The headless horseman, the coach with the dead travellers, the
three pirates and their swaying gibbets, the ghost of St. Dreot's
churchyard, the Wailing Woman of Clinton, and many, many others, all
passed before her, making pale her cheek and sending her heart in
violent beats up and down the scale.
The kitchen grew darker and darker. She let the underclothes lie
upon her lap. Soon she must light the lamp, but meanwhile, before
the oven she let her fancies overwhelm her, luxuriating in her
terror.
Suddenly the kitchen-door was flung open. She started up with a cry.
Martin stood there and in a voice, so new to her that she seemed
never to have heard it before, he shouted, "Where's Maggie?"
She stood up in great agitation. He came towards her and she saw
that his face was violent with agitation, with a kind of rage.
"Where's Maggie?" he repeated.
She saw that he was shaking all over and it was as though he did not
know who she was.
"Maggie?" she repeated.
"My wife! My wife!" he cried, and he shouted it again as though he
were proclaiming some fact to the whole world.
"She went out," said Mrs.
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