And presently, as I went upon my way, I forgot the old man sleeping so peacefully with the rusty staple clasped to his shrunken breast, and thought only of the proud woman who had given her life into my keeping, and who, henceforth, would walk with me, hand in hand, upon this Broad Highway, over rough places, and smooth—­even unto the end.  So I strode on, full of a deep and abiding joy, and with heart that throbbed and hands that trembled because I knew that she watched and waited for my coming.

A sound broke upon the stillness—­sudden and sharp—­like the snapping of a stick.  I stopped and glanced about me—­but it had come and gone—­lost in the all-pervading calm.

And presently, reaching the leafy path that led steeply down into the Hollow, I paused a moment to look about me and to listen again; but the deep silence was all unbroken, save for the slumberous song of the brook, that stole up to me from the shadows, and I wondered idly what that sudden sound might have been.  So I began to descend this leafy path, and went on to meet that which lay waiting for me in the shadows.

It was dark here among the trees, for the moon was low as yet, but, every now and then, she sent a kindly ray through some opening amid the leaves, so that as I descended the path I seemed to be wading through small, limpid pools of radiance.

But all at once I stopped—­staring at something which lay at the edge of one of these pools—­a white claw—­a hand whose fingers, talon-like, had sunk deep and embedded themselves in the turf.  And, beyond this gleaming hand, was an arm, and beyond that again, something that bulked across my path, darker than the shadows.

Running forward, I stood looking down at that which lay at my feet—­so very still; and stooped suddenly, and turned it over that I might see the face; and, seeing it, started back in shuddering horror.  For, in those features—­hideous with blood, stained and blackened with powder, I recognized my cousin—­Sir Maurice Vibart.  Then, remembering the stick that had snapped, I wondered no more, but a sudden deadly faintness came upon me so, that I leaned weakly against a tree near by.

A rustling of leaves—­a shuddering breath, and, though I did not raise my head, I knew that Charmian was there.

“Oh, Peter!” she whispered, “oh, Peter!” and that was all, but, moved by something in her tone, I glanced up.  Her eyes were wide and staring—­not at me, but at that which lay between us—­her face was pallid; even her lips had lost their color, and she clasped one hand upon her bosom—­the other was hidden in the folds of her gown hidden as I remembered to have seen it once before, but now it struck me with a horrible significance.  Wherefore I reached out and caught that hidden hand, and drew the weapon from her nerveless fingers, holding it where the light could play upon it.  She started, shivered violently, and covered her eyes, while I, looking down at the pistol in my hand, saw that it had lately been discharged.