Read Online The Loving Spirit by Daphne du Maurier - Free Book Online

to the wind, and move away like a silent phantom across the face of the sea. Something tore at her heart to be gone too.
    As the months slowly passed this feeling became stronger and more vital, not a day passed when Janet did not find some moment or other for making her way to the cliffs, and turning her head to the wind and listening to the sound of the sea. More than ever in her life she felt the urge and the desire to use her strength and to move swiftly, then she looked at her ugly misshapen body and bowed her head in her hands for shame that she had been born a woman.
    Her nerves, usually calm and unruffled, were jagged and on edge.
    The house seemed empty to her, she found no peace within its walls - it gave her nothing. She was short with Thomas and hasty with the children, they were all part of the chain that bound her to Plyn. Back to the cliffs she would roam, restless and miserable, searching for what was not; frightened at solitude yet craving it withal - her soul as sick as her body, and alone.
    So the summer months drew into autumn, the early mornings were chill and drowned in a white mist, while at nights came the sharp frosts, heralding the approach of winter. Truan woods and the trees round Plyn were a riot of colour, and then the first leaves fell, shivering, rustling, a pale covering for the earth.The seaweed broke away from the rocks, and floated dull and heavy on the surface of the water. The rich brown and yellow autumn flowers became sodden with the soft autumn rain, and drooped their heads upon lean stalks.
    Harvest was gathered in, the apples stripped from the orchards and stored in the dark lofts.
    The birds seemed to have vanished with the summer sun, only the everlasting gulls remained, wheeling and diving for fish in the harbour, the long-necked solitary shag, and the stout busy little puffins.The river was silent, save for the whisper of the trees when the leaves dropped to the ground, and the weird mournful cry of the curlew as he stood at low tide on the mud banks, searching for food.
    Dusk came early, soon after six o’clock, and the people of Plyn closed their doors and their windows against the cold damp mist, leaving the night to wrap its shrouded blanket about their sheltered homes, heedless of the weeping sky and the lonely baleful owls.
    So the last week of October drew to a close.
    The damp still weather changed of a sudden one afternoon, great purple clouds gathered from the south-west, and a low ugly line ran along the sea’s horizon. With the turn of the tide the strong wind changed to a gale, and descended with all its force upon Plyn.
    High mountainous seas broke against the rocks at the harbour mouth, and swept their way inside the entrance. The spray came up over the Castle ruins, and the water rose above the level of the town quay, flooding the ground floor of the cottages grouped there on the cobbled square.
    The men shut their women folk inside their houses, and made their way to the harbour slip, to see to the safety of their boats. It was the last day of October, ‘All Hallowe’en’, and usually a beacon was lit on this night, and the custom followed of feeding it at midnight with driftwood, and then proceeding through the town, but tonight this was abandoned - for no one would venture forth into such a gale unless on duty bound.
    Thomas Coombe was down at the yard, watching the rising tide with apprehension and longing for the turn, when no more damage could be done. At Ivy House the children were put to bed and already asleep in spite of the howling wind. Janet had laid the supper and was awaiting Thomas’s return.
    The rain had now ceased, only the wind and the sea shouted in unison. Every leaf was scattered, and the broken branches swung in the trees, creaking and shaking like the rattle of a ship’s shroud. Something was dashed against the window and fell, sending Janet’s hand to her side with the shock of the sound. She opened the window to see, and saw the