"It is her child!" shrieked Rowland, in a voice heard above the howling of the tempest, "risen from this roaring abyss to torment me. What had urged her to wrench loose and fly was the guarding instinct of the good woman. She kept her eyes closed. How I could have been such a fool I’ll never know. Though not much passed the middle term of life, he seemed prematurely stricken with old age. “You are very kind,” she said hesitatingly, “but I don’t remember—I don’t think that I know you, do I?” “I am afraid that you do not,” he admitted, with a smile which he meant to be encouraging. Remain at the door, Nab," he added, loitering for a moment behind the others, "and let no one in, or out.
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