“’For nine weeks did I try to force my passage against the elements round the stormy Cape, but without success; and I swore terribly.  For nine weeks more did I carry sail against the adverse winds and currents, and yet could gain no ground; and then I blasphemed,—­ay, terribly blasphemed.  Yet still I persevered.  The crew, worn out with long fatigue, would have had me return to the Table Bay; but I refused; nay, more, I became a murderer,—­unintentionally, it is true, but still a murderer.  The pilot opposed me, and persuaded the men to bind me, and in the excess of my fury, when he took me by the collar, I struck at him; he reeled; and, with the sudden lurch of the vessel, he fell overboard, and sank.  Even this fearful death did not restrain me; and I swore by the fragment of the Holy Cross, preserved in that relic now hanging round your neck, that I would gain my point in defiance of storm and seas, of lightning, of heaven, or of hell, even if I should beat about until the Day of Judgment.

“’My oath was registered in thunder, and in streams of sulphurous fire.  The hurricane burst upon the ship, the canvas flew away in ribbons; mountains of seas swept over us, and in the centre of a deep o’erhanging cloud, which shrouded all in utter darkness, were written in letters of livid flame, these words—­until the day of judgment.

“’Listen to me, Catherine, my time is short. One Hope alone remains, and for this am I permitted to come here.  Take this letter.’  He put a sealed paper on the table.  ’Read it, Catherine, dear, and try if you can assist me.  Read it and now farewell—­my time is come.’

“Again the window and window-shutters burst open—­again the light was extinguished, and the form of my husband was, as it were, wafted in the dark expanse.  I started up and followed him with outstretched arms and frantic screams as he sailed through the window;—­my glaring eyes beheld his form borne away like lightning on the wings of the wild gale, till it was lost as a speck of light, and then it disappeared.  Again the windows closed, the light burned, and I was left alone!

“Heaven, have mercy!  My brain!—­my brain!—­Philip!—­Philip!” shrieked the poor woman; “don’t leave me—­don’t—­don’t—­pray don’t!”

During these exclamations the frantic widow had raised herself from the bed, and, at the last, had fallen into the arms of her son.  She remained there some minutes without motion.  After a time Philip felt alarmed at her long quiescence; he laid her gently down upon the bed, and as he did so her head fell back—­her eyes were turned—­the widow Vanderdecken was no more.

Chapter II

Philip Vanderdecken, strong as he was in mental courage, was almost paralysed by the shock when he discovered that his mother’s spirit had fled; and for some time he remained by the side of the bed with his eyes fixed upon the corpse, and his mind in a state of vacuity.  Gradually he recovered himself; he rose, smoothed down the pillow, closed her eyelids, and then clasping his hands, the tears trickled down his manly cheeks.  He impressed a solemn kiss upon the pale white forehead of the departed, and drew the curtains round the bed.