for the love he bore his father; but he heaved up the sword, and plunged
it in the heart of the appearance; and the appearance cried out aloud
with the voice of his father; and fell to the ground; and a little
bloodless white thing fled from the room.

The cry rang in Jack's ears, and his soul was darkened; but now rage came
to him. "I have done what I dare not think upon," said he. "I will go
to an end with it, or perish. And when I get home, I pray God this may
be a dream, and I may find my father dancing."

So he went on after the bloodless thing that had escaped; and in the way
he met the appearance of his mother, and she wept. "What have you done?"
she cried. "What is this that you have done? Oh, come home (where you
may be by bedtime) ere you do more ill to me and mine; for it is enough
to smite my brother and your father."

"Dear mother, it is not these that I have smitten," said Jack; "it was
but the enchanter in their shape. And even if I had, it would not prove
that a man should wear a gyve on his right leg."

And at this the appearance gobbled like a turkey.

He never knew how he did that; but he swung the sword on the one side,
and clove the appearance through the midst; and it cried out aloud with
the voice of his mother; and fell to the ground; and with the fall of it,
the house was gone from over Jack's head, and he stood alone in the
woods, and the gyve was loosened from his leg.

"Well," said he, "the enchanter is now dead, and the fetter gone." But
the cries rang in his soul, and the day was like night to him. "This has
been a sore business," said he. "Let me get forth out of the wood, and
see the good that I have done to others."

He thought to leave the fetter where it lay, but when he turned to go,
his mind was otherwise. So he stooped and put the gyve in his bosom; and
the rough iron galled him as he went, and his bosom bled.

Now when he was forth of the wood upon the highway, he met folk returning
from the field; and those he met had no fetter on the right leg, but,
behold! they had one upon the left. Jack asked them what it signified;
and they said, "that was the new wear, for the old was found to be a
superstition". Then he looked at them nearly; and there was a new ulcer
on the left ankle, and the old one on the right was not yet healed.

"Now, may God forgive me!" cried Jack. "I would I were well home."

And when he was home, there lay his uncle smitten on the head, and