and with a groan that would
not be repressed, he covered his eyes to shut out the vision of the
despairing woman, whose doom seemed sealed. Her right hand which
unconsciously clutched his left shoulder, shivered like an aspen, and
he knew that for the moment she was entirely oblivious of his presence;
blind to everything but the assurance of her ruin.

After all, he had made no mistake; his keen insight was well nigh
infallible; but his triumph was costly. The luscious fruit of
professional success left an acrid flavor; the pungent dead sea ashes
sifted freely. He set his heel on the embroidered butterfly, and in his
heart cursed the hour he had first seen it. His coveted bread was
petrifying between his teeth.

The grasp on his shoulder relaxed, the hand fell heavily. When he
looked in the face of his victim, he caught his breath at the strange,
inexplicable change a few minutes had wrought. Protest and resistance
had come to an end. Surrender was printed on every feature. The wild
fury of the passionate struggle that convulsed her, had spent itself;
and as after a violent wintry tempest the gale subsides, and the snow
compassionately shrouds the scene, burning the dead sparrows, the
bruised flowers, so submission laid her cold touch on this quivering
face, and veiled and froze it.

From afar the sound of rushing waters seemed to smite Beryl's ears, to
surge nearer, to overflow her brain. She sank suddenly to the floor,
clinging with one hand to the window bar, and her auburn head fell
forward on the up-lifted arm. Thinking that she had fainted, Mr.
Dunbar stooped and raised her face, holding it in his palms. The eyes
met his, unflinching but mournful as those of a tormented deer whom the
hunters drag from worrying hounds. She writhed, freed herself from his
touch; and resting against the window sill, drew a long deep breath.

"You have succeeded in your mission today. You have the only clue you
needed. You have no occasion to linger. Now--will you leave me?"

He picked up the handkerchief.

"This is your handkerchief?"

She made no answer. A leaden hand was pressing upon her heart, her
brain, her aching eyes.

"You have basely deceived me. You did go back that night, and you left
this, to betray you. Saturated with chloroform you laid it over your
grandfather's face. Load your soul with no more falsehoods. Confess the
deeds of that awful night."

"I did not go back. I never saw 'Elm Bluff' after I met you.