second view only confirmed the vision of the first. His worst fears
were realised; his Mary was dead!

Mechanically he walked to the tree; there was a paper fastened to it
upon which was some writing in the hand of the baron. He read it:--

MARY DURDEN.

THE STORM AVAILED HER NAUGHT.

Impatiently he snatched it down, and tearing it into a hundred
fragments, cast them down upon the ground, and slowly turning on his
heels, he walked homewards, utterly dejected and cast down, and with a
bitter heart. The last tie which bound him to Haddon was now severed,
and he longed to get away.

In melancholy silence he dug a grave in the little garden behind
his lowly cottage, and then, with all the coolness which is lent by
desperation, he proceeded again to where the body was hanging, and cut
it down. He had brought another paper with him, and this he affixed in
exactly the same place as the one he had destroyed. It was laconical
enough, for it had but one word, and that was

REVENGE!

He laid the body in the grave, and put some plants upon the top, and
then, after watering them with the tears which copiously ran down his
cheeks, he turned his back on Haddon, and started for Nottingham with
few regrets, leaving behind him little enough to love, and much to be
revenged.