Maltravers,--I know thee: but it is not thou who hast locked me up in
darkness and in hell, side by side with the mocking fiend! Friends! ah,
but no Friends shall catch me now! I am free! I am free! Air and wave
are not more free!" And the madman laughed with horrible glee. "She is
fair--fair," he said, abruptly checking himself, and with a changed
voice, "but not so fair as the Dead. Faithless that thou art--and yet
she loved _thee_! Woe to thee! woe! Maltravers, the perfidious! Woe to
thee--and remorse--and shame!"

"Fear not, Evelyn,--fear not," whispered Maltravers, gently, and placing
her behind him; "support your courage,--nothing shall harm you."

Evelyn, though very pale, and trembling from head to foot, retained her
senses. Maltravers advanced towards the mad man. But no sooner did the
quick eye of the last perceive the movement, than, with the fear which
belongs to that dread disease,--the fear of losing liberty,--he turned,
and with a loud cry fled into the wood. Maltravers leaped over the
fence, and pursued him some way in vain. The thick copses of the wood
snatched every trace of the fugitive from his eye.

Breathless and exhausted, Maltravers returned to the spot where he had
left Evelyn. As he reached it, he saw Teresa and her husband approaching
towards him, and Teresa's merry laugh sounded clear and musical in the
racy air. The sound appalled him; he hastened his steps to Evelyn.

"Say nothing of what we have seen to Madame de Montaigne, I beseech you,"
said he; "I will explain why hereafter."

Evelyn, too overcome to speak, nodded her acquiescence. They joined the
De Montaignes, and Maltravers took the Frenchman aside.