Just as the attendants were preparing to lower the corpse into the earth, Jack fell on his knees beside the coffin, uttering the wildest exclamations of grief, reproaching himself with the murder of his mother, and invoking the vengeance of Heaven on his own head. "I've been wondering, until this morning, if you were real. Don’t think it was anything better than fever—or a bit beautiful. She turned a resolute face southward. He is here by your side. Recognising the handwriting, he glanced swiftly at the signature, and uttering an explosive curse, cast the paper from him. ‘You’ve found her out?’ ‘Tell us at once,’ urged Miss Froxfield. But the stone was slippery; and the tide, which here began to feel the influence of the fall, was running with frightful velocity. To make Ruth pay for it! He wanted to get away, into some immense echoless tract where he could give vent to this wild laughter which tore at his vitals.
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