THE VISION Down on the howling shore the great waves were hurling themselves in vast cataracts of snow-white surf that shone, dimly radiant, in the fitful moonlight.

The sky was covered with broken clouds, and a rising storm-wind blew in gusts along the cliffs.

The peace of the night was utterly shattered, the shining glory had departed.

A wild and desolate grandeur had succeeded it.
"Shouldn't wonder if there was some trouble tonight," said Adam, awaking to the tumult.
"Lor' bless you!" said Mrs.Peck sensibly.

"Wait till it comes." The hint of impatience that marked her speech was not without reason, for a gale was to Adam as the sound of a gun to a sporting-dog.