All at once, far in the distance, I saw a long, silvery, glistening wave breaking over them.

It came nearer and nearer--just a succession of little white waves like those that break on the sandshore sometimes.

The Glen was being swallowed up.

I thought, 'Surely the waves will not come near Ingleside'-- but they came nearer and nearer--so rapidly--before I could move or call they were breaking right at my feet--and everything was gone--there was nothing but a waste of stormy water where the Glen had been.

I tried to draw back--and I saw that the edge of my dress was wet with blood--and I woke--shivering.