At length the cold winter sun rose over the watery waste, calm enoughnow, for the floods were out, in places ten and fifteen feet deep.Through the mists that brooded on the face of them Ramiro and his crewgroped their way back to where the Red Mill should be. It was gone!
There stood the brick walls of the bottom story rising above the floodlevel, but the wooden upper part had snapped before the first great wavewhen the bank went bodily, and afterwards been swept away by the rushingcurrent, swept away with those within.
"What is that?" said one of the boatmen, pointing to a dark object whichfloated among the tangled _debris_ of sere weeds and woodwork collectedagainst the base of the mill.
They rowed to the thing. It was the body of Father Thomas, who must havemissed his footing as he ran along the pathway, and fallen into deepwater.
"Um!" said Ramiro, "'a virgin's curse.' Observe, friends, how the merestcoincidences may give rise to superstition. Allow me," and, holding thedead man by one hand, he felt in his pockets with the other, till, witha smile of satisfaction, he found the purse containing the gold which hehad paid him on the previous evening.
"Oh! Elsa, Elsa," moaned Adrian.
"Comfort yourself, my son," said Ramiro as the boat put about, leavingthe dead Father Thomas bobbing up and down in the ripple; "you haveindeed lost a wife whose temper gave you little prospect of happiness,but at least I have your marriage papers duly signed and witnessed,and--you are her heir."
He did not add that he in turn was Adrian's. But Adrian thought of it,and even in the midst of his shame and misery wondered with a shiver howlong he who was Ramiro's next of kin was likely to adorn this world.
Till he had something that was worth inheriting, perhaps.