I cannot tell how it was, but to-night many ghostly stories that I had
read about piers came to my mind. For instance, now, how easy it would
be for any man to steal up to me through the thick, soft, shadowy mist,
and murder me before I had time even to utter a cry, I might be thrown
over into the sea.

Then I said to myself, what a foolish thought! I was close to many
people, such a murder was quite impossible. Yet I was foolish enough to
turn my head and try to peer through the darkness to see if any one was
near.

The tall, slender figure of a woman dressed in a dark cloak was slowly
walking up the middle of the pier. She could not see me, but I saw
her--plainly, distinctly. I noticed the grace of her movements, her
grand carriage. She was closely veiled, so that I could not see her
face. But, unless I was much mistaken, she carried a bundle of something
held tightly under her arm.




CHAPTER II.


If this had been an ordinary woman, I should not have noticed her,
beyond the passing regard of the moment; it was the grace of her walk
that attracted my attention, and I felt sure that as she passed my by I
heard the sound of bitter passionate sobbing.

The old story over again, I thought--sorrow and pain, longing and love!