CHAPTER III.
TELLS OF TWO STRANGE MEN THAT WATCHED THE SEA UPON POLKIMBRA BEACH.
Morning came at last, and with the first grey light the storm had spent its fury.

By degrees my mother had grown calmer, and was now sleeping peacefully upon her bed, worn out with the passion of her terror.

I had long ago dressed; but even had I wished to sleep again, curiosity to know the meaning of that awful cry would have been too strong for me.

So, as soon as I saw that my mother was asleep, I took my boots in my hand and crept downstairs.

The kitchen looked so ghostly in the dim light, that I had almost resolved to give up my plan and go back, but reflected that it behoved me to play the man, if only to be able to cheer mother when I came back.
So, albeit with my heart in my mouth, I drew back the bolt--that surely, for all my care, never creaked so loudly before or since--and stepped out into the cool air.