There was no light in Kate's window. She must be in the
dining-room with her uncle--or--or--on the pier--with whom? He flung
himself on the sand. All the old despair of the night of thunder, of
the moonlight ramble, of the last walk together, revived. He dug with
his fingers into the sand; and just so the horrible pain was digging,
like a live creature with claws, into his heart. But Kate was indeed
sitting quietly with her uncle, while he lay there on the sea-shore.
Time passes quickly in any torment--merciful provision. Suddenly
something cold seemed to grasp him by the feet. He started and rose.
Like a wild beast in the night, the tide had crept up upon him. A
horror seized him, as if the ocean were indeed a slimy monster that
sought to devour him where he lay alone and wretched. He sprang up the
sand before him, and, sliding back at every step, gained the top with
difficulty, and ran across the _links_ towards the city. The exercise
pumped the blood more rapidly through his brain, and before he reached
home hope had begun to dawn. He ascended the garret-stairs, and again
knocked at Mr Cupples's door.
"Come in," reached his ear in a strange dull tone.
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