Iv.] THE WITCHES’ ISLAND. 185

 

us whether we are cheerful or wretched. Then Molly
looked into the little side room in which she and her
husband were wont sometimes to sit when the nets
were drying in the kitchen, and which was full of the
various implements appertaining to the craft of a
fisherman. It was untenanted, however, by human
being, and her search through the rooms upstairs was
equally. fruitless. Then she rushed out again on to
the beach and down to the sea calling ‘John! John!’
at the top of her voice. But no John replied, and
the wind and waves seemed to mock at her as the
one howled round her head and the other crashed
upon the beach before her. The full conviction of
the truth of the Turbot’s story flashed across her
mind, and, regardless alike of wind and wave, Molly
Goodchild threw herself down upon the beach and
burst into a fit of sobbing and crying as if her heart
would break.

I do not know how long she would have con-
. tinued this pleasant occupation, if she had not been
sufficiently sensible to be aware that it could do her
no possible good, and would in no way contribute to
bring back her lost husband. That he was lost she
had no. longer the smallest doubt, and she greatly
feared that he had been taken from her in the manner
related by the laughing fish. What, then, could she
do? Timid as she was in all things concerning the
supernatural, yet her love for her husband was stronger
than even her fear of the witches, and if anyone would
point out to her the way to proceed, she felt that she
had within her the courage to do and dare everything
to regain her lost one,