We were heart-broken, we were in despair.

We sought signs and could find none.
The dead remained dead to us and no answer came to all our crying.
It was a sullen August evening, and after we had dined we walked upon the shore, listening to the slow surge of the waves and watching the lightning flicker from the bosom of a distant cloud.

In silence we walked, till at last Leo groaned--it was more of a sob than a groan--and clasped my arm.
"I can bear it no longer, Horace," he said--for so he called me now--"I am in torment.

The desire to see Ayesha once more saps my brain.

Without hope I shall go quite mad.