caught her dagger in her hand, and strode out upon her
victim.

The light which hung from the branch of the tree shone upon the
arbor. The back-ground was gloomy in the dense shadow, while the
intervening space was illumined. Hilda took a few quick paces,
clutching her dagger, and in a moment she reached the place. But in
that instant she beheld a sight which sent through her a pang of
sudden horror--so sharp, so intense, and accompanied by so dread a
fear, that she seemed to turn to stone as she gazed.

It was a slender figure, clothed in white, with a white mantle
gathered close about the throat, and flowing down. The face was
white, and in this dim light, defined against the dark back-ground of
trees, it seemed like the face of the dead. The eyes--large,
lustrous, burning--were fixed on her, and seemed filled with
consuming fire as they fastened themselves on her. The dark hair hung
down in vast voluminous folds, and by its contrast added to the
marble whiteness of that face. And that face! It was a face which was
never absent from her thoughts, a face which haunted her dreams--the
face of her victim--the face of Zillah!

[Illustration: "She Beheld A Sight Which Sent Through Her A Pang Of
Horror."]

Hilda had only one thought, and that was this, that the sea had given
up its dead, and that her victim had come to confront her now; in the
hour of vengeance to stand between her and another victim. It was but
for an instant that she stood, yet in that instant a thousand
thoughts swept through her mind. But for an instant; and then, with a
loud, piercing shriek, she leaped back, and with a thrill of mortal
terror plunged into the thick wood and fled afar--fled with the
feeling that the avenger was following fast after her.

The shriek roused Lord Chetwynde. He rushed back. Zillah had fainted,
and was lying senseless on the grass. He raised her in his arms, and
held her pressed convulsively to his heart, looking with unutterable
longing upon her pale face, and pressing his burning lips to her cold
brow. There was a great terror in his heart, for he could not think
what it might be that had happened, and he feared that some sudden
alarm had done this. Bitterly he reproached himself for so agitating
her. He had excited her with his despair; and she, in her agitation,
had become an easy prey to any sudden fear. Something had happened,
he could not tell what, but he feared that he had been to some extent
the cause,