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—BRENDON. On approaching the couch, they found Sir Rowland senseless, and extended over the dead body of his unfortunate sister. “I am off to-night,” he said. I have said good-bye to it all. ‘Brung the lantern, I did, and opened the door again in case you was ready. But though the breach was large enough to admit him below, he could not squeeze his bulky person through the aperture into the Red Room. He had changed her life dramatically, and she had missed him dreadfully. She had, by the magic of recollection, set the picture of the typhoon between herself and her table companions: the terrible rollers thundering on the white shore, the deafening bellow of the wind, the bending and snapping palms, the thatches of the native huts scattering inland, the blur of sand dust, and those two outcasts defying the elements.
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