l filled with her wondrous
beauty as a lake with moonlight, her lips parted, and she started from
her chair, and, turning, I thought I saw a white face pressed against
the window, but as I looked it vanished. Then she drew her cloak about
her, and passed out. I slid back the bolt I always draw now, and stole
into the other room, and, taking down the lantern, held it above the
bed. But Muriel's eyes were closed as if in sleep."

_Extract from the sixth letter:_

"It is not the night I fear, but the day. I hate the sight of this woman
with whom I live, whom I call 'wife.' I shrink from the blow of her cold
lips, the curse of her stony eyes. She has seen, she has learnt; I feel
it, I know it. Yet she winds her arms around my neck, and calls me
sweetheart, and smooths my hair with her soft, false hands. We speak
mocking words of love to one another, but I know her cruel eyes are ever
following me. She is plotting her revenge, and I hate her, I hate her, I
hate her!"

_Part of the seventh letter:_

"This morning I went down to the fiord. I told her I should not be back
until the evening. She stood by the door watching me until we were mere
specks to one another, and a promontory of the mountain shut me from
view. Then, turning aside from the track, I made my way, running and
stumbling over the jagged ground, round to the other side of the
mountain, and began to climb again. It was slow, weary work. Often I had
to go miles out of my road to avoid a ravine, and twice I reached a high
point only to have to descend again. But at length I crossed the ridge,
and crept down to a spot from where, concealed, I could spy upon my own
house. She--my wife--stood by the flimsy bridge. A short hatchet, such
as butchers use, was in her hand. She leant against a pine trunk, with
her arm behind her, as one stands whose back aches with long stooping in
some cramped position; and even at that distance I could see the cruel
smile about her lips.

"Then I recrossed the ridge, and crawled down again, and, waiting until
evening, walked slowly up the path. As I came in view of the house she
saw me, and waved her handkerchief to me, and, in answer, I waved my
hat, and shouted curses at her that the wind whirled away into the
torrent. She met me with a kiss, and I breathed no hint to her that I
had seen. Let her devil's work remain undisturbed. Let it prove to me
what manner of thing this is that haunts