Occasionally he would lean back and stare at the window which gave upon the sea. Certain it was, that the slightest sound aroused him. Surely it was a dream. "It is her child!" shrieked Rowland, in a voice heard above the howling of the tempest, "risen from this roaring abyss to torment me. Twelve years, then, have elapsed since the date of the occurrences detailed in the preceding division of this history. "To be lonely! What is physical torture, if someone who loves you is nigh? But to be alone … as I am!… yes, and as you are! Oh, you haven't told me, but I can see with half an eye.
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