Imagination, coloured by the obscurity, peopled the air with phantoms. "I thought I heard a noise. She felt her chest trying to float up, but the blessed undertow, the dreaded reason why she was warned to never bathe in the ocean, sucked her feet down, putting the decision where it belonged, into the hands of God. Be this as it may, though a Catholic, he died a friend to the Protestant succession. It was a dark mysterious place, and what it was used for no one exactly knew; but it was called by those who had seen it the Well Hole. The afternoon had passed now into twilight.
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