'Yes; something was left undone there this afternoon at the funeral, and I must go at once. But why do you look so alarmed?'
'Oh, don't go into the old church to-night,' said Winifred.
I stood and looked at her, puzzled and strangely disturbed.
'Henry,' said she, 'I know you will think me very foolish, but I have not yet got over the fright that shriek gave me, the shriek we both heard the moment before the landslip. That shriek was not a noise made by the rending of trees, Henry. No, no; we both know better than that, Henry.'
I gave a start; for, try as I would, I had not really succeeded in persuading myself that what I had heard was anything but a human voice in terror or in pain.
'What do you think the noise was, then?' said I.
'I don't know; but I know what I felt as it came shuddering along the sand, and then went wailing over the sea.'
'What did you feel, Winnie?'
'My heart stood still, for it seemed to me to be the call from the grave.'
'The call from the grave! and pray what is that? I feel how sadly my education has been neglected.'