Blind Love

In the evening, the two women--Mrs. Vimpany and Fanny--were seated in

the housekeeper's room. Both had work in their laps: neither was doing

any work. The autumnal day had been boisterous; the wind was getting

higher.

"What are you thinking of?" asked Fanny.

"I was thinking of my husband. If he were to come back, Fanny--if he

were to threaten--"

"You would loose my tongue--you would let me speak?"

"Yes; for her sake. I would have shielded him once---if I could. But

not now. I know, at last, that there is no single good thing left in

him."

"You have heard from him. I saw the letter this morning, in the box. I

knew the handwriting. I have been waiting for you to speak."

"Hush! Yes, Fanny; I have heard from him. He wants money. He will come

here to-morrow morning, and will threaten Mr. Mountjoy. Keep your

mistress in her own room. Persuade her to lie in bed--anything."

"He does not know what I have seen. Charge him with the murder of the

Dane. Tell him," said Fanny, her lips stiffening, "that if he dares to

come again--if he does not go away--he shall be arrested for murder. I

will keep silence no longer!"

"I will--I am resolved! Oh! who will rid us of this monster?"

Outside, the gale rose higher--higher still. They heard it howling,

grinding branches together; they heard the roaring and the rushing of

the waters as the rising tide was driven over the shallow sands, like a

mountain reservoir at loose among the valleys below.

In the midst of the tempest there came a sudden lull. Wind and water

alike seemed hushed. And out of the lull, as if in answer to the

woman's question, there came a loud cry--the shriek of a man in deadly

peril.

The two women caught each other by the hand and rushed to the window.

They threw it open; the tempest began again; a fresh gust drove them

back; the waters roared: the wind howled; they heard the voice no more.

They closed the window and put up the shutters.

It was long past midnight when they dared to go to bed. One of them lay

awake the whole night long. In the roaring tempest she had seen an omen

of the wrath of Heaven about to fall once more upon her mistress.

She was wrong. The wrath of Heaven fell upon one far more guilty.

In the morning, with the ebbing tide, a dead body was found lashed to

the posts of one of the standing nets in the Solway. It was recognised

by Hugh, who went out to look at it, and found it the body of Vimpany.