"But it ain't, chile; you doesn't know. It's wrong, and likewise sinful, to sit down a lookin' at de storm," persisted the old woman.
But Sibyl, without paying the slightest attention, still sat gazing out, while Aunt Moll from entreating took to scolding, which was likewise unheeded.
"Hold your tongue, Aunt Moll!" said her young mistress, at last, impatiently facing round, tired of hearing the garrulous old woman.
And at this unprecedented rebuke, Aunt Moll sat down before the fire in mortified silence.
Though burning with feverish impatience to meet Christie, and learn what meaning lay couched in her mysterious note, Sibyl found herself forced to wait until morning. The storm seemed steadily increasing, the wind raved wildly, shaking every beam in the old house, and the booming of the sea on the rocks was deafening.
Perhaps it was the wildly shrieking tempest, the appalling crash of the angry elements, but an unaccountable depression weighed on Sibyl's spirits—a creeping feeling of horror that no effort could shake off. She strove to rouse herself, to reason herself out of the superstitious dread that was overwhelming her, but in vain. A nameless terror had clutched her heart, and would not relax its hold.
And so the hours wore on, and midnight approached. And the storm without seemed to have shrieked and roared, and worn itself hoarse, and was at last relapsing into sullen silence. The fire on the hearth was burning low, and casting wild and fantastic shadows through the gloomy room. Aunt Moll lay in that deep, deathlike sleep which only those of her race enjoy, and her deep breathing sounded audibly through the room.
Exhausted with the excitement of the storm and her own thoughts, Sibyl rose and prepared herself for bed, hoping in sleep to lose the strange feeling that was overpowering her.
She lay down, but she wooed the drowsy god in vain. Sleep would not come at her call. So she tossed from side to side, wishing—vaguely, wildly—morning would come, and listening to the dreary beat of the waves on the shore.
A death-like silence reigned within the old house, while the storm without was still sullenly grumbling.