"It is her child!" shrieked Rowland, in a voice heard above the howling of the tempest, "risen from this roaring abyss to torment me. “Is that so? Who says?” He demanded, his eyebrows arching as he looked at her with puerile glee. Ann Veronica hesitated with a question that had leaped up in her mind, and that she felt was cruel. "God forgive me for using such a word!" he cried, in a troubled tone; "if I hadn't yielded to my wife's silly request, this wouldn't have happened!" CHAPTER VII. Two hours had come and gone during this tantalizing occupation. As soon, however, as the last solemn rites were over, and the remains of the unfortunate woman committed to their final resting-place in Willesden churchyard, his firmness completely deserted him, and he sank beneath the weight of his affliction.
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