eyes glistened. "By cock!" she exclaimed, "I would not be he." She was out of the room, without a farewell to her nephew, down the steps, away over the fiat to the seawall and her boat, her heart palpitating with anger.
It was late in the afternoon before Mrs. De Witt got back to Mersea. She ascended her ladder and unlocked the hatches. She looked about her. No George was on deck. She returned to the shore and renewed her enquiries. He had not been seen. No doubt he was still galivanting at the Ray. The uncertainty became unendurable. She jumped into her boat once more, and rowed to the island inhabited by Glory and her mother.
With her nose high in the air, her cap-frills quivering, she stepped out of the skiff. She had donned her military coat, to add to her imposing and threatening aspect.
The door of the house was open. She stood still and listened. She did not hear George's voice. She waited; she saw Mehalah moving in the room. Once the girl looked at her, but there was neither recognition nor lustre in her eyes. Mrs. De Witt made a motion towards her, but Glory did not move to meet her in return.
As she stepped over the threshold, Mrs. Sharland, who was seated by the fire, turned and observed her. The widow rose at once with a look of distress in her face, and advanced towards her, holding out her hand.
"Where is George?" asked Mrs. De Witt, ignoring the outstretched palm, in a hard, impatient tone.
"George!" echoed Mehalah, standing still, "George is dead."
"What nonsense!" said Mrs. De Witt, catching the girl by the shoulder and shaking her.
"I saw him. He is dead." She quivered like an aspen. The blood had ebbed behind her brown skin. Her eyes looked in Mrs. De Witt's face with a flash of agony in them.
"He came and looked in at the window at me, and cast me back the keepsake I had given him, and which he swore not to part with while life lasted."
"Dear sackalive!" exclaimed Mrs. De Witt; "the girl is dreaming or demented. What is the meaning of all this, Mistress Sharland?"
"Last night," explained the widow," as Mehalah was
