great waves flinging their mighty clouds of spray over its stark summit.
But--possibly because he viewed it from above instead of from below--he
saw naught beside that grand and futile struggle of the elements.

Reassured, he started in the rain and darkness down the twisting path
that led to his old home. He knew every foot of the way, but even so, he
stumbled once or twice in the gloom.

The roaring of the sea sounded terribly near when finally he reached the
little garden-gate and caught the ray of the lamp in the window.

Evidently it had awakened Rufus also. Almost unconsciously he quickened
his pace as he went up the path.

He reached the door and fumbled for the latch; but ere he found it, it
was flung open, and a strange and tragic figure met him on the
threshold.

"Ah!" cried a woman's voice. "It is you! Where--where is Rufus?"

Adam's keen and birdlike eyes nearly leapt from his head.
"Why--Columbine?" he said.

She was dressed in Rufus's suit of navy serge. It hung about her in
clumsy folds, and over her shoulders and about her snow-white throat her
glorious hair streamed like a black veil, still wet and shining in the
lamplight.

She flung out her hands to him in piteous appeal. "Oh, Adam!" she said.
"Have you seen them? Have you seen Rufus? He went--he went an hour