"Do you hear the surf on the beach?"
I said, "Yes, I hear the surf."
"And what is it saying?"
I listened a moment, then answered,—
"It says, 'Woe! woe! woe!'"
She said, "Listen again."
While I was listening, she disappeared. But a moment afterwards I heard a voice speaking in the midst of the surfs roaring. It was just as plain and distinct as the minister's from the pulpit. It said, "Endure! endure! endure."
I might think that all this, even my seeing Margaret, was only a creation of my disordered mind, were it not for something happening afterwards which proved itself.
One evening, about twilight, I walked through the graveyard, and stood leaning against her tombstone. I soon knew that she was coming, for I heard the ringing sound in the air which always came before her. A moment after, she stood beside me. She placed her hand on my heart, and said, "Joseph, all is right here,"—then upon my forehead, and said, "But here all is wrong."
Then she told me there was a ship ready to sail from Boston, and that I must go in her,—said it troubled her that I wasted my life so. She gave me the name of the ship and of the captain, and told me when to go.