“I may follow my husband when he goes hunting.” Dan, with a curse, lifted up his great fist, struck her in the face, and bent over her as she lay half-stunned by the blow. XXXV Dan dragged Bess up by the wrist, and, seeing that she was dazed and faint, let her lean for a moment against a tree. The girl had been half stunned by the blow he had given her; blood was trickling from her mouth, her head drooping upon her bosom. Dan, who was biting his nails and looking the creature of fury and indecision, turned on her at last, and, taking her by the cloak, dragged her back along the path. Bess had no spirit left in her for the moment. Faint, dizzy, and unable to think, she was yet conscious of the fact that she was utterly at her husband’s mercy. Dan dragged her along roughly, cursing her when she stumbled, and shifting his grip from her cloak to her arm. She felt his fingers bruising the flesh as he gripped the muscles, grinding his teeth and shaking her now and again as though she were a child. Dan brought his wife to the Monk’s Grave again. From afar they saw the light of the lantern blinking through the forest, for Isaac had relit it and was standing on guard with his gun at full-cock. Dan gave a shout as he dragged Bess through the undergrowth, careless of how the boughs and briers smote and scratched her face. Isaac came limping up the glade towards them, the lantern in one hand, the gun in the other. “Who be it, Dan?” he asked. Dan laughed and held the girl out at arm’s-length towards his father. Isaac lifted the lantern. The light flashed upon Bess’s face with its wild and shadowy eyes and bleeding mouth. “Bess!” “A pretty trick she’s been playing us, father.” “Odds my life, how much have you seen, wench—how much have you seen?” He set the lantern down, seized Bess by the bosom of her gown, and shook her. “Speak, you she-dog, what were you spying on us for?” Bess shivered and her lips twitched. “I followed Dan,” she said. “The deuce—you did!” “I saw him throw the money out.” She broke suddenly into half-hysterical laughter, the mirthless and uncontrollable laughter of one unnerved by shock. Isaac threw her back from him so roughly that she reeled and staggered against Dan. Bess felt her husband’s hands over her bosom, gripping her so that she stood with her back to him and could not move. Isaac was limping to and fro before them, handling his gun, flashing now and again a fierce look at Bess. For the moment she understood but vaguely what was passing in the old man’s mind. Isaac faced them suddenly, his eyes glinting from a net-work of wrinkles. “Stand aside, lad,” he said, his fingers contracting about the stock of the gun. Bess felt Dan’s arms tighten about her body. “What be ye thinking of, father?” he asked. “Stand aside.”