Next day he met Jack at the entrance to the works, but he gave him such a look of hatred that he stepped aside and he passed without a word.

Jack was quite unconscious of having done anything to merit such treatment, but by degrees, as he reviewed the incidents of the past few weeks, a light broke upon him;—­he saw it all.  They were rivals.

From that time all intercourse ceased between the two who had been deemed inseparable.  This gave rise to many remarks from their acquaintances, not a few of whom guessed the cause.

Susy seemed quite unconcerned, and smiled as sweetly as ever.  Dick furtively watched her, and the more he looked, the stronger grew his mad infatuation and the deeper became his determination to be revenged.

He never again intruded himself on Susy’s dinner hour, but he knew that Jack took every opportunity of seeing her, and the work that he should have done during the time the machine was standing, he had to hurry over when it was in motion.  It was a hazardous work;—­a single slip might lead to a certain and horrible death.  But he was experienced and cautious, and he felt no fear.

The fire of revenge, always smouldering, was almost daily fanned into flame by real or fancied causes.

Jack went calmly on his way.  He regretted the break in their friendship, but he could not resign Susy.  He hoped all things would come out right at last.

A day came, when, as the engine began to set in motion the innumerable shafts and wheels and pulleys, which in turn transmitted their mighty strength over the hundreds of looms,—­Dick stood at the end of the row of machines that were under his charge.  His eyes had a strange light in them and his face was unnaturally pale, and his hands wandered unmeaningly over the loom nearest him.

A scream reverberated through the shed, above all the clatter of shuttles and whirr of wheels, and was repeated again, and again.  There was a rush towards one point.  The mighty engine stopped with a groan, and all the wheels were motionless.  All the workers had deserted their posts,—­nay,—­not all.  Dick stood shivering, grasping an iron bar for support.

Susy, stood confronting him.  The look in her wonderful eyes was one that he had never before seen.  No word was spoken.  She passed on to join the throng, and Dick followed like one in a dream.

“Poor Jack!” “poor lad!” was heard on every hand.  The crowd divided, and four strong men bore the battered and bleeding form into the private office.  Dick saw it,—­he followed close behind it.  Outside the very sunshine seemed red.  He seemed to awake from a dream.  There was his friend,—­the friend he had loved,—­nay,—­more,—­the friend he did love still.  And he? what was he?  A murderer: 

No one had accused him;—­no one even suspected him.  Yes there was one.  Her eyes still seemed to glare at him with their mute accusation.

What did he care?  She had caused it all.  He inwardly cursed her; and cursing her loved her more madly than ever.  There was no revenge in his breast now.