his fiat and the law's had gone forth, that there was any way out of
what she had done, for her or for him, drove him to frenzy. And his
wretched son was far away; so he must vent the frenzy on her. The
melancholia, which religion had more or less restrained and comforted
during a troubled lifetime, became on this tragic night a wild-beast
impulse that must have its prey.

He rose suddenly and came towards her, his eyes glaring, and a burst of
invective on his white lips. Then he made a rush for a heavy stick that
leant against the wall.

She fled from him, reached her bedroom in safety, and bolted the door.
She heard him give a groan on the stairs, throw away the stick, and
descend again.

Then for nearly two hours there was absolute stillness once more in this
miserable house. Bessie had sunk, half-fainting, on a chair by the bed,
and lay there, her head lying against the pillow.

But in a very short time the blessed numbness was gone, and
consciousness became once more a torture, the medium of terrors not to
be borne. Isaac hated her--she would be taken from her children--she
felt Watson's grip upon her arm--she saw the jeering faces at the
village doors.

At times a wave of sheer bewilderment swept across her. How had it come
about that she was sitting there like this? Only two days before she had
been everybody's friend. Life had been perpetually gay and exciting. She
had had qualms indeed, moments of a quick anguish, before the scene in
the 'Spotted Deer.' But there had been always some thought to protect