for himself in
his old age, the thought seemed as if it would break my heart: and now
I knew he had an enemy, and a pitiless enemy: and I tried to stop him
goin' out alone with Pierre, and I wanted him to get rid o' him out of
the fishing business altogether, and father he took it up so, when I
told him Pierre said he was gettin' too old to manage for hisself, that
he up and dismissed him that very day: and then I heard Lisette Nevin
and Paul talkin' and savin' how ill Pierre had taken it, and I seemed to
see his face with the evil look on it; and something seemed to say in my
heart that Daddy was in danger, and I couldn't stop a moment; I went
flying to the cove where I knew he'd gone by hisself, and there from the
top of the path I saw the other one creeping, closer and closer, like a
cruel beast of prey as he was: and I went down and I met him, and he'd a
knife in his belt, and of one thing I was certain, he might have been
only goin' to frighten Daddy, but he meant him no good."

She lowered her voice, and spoke in a hoarse whisper.

"Father, do you understand? Here was a man without ruth or pity, and
with a sore grudge in his black heart. Was I to trust my Daddy to his
hands, and him old and lame?" She paused another moment, then drew the
Vicar close to her and whispered in his ear, "I cut the rope. I knew he
was followin' me. I let myself halfway down, then clung to the iron hold
and cut the rope, with the knife I'd taken from him. It was at the risk
of my life I did it. And he followed me, and he fell and was killed.
Father, will God punish me for it? It has blighted my life. I have
never been like other women. I never was wed, for how could I tend
little children with blood on my hands? And the children shrank from me,
or I thought they did. But it was for Daddy's sake. He had a happy old
age, and he gave me his blessing when he died. Father"--her voice became
almost inaudible--"when I stand before God's throne--will God
remember--it was for Daddy's sake?"

The failing eye was fixed on the pastor's face, as if it would search
his soul for the truth. The fellow-being, on whom she laid so great a
burden, for one moment, quailed: then spoke assuring words of the mercy
of that God to whom all hearts are open: but already the ebbing
strength, too severely strained in the effort of disclosure, was passing
away, and the words of comfort were spoken to ears that were closed in
death.

* * *