Beautiful young eyes sparkled and shone . From the pavilion outside came the lilt of the fiddle and the rhythmic steps of the dancers . There was a little disturbance among a group of boys crowded about the door ; a young fellow pushed through and halted on the threshold , looking about him rather sombrely . It was Jack Elliott from over-harbour -- a McGill medical student , a quiet chap not much addicted to social doings . He had been invited to the party but had not been expected to come since he had to go to Charlottetown that day and could not be back until late . Yet here he was -- and he carried a folded paper in his hand . Gertrude Oliver looked at him from her corner and shivered again . She had enjoyed the party herself , after all , for she had foregathered with a Charlottetown acquaintance who , being a stranger and much older than most of the guests , felt himself rather out of it , and had been glad to fall in with this clever girl who could talk of world doings and outside events with the zest and vigour of a man . In the pleasure of his society she had forgotten some of her misgivings of the day . Now they suddenly returned to her . What news did Jack Elliott bring ? Lines from an old poem flashed unbidden into her mind -- `` there was a sound of revelry by night '' -- `` Hush ! Hark ! A deep sound strikes like a rising knell '' -- why should she think of that now ? Why did n't Jack Elliott speak -- if he had anything to tell ? Why did he just stand there , glowering importantly ? `` Ask him -- ask him , '' she said feverishly to Allan Daly . But somebody else had already asked him . The room grew very silent all at once . Outside the fiddler had stopped for a rest and there was silence there too .
Afar off they heard the low moan of the gulf -- the presage XXXXX a storm already on its way up the Atlantic .
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