ide was full and round about it, so they
retired upon the hillside, sheltering in a little plantation of fir
through which they could see the stars, and Doom dense black against
them without a sign of habitation.

And yet Doom, upon the side that faced the sea, was not asleep. Mungo
was busy upon the preparations for departure, performing them in a
funereal spirit, whimpering about the vacant rooms with a grief that was
trivial compared with that of Doom itself, who waited for the dawn as
if it were to bring him to the block, or of Olivia, whose pillow was
wet with unavailing tears. It was their last night in Doom. At daybreak
Mungo was to convey them to the harbour, where they should embark upon
the vessel that was to bear them to the lowlands. It seemed as if the
sea-gulls came earlier than usual to wheel and cry about the rock,
half-guessing that it was so soon to be untenanted, and finally, as it
is to-day, the grass-grown mound of memories. Olivia rose and went
to her window to look out at them, and saw them as yet but vague grey
floating shapes slanting against the paling stars.

And then the household rose; the boat nodded to the leeward of the rock,
with its mast stepped, its sail billowing with a rustle in the faint
air, and Mungo at the sheet. The dawn came slowly, but fast enough for
the departing, and the landward portion of the rock was still in shadow
when Olivia stepped forth with a tear-stained face and a trembling hand
on Victor's arm. He shared her sorrow, but was proud and happy too that
her trials, as he hoped, were over. They took their seat in the boat and
waited for the Baron. Now the tide was down, the last of it running in
tiny rivulets upon the sand between the mainland and the rock, and Simon
and his gang came over silently. Simon led, and turned the corner of the
tower hastily with his sword in his hand to find the Baron emerging.
He had not seen the boat and its occupants, but the situation seemed to
flash upon him, and he uttered a cry of rage.

Doom drew back under the frowning eyebrow of what had been his home,
tugged the weapon from his scabbard, and threw himself on guard.

"This is kind, indeed," he said in a pause of his assailant's confusion
at finding this was not the man he sought. "You have come to say
'Goodbye.' On guard, black dog, on guard!"

"_So dhuit maat!_--here then is for you," cried Sim, and waving back his
followers, engaged with a rasp of steel. It lasted but a mom