more. That I merited all I endured, I acknowledged—that I could scarcely endure more, I pleaded; and the alpha and omega of my heart's wishes broke involuntarily from my lips, in the words—"Jane! Jane! Jane!"
"Did you speak these words aloud?"
"I did, Jane. If any listener had heard me, he would have thought me mad: I pronounced them with such frantic energy."
"And it was last Monday night: somewhere near midnight?"
"Yes; but the time is of no consequence: what followed is the strange point. You will think me superstitious—some superstition I have in my blood, and always had: nevertheless, this is true—true at least it is that I heard what I now relate.
"As I exclaimed 'Jane! Jane! Jane!' a voice—I cannot tell whence the voice came, but I know whose voice it was—replied, 'I am coming: wait for me!' and a moment after, went whispering on the wind, the words—'Where are you?'
"I'll tell you, if I can, the idea, the picture these words opened to my mind: yet it is difficult to express what I want to express. Ferndean is buried, as you see, in a heavy wood, where sound falls dull, and dies un-
