Sitting near the front roofline, it was a two-story affair and had a roof of its own. Supported by columns, the cupola’s second-story roof also boasted a full railing. A ladder led from the first floor of the cupola to the second. The reason for it being two stories tall was simple enough, Garrett realized; the taller the widow’s walk, the more expansive the view. He was tempted to climb up and look out over the harbor, but given the overall poor condition he wisely decided against it.

What was it like, he wondered, to be a whaler’s wife living in this big house? Would she come up here to scan the ships as they entered the harbor? If so, he couldn’t imagine her doing it without the aid of a spyglass. It must have been difficult to live by oneself for so long, wondering whether your husband would ever return to you.

Just then he detected an elegant scent, just like a woman’s perfume, carried to him on the ocean breeze. And then, as soon as he had sensed it, it was gone. Smiling to himself, he shook his head. It must have been something else, he realized, for he was quite alone up here.

His inspection of the cupola finished, Garrett returned to the first-floor parlor. It was late, and time for him to go. He decided he would leave his rather crude floor plans here for the time being. And then, just as he was about to go from room to room and turn off the lanterns, he heard the noise again.

It sounded exactly like someone crying, just as it had when he had slept here before the fireplace. But this time, he could not dismiss it to his sleepiness. This time he was wide-awake, and hearing it with complete clarity.

Unsure of what to do, he finally began quietly walking down the hall toward the rear of the house. As he went, he looked in turn into the parlor, the sewing room, the library, and the dining room, only to find each of them vacant. Continuing on, he passed through the serving room and then the butler’s pantry, also finding nothing. But when he at last approached the open kitchen door and looked in, Garrett saw something that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

He saw her—the same woman he had dreamed about only the night before. There could be no mistake, and seeing her so suddenly and unexpectedly like this caused his heart to race, and his breathing to become labored.

But she had yet to see him, he quickly realized. Like in his dream, she was sitting all alone in a leftover chair and sobbing uncontrollably. Later on, he would decide that it was because she had been so taken up with her crying that she had not immediately recognized his presence. Although she was dressed in different clothing than in Garrett’s dream, he knew immediately that it was she.

This night she wore modern clothes—a pair of jeans, what appeared to be a man’s shirt with its sleeves rolled up, and a pair of sneakers. Her hair was not artfully arranged atop her head but fell down about her shoulders, and like in Garrett’s dream she wore the scrimshaw locket around her neck. As she sat there crying, her entire being shook with grief and fear.

Stunned beyond words, Garrett simply stood there in the kitchen doorway for a few moments, watching her. When he at last found his voice, even then he was unsure about what to say.

“Hello . . . ?” he asked softly.

As if with a single motion, the woman dropped her hands from her face, looked at Garrett with terror, and then let go a piercing scream. It was a plaintive shriek that seemed to go right through him, and was one that he would never forget.

Garrett quickly raised his hands in a pleading gesture.

“It’s okay!” he said. “I won’t hurt you—I only want to know who you are, and why you’re here! Do you need help?”

No sooner had the words left Garrett’s mouth than the terrified woman sprang from her chair, ran to the kitchen door, and threw it open so hard against the wall that its glass panel shattered. Almost before Garrett knew it, she was running off into the darkness as if her very life depended upon it.

Garrett’s first impulse was to catch up to her. But then he realized that he still did not know these grounds well, and that it would be foolish to go chasing after her in the dark. Although it would offer no security, he shut the broken kitchen door and locked it.

He walked over to the chair that the woman had just vacated, and he sat down in it dumbly.