'
'But, mother, the body of her father lies beneath the _debris_ on the
shore; the ebbing tide may leave it exposed, and the poor girl,
missing her father in the morning, will seek him perhaps on the shore
and find him--find him with the proof of his crime on his breast, and
know that she inherits the curse--my father's curse! Oh, think of
_that_, mother--think of it. And you only can prevent it.'
For a few moments there was intense silence in the room. I saw that
my mother was reflecting. At last she said:
'You say that Wynne's daughter told you something to-night. Where did
you see her?'
'On the sands.'
'At what hour?'
'At--at--at--about eleven, or twelve, or one o'clock.'
I felt that I was getting into a net, but was too ill to know what I
was doing. My mother paused for awhile; I waited as the prisoner
tried for his life waits when the jury have retired to consult. I
clutched the bedclothes to stay the trembling of my limbs. On a chair
by my bedside was my watch, which had been stopped by the sea-water.
I saw her take it up mechanically, look at it, and lay it down again.
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