The Weir was full two miles above the spot to which the young men had repaired to watch the storm.

No search had been made up here, for the tide had been running strongly down, at that time of the night of Christmas Eve, and the likeliest places for the discovery of a body, if a fatal accident had happened under such circumstances, all lay--both when the tide ebbed, and when it flowed again--between that spot and the sea.

The water came over the Weir, with its usual sound on a cold starlight night, and little could be seen of it; yet Mr.
Crisparkle had a strange idea that something unusual hung about the place.
He reasoned with himself: What was it?
Where was it?
Put it to the proof.

Which sense did it address?
No sense reported anything unusual there.

He listened again, and his sense of hearing again checked the water coming over the Weir, with its usual sound on a cold starlight night.
Knowing very well that the mystery with which his mind was occupied, might of itself give the place this haunted air, he strained those hawk's eyes of his for the correction of his sight.