She knows, Winnie, that the
life of the man who should dig up that corpse would not be worth an
hour's purchase; she knows, Winnie, that in the court of conscience
she alone is answerable now for what may befall; and you are safe!
But poor mother! My poor dear mother, whom once I loved so dearly,
was it indeed you I struggled with just now? Mother, mother, was it
you?'
This interview retarded my recovery, and I had a serious relapse.
The fever was a severe one. The symptoms were aggravated by these
most painful and trying interviews with my mother, and by my
increasing anxiety about the fate of Winifred. Yet my vigorous
constitution began to show signs of conquering. Of Winifred I could
learn nothing, save what could be gleaned from the servants in
attendance, who seemed merely to have heard that Tom Wynne was
missing, that he had probably fallen drunk over the cliff and been
washed out to sea, and that his daughter was seeking him everywhere.
As the days passed by, however, and no hint reached me that the
corpse had been found on the sands, I concluded that, when the larger
mass finally settled on the night of the landslip, the corpse had
fallen immediately beneath it, and was buried under the main mass.
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