Page:Further Chronicles of Avonlea (1920).djvu/128

100 above us was a horrible, voiceless darkness, held, as it were, at bay by the friendly light.

“If I could only overtake him once,” moaned Josie. “If I could just kiss him once, and hold him close against my aching heart. This pain, that never leaves me, would leave me then. Oh, my pretty boy, wait for mother! I am coming to you. Listen, David; he cries — he cries so pitifully; listen! Can’t you hear it?”

I did hear it! Clear and distinct, out of the deadly still darkness before us, came a faint, wailing cry. What was it? Was I, too, going mad, or was there something out there — something that cried and moaned — longing for human love, yet ever retreating from human footsteps? I am not a superstitious man; but my nerve had been shaken by my long trial, and I was weaker than I thought. Terror took possession of me — terror unnameable. I trembled in every limb; clammy perspiration oozed from my forehead; I was possessed by a wild impulse to turn and flee — anywhere, away from that unearthly cry. But Josephine’s cold hand gripped mine firmly, and led me on. That strange cry still rang in my ears. But it did not recede; it sounded clearer and stronger; it was a wail, but a loud, insistent wail; it was nearer — nearer; it was in the darkness just bevond us.

Then we came to it; a little dory had been beached