He had pointed confusedly out to sea.

‘Ay, Mas’r Davy. I doen’t rightly know how ‘tis, but from over yon there seemed to me to come — the end of it like,’ looking at me as if he were waking, but with the same determined face.

‘What end?’ I asked, possessed by my former fear.

‘I doen’t know, ’he said, thoughtfully; ‘I was calling to mind that the beginning of it all did take place here — and then the end come.

But it’s gone! Mas’r Davy,’ he added; answering, as I think, my look; ‘you han’t no call to be afeerd of me: but I’m kiender muddled; I don’t fare to feel no matters,’ — which was