follow her through the darkness by the light of her hair, and of her
beauty. At this she turned on him, and said that there were others
beside him that would rue her hair and her beauty too. 'As he will,' she
hissed; 'for the hair remains though the beauty be gone. When he
withdrew the lynch-pin and sent us over the precipice into the torrent,
he had little thought of my beauty. Perhaps his beauty would be scarred
like mine were he whirled, as I was, among the rocks of the Visp, and
frozen on the ice pack in the drift of the river. But let him beware!
His time is coming!' and with a fierce gesture she flung open the door
and passed out into the night.

* * * * *

Later on that night, Mrs. Brent, who was but half-asleep, became
suddenly awake and spoke to her husband:

'Geoffrey, was not that the click of a lock somewhere below our window?'

But Geoffrey--though she thought that he, too, had started at the
noise--seemed sound asleep, and breathed heavily. Again Mrs. Brent
dozed; but this time awoke to the fact that her husband had arisen and
was partially dressed. He was deadly pale, and when the light of the
lamp which he had in his hand fell on his face, she was frightened at
the look in his eyes.

'What is it, Geoffrey? What dost thou?' she asked.

'Hush! little one,' he answered, in a strange, hoarse voice. 'Go to
sleep. I am restless, and wish to finish some work I left undone.'