It was a ghastly journey to the old mine shaft, the heavy form of the dead man sagging between them. They dared have no light, and went stumbling over tussocks and ruts; but as both would have known the way blindfold, they found the shaft without difficulty. They scrambled up the sloping rubble of stones and tipped the body over the jagged hole in the side of the shaft, and after what seemed an interminable silence there came a thud from several hundred feet below them, then another, as though the body had rebounded, then all was stillness. Vashti leant up against the side of the shaft, as she had leant when James kissed her there, and shut her eyes; the sweat running down her brow had matted her lashes together into thick points, and the drops tickled her neck so that she put up her hand to it. Both she and the man were drawing the deep, hoarse breaths of exhaustion, and for a few minutes they rested in silence--then he spoke. "You must be comin' back along o' me now," he told her, "the dawn'll be showin' soon." "Yes, yes," cried Vashti, starting up, "us may meet some one going to bal, sure 'nough." "'Tes all right--I've got t'mask on. Come." He closed his fingers over her arm so harshly that she winced, and together they made their way back in the cold, bleak hush that preceded the autumnal dawn. Gradually, as they went, some glimmerings of what her life would be henceforth appeared to the woman. The fear of neighbours, the efforts to appear neutral, the memory of that slowly opening door, and the still thing by the fender, the consciousness of what lay at the bottom of the disused shaft; and, above all, the terrible reminder of her husband in the masked Willie--it would be like living with a ghost. . . . Once back at the cottage, he drew her within and let the door swing to behind them. She moved away to find a light, but he caught her. "Won't 'ee give me so much as a kiss, and me with red hands because of you?" he asked. She felt the mask brush her cheek, and broke away with a cry. She heard him laugh as she lit a candle, and turned towards him. "A black bridal!" he cried wildly; "did you think 'twas a black bridal? 'Tes a red one, do 'ee hear?" "Willie," she begged him, "take off t'mask now we'm alone." "Aren't 'ee afeared?" he asked. "'Tes safe enough till mornin', and I do hate that mask more'n the devil. Take 'en off." "I'll take 'en off--to please you, lass." He seized the mask violently by the hem and ripped it away--and she saw it was her husband.