“Where is he?” whispered Elsie. “I heard him crying in the woods last night, crying out so mournfully; but I knew the reason; he had lost the child. Oh! how one cries out who has lost a child! But I found it. Ha! ha! I found it! and let him wail on. No wonder he complained all night, it is very lonesome to be without one’s child. Do you think he will moan every night till the boy goes back?”
“He will come and ask you to stay with him,” said the crafty wretch, drawing a deep breath as she felt the pale hands unclasp from her throat.
“But you will not go—you will stay here, or sail off over the seas away, away. Yes, yes, I will go down into the woods. Turn your face to the east and I will go westward. One, two graves shall be under the setting sun, canopied with clouds of crimson and amber and pale green, all floating, floating, floating. But you—you shall die alone, alone, alone!”
Her hands dropped away from the trembling creature, and were flung triumphantly upward. Her voice rose and swelled into a sort of chant, and as she passed through the hall, the words, “Alone, alone, alone,” came back with a mournful emphasis that made even that bad woman turn pale.
CHAPTER L.
A VISITOR TO BREAKFAST.
The old gentleman, who had regarded this scene in anxious silence, now moved forward and confronted his unwelcome visitor.
“Madam, this is your second visit here,” he said; “what new trouble is to fall upon us?”
“He-he!” laughed the woman, hysterical with fright, “I only came to inquire after the interesting young lady, who has made my neck burn with her fingers. Her welcome was a warmer one than yours.”
“What is your business here?” persisted the old man.
“Nothing, nothing. I came down to the Island for amusement, and thought I’d just call and see how things went on in the old place. You don’t seem glad to see me. But I got used to that long ago. Nice little fellow, isn’t it?”