"What is to be done next?" was the thought that arose through all the distracting rush of grief, horror, and remorse. "She will be missed; and if I am found here I will be taken for the murderer, and—" A shuddering spasm closed the sentence.
He rose to his feet, but tottered, so he could hardly walk; and, as if hurried by some uncontrollable impulse, took the road leading to the beach.
He reached the spot, where, in his first wild impulse of terror, he had dropped the body; but, far beyond that, the waves had risen, and the lifeless form was gone—swept away by the boiling waters.
A groan, so deep and hollow, that it seemed like rending his very heart, broke from his lips at the sight—his murdered Laura had found a grave in the boundless sea.
A footstep behind met his ear, and in terror he turned to fly; but, seeing only the half-witted boy, who had brought him over, he restrained himself and stood still.
Even through the dull mist of his clouded brain, the ghastly face before him, struck terror to the boy's soul. And well it might; for, with that white, death-like face, branded with a look of unutterable horror; those ashen lips, sunken, collapsed cheeks, glazing eyes, shuddering form, and trembling hands, he looked like a corpse galvanized for a moment, into a hideous semblance of life.
The words he had been about to say, died on the boy's lips; and, with distended mouth, and eyes all agape with surprise and fear, he stared at him in stupid bewilderment.
"Well?" came at length, from Courtney's lips, in a voice so hollow, that it seemed to issue from an empty coffin.
"What's the matter?" said the boy, "frightened by the storm?"
"What do you want?" again came in deep, husky tones from his livid lips.