The duke sternly said: "In the name of heaven, I charge you, Reverend Sir, that you will forthwith explain what all this may mean? Although the days of superstition still exist, yet nevertheless I must protest against supernatural agency."
Doctor M'Kenzie said: "Permit me to ask one question of the duchess, and then I will, as far at least as I can, throw some light on this dark mystery. May I be permitted to ask your Grace, if Sir David Bruce will return?"
"Never—oh, never! Reverend Sir," was the reply; "I just have heard so from my daughter."
"Then," said the chaplain, "I am at liberty to explain, without any violation of promise. I have no doubt that your Graces both recollect the narrative of my voyage from Scotland, from the port of Ayr, and of my having been shipwrecked on the coast of Austrian Flanders."
The duke and duchess nodded assent.
"You may also recollect the mysterious passenger who appeared so deeply overpowered by grief—Colonel Davidson."
They both remembered.
"You may also doubtless recollect the words of that terrific song—that was pronounced by no earthly voice—that was sung to no earthly sound! To the last solemn hour of my existence I never can forget it. The words and tune are in my ears when I awaken in the morn—they ring their horrid vespers in my ears at night, and dirge me in my sleep. Can your Graces remember some of the words?—namely the voice of the Spirit of the Storm, and