Sir Adrian halted in front of his seaward window, staring at the driven rain, which bounded and plashed and spread in minute torrents down the glass, obscuring the already darkening vision of furious sea and sky.
The dog, that for some moments had shown an anxious restlessness in singular concert with his master's, now rose at last to sniff beneath the door. No sound penetrated the roar of the blast; but the old retriever's uneasiness, his sharp, warning bark at length recalled Sir Adrian's wandering thoughts to the present. And, walking up to the door, he opened it.
Oh, God! Had the sea given up its dead?
Sir Adrian staggered back, fell on his knees and clapped his hands together with an agonised cry:
"Cécile...!"
CHAPTER VI
THE WHEEL OF TIME
And to his eye
There was but one beloved face on earth,
And that was shining on him.
Byron.