The evening bells were ringing faintly and mournfully in a church across the harbor . Behind me , in the kitchen , I heard my wife singing . Sometimes now her spirits were fitfully high , and then she would sing the old songs of her girlhood . But even in her singing was something strange , as if a wailing , unearthly cry rang through it . Nothing about her was sadder than that strange singing . When I went back to the house the rain was beginning to fall ; but there was no wind or sound in the air -- only that dismal stillness , as if the world were holding its breath in expectation of a calamity . Josie was standing by the window , looking out and listening . I tried to induce her to go to bed , but she only shook her head . `` I might fall asleep and not hear him when he called , '' she said . `` I am always afraid to sleep now , for fear he should call and his mother fail to hear him . '' Knowing it was of no use to entreat , I sat down by the table and tried to read . Three hours passed on . When the clock struck midnight she started up , with the wild light in her sunken blue eyes . `` He is calling , '' she cried , `` calling out there in the storm . Yes , yes , sweet , I am coming ! '' She opened the door and fled down the path to the shore . I snatched a lantern from the wall , lighted it , and followed . It was the blackest night I was ever out in , dark with the very darkness of death . The rain fell thickly and heavily . I overtook Josie , caught her hand , and stumbled along in her wake , for she went with the speed and recklessness of a distraught woman .
We moved in the little flitting circle of light shed XXXXX the lantern .
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