western sky lit up the front of his deserted dwelling in the
distance, abreast of which the windings of the inlet had
unwittingly led him. As he looked he started, and involuntarily
dropped into a crouching attitude. For, to his superstitious
terror, the sealed windows of his old home were open, the bright
panes were glittering with the fading light, and on the outer
gallery the familiar figure of his sister stood, as of old,
awaiting his return! Was he really going mad, or had this last
vision of his former youth been purposely vouchsafed him?

But, even as he gazed, the appearance of another figure in the
landscape beyond the house proved the reality of his vision, and as
suddenly distracted him from all else. For it was the apparition
of a man on horseback approaching the house from the upland; and
even at that distance he recognized its well-known outlines. It
was Calvert! Calvert the traitor! Calvert, the man whom he had
long suspected as being the secret lover and destined husband of
Cicely Preston! Calvert, who had deceived him with his calm
equanimity and his affected preference for Maggie, to conceal his
deliberate understanding with Cicely. What was he doing here? Was
he a double traitor, and now trying to deceive HER--as he had him?
And Maggie here! This sudden return--this preconcerted meeting.
It was infamy!

For a moment he remained stupefied, and then, with a mechanical
instinct, plunged his head and face in the lazy-flowing water, and
then once again rose cool and collected. The half-mad distraction
of his previous resolve had given way to another, more deliberate,
but not less desperate determination. He knew now WHY he came
there--WHY he had brought his gun--why his boat had stopped when it