Thyra could not sleep that night . When the gale came shrieking up the river , and struck the house , she got out of bed and dressed herself . The wind screamed like a ravening beast at her window . All night she wandered to and fro in the house , going from room to room , now wringing her hands with loud outcries , now praying below her breath with white lips , now listening in dumb misery to the fury of the storm . The wind raged all the next day ; but spent itself in the following night , and the second morning was calm and fair . The eastern sky was a great arc of crystal , smitten through with auroral crimsonings . Thyra , looking from her kitchen window , saw a group of men on the bridge . They were talking to Carl White , with looks and gestures directed towards the Carewe house . She went out and down to them . None of these who saw her white , rigid face that day ever forgot the sight . `` You have news for me , '' she said . They looked at each other , each man mutely imploring his neighbor to speak . `` You need not fear to tell me , '' said Thyra calmly . `` I know what you have come to say . My son is drowned . '' `` We do n't know THAT , Mrs. Carewe , '' said Abel Blair quickly . `` We have n't got the worst to tell you -- there 's hope yet . But Joe Raymond 's boat was found last night , stranded bottom up , on the Blue Point sand shore , forty miles down the coast . '' `` Do n't look like that , Thyra , '' said Carl White pityingly . `` They may have escaped -- they may have been picked up . ''
Thyra looked at him XXXXX dull eyes .
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