‘Annie, Annie, I’d do more than that for you!’ said Sebastian. He prayed her then to lie still—she had spoken beyond her strength. Anne obeyed, and till late in the day she did not speak again, then she spoke suddenly—half-wanderingly this time. ‘You’ll live long and happy, Sebastian,’ she said; ‘you’ll marry, my pretty man, and another woman but me, she’ll be the joyful mother o’ your sons.’ Then with no change in her voice, but as if she suddenly addressed a third person in the room, she continued: ‘And, God, you’ll avenge me on Dick Sundon? You understand how it’s been with me, an’ how ’tis impossible I should forgive him? And, Lord, have a care of Phil, and give him a white heart—my caring of him be past an’ done with now.’ There fell a long silence then, poor Anne having disposed of all her earthly cares. ‘Come, Sebastian,’ she cried, then quickly—with that awful chanting voice of the dying—and she held out her arms to him. But even as he bent down, Sebastian felt a long straining shiver pass through her, the sorrows of death compassed her, the pains of hell took hold upon her. He caught her to his heart for a moment, but a Stronger than he was drawing Anne away from his embrace. As their lips met she smiled a far-away dreamy smile. ‘Ha’ done, my man—ha’ done,’ she said; ‘no more of earth.’ * * * * * ‘I’ll bury Annie,’ said Sebastian, ‘and then I’ll kill Richard Meadowes.’ * * * * * It was in compliance with this resolution that Sebastian Shepley, a few days later, waited again upon Richard Meadowes. Meadowes sat writing at the table with his back to the door, but at the sound of its opening he turned round, and at sight of his visitor sprang up; the two men faced each other silently for a moment. Sebastian’s eyes from under their overhanging brows flashed like blue flames. ‘I called you a liar,’ he said, advancing up the room, ‘and for that mistake I crave your pardon; you spoke truth, and now I am come to fight you for the truth you spoke.’ ‘Fight with you, you damned surgeon! you son of a village leech! I fight with gentlemen!’ said Meadowes scornfully. ‘And I with men, so if you are one you had best show it,’ retorted Shepley; and he drew the sword that hung at his side with a drawing rattle from its sheath. There was not much question then between them of rank. They fought with savage hatred on either side; but from the first the fortunes of the fight followed Sebastian. The whole had been ended, and ended with it there would also have been the larger half of this story, if an unaccountable impulse had not moved Sebastian Shepley to mercy. Something, perhaps, of the futility of revenge, now that Anne was dead and could never know of it, came to him of a sudden, and stayed his hand. ‘There,’ he said. ‘You have your life at my hand, for all it may be worth.’ And he turned away as if to leave the house.