubt and distrust gathered round Noel’s name. No accusation had yet been uttered, but on every side I heard the echo of Walter Borlace’s doubting question— ‘¢ Was it an accident P” Tremaine himself seemed unconscious of the whispered suspicion ; unconscious of everything except his despair. All day long he was wandering on the heights, or by the margin of the “cruel, crawling foam,” as if in the wild hope that the waves would give back what they had taken. There had been a sudden change in the weather. A strong north- westerly gale was rising, and as I sat in my study at the vicarage that evening I felt the sturdy old house vibrate beneath the gust, while the rain beat against the panes as if it would drive them in. I was endeavouring, not very successfully, to concentrate my mind on the sermon [I had begun when there was a tap at the door, and old Dan Tregellas, the sexton, entered, looking scared and startled. ‘‘What is it?” I enquired. ‘You look as if you had seen a ghost.” ‘Something like one, Sir. Coming up from the village just now I met young Tremaine, and it. gave me quite a turn.” “Where was he?” ‘On Penravon Cliff, just about where the accident happened. He was walking fast, talking to himself. I spoke to him, but he didn’t hear me; didn’t even see me, though he passed close tome. He was staring straight before him like a sleep-walker, and his face was as white as this ”—laying his finger on my writing-paper. ‘‘ I doubt his mind’s giving way, sir, and he’ll do himself a mischief if he’s not prevented.” I threw down my pen and rose. ‘“In which direction was he going ?” ‘“‘ Straight towards the Keep.” I drew aside the curtain and looked out. Dusk was deepening into night ; a wild stormy night of hurrying clouds and driving rain. Enough light remained to show me the massive form of the tower, standing sentinel above the angry sea. ‘Surely he doesn’t mean to spend the night in that dismal place?” old Dan muttered at my elbow. COMME IOO KSA) — —~-