What my eyes looked upon my reason refused to credit. Turning from the hand-gate of the plantation, without a hat, and with a wealth of golden hair streaming down upon a swan's-down cloak, was--Maud! It was impossible--it was ridiculous--it was beyond all credence. And yet my straining, riveted eyes watched her walk slowly, with her usual stately, even tread, down the grass-grown path between the plantation and the hedge of the cottage garden, and disappear from sight. Though an earthquake had yawned at my feet I could not have moved. Nothing but sound can break up such a spell as this sudden shock had laid upon me. And the sound came, for suddenly there broke upon the stillness of the night such a cry as I had never heard before--the thrilling, agonised shriek of a woman in mortal fear. CHAPTER XXV "COUSINS!" Like the shock from a galvanic battery did that sound breathe life into my frozen limbs. Holding a chair before my face I literally burst through the high French windows, crashing the glass and splintering the framework into a thousand pieces. With the cry of a wild beast I dashed across the lawn and leaped over the privet hedge. Maud, my Maud, was scarcely a dozen yards from me, struggling in the grasp of the man who had come to rob me of his confession, with his great hand pressed against her wild, beautiful face to stop her cries. They heard me coming, and he half released her, and with his other hand pointed a revolver at me. But passion must have lent me wings, for before he could pull the trigger I had dashed it into the air, where it exploded harmlessly, and with my clenched fist I struck him such a blow as I had never struck before or since. He was a powerful man, with a thick, bullet-shaped head, but he went down like a log, and well-nigh never rose again. His companion, without a word, turned and ran across the park like a hare, and I let him go. Maud was in my arms, sobbing hysterically, Maud with the moon shining down on her blanched but exquisite face, and her white arms thrown around my neck. If she were the daughter of a prince of hell she was still the woman I loved; and I stooped and covered her cold face and lips with passionate kisses. Then I caught her up in my arms, for she was shivering, and ran with her to the house. Every one had been roused by the sound of my exit, and the report of the revolver. Marian, with her dressing-gown loosely wrapped around her, was standing trembling at the head of the stairs, and behind her were the servants more frightened even than she. When she saw me cross the hall with Maud's lifeless form (for her faint seemed almost the faint of death) in my arms, she gave vent to one cry of blank amazement and horror, and then hurried down to us. "Hugh, Hugh," she whispered, clinging to me as I laid my burden down on the sofa, and fell on my knees by its side. "Maud here! Maud out in the park at this time of night! What has happened, Hugh? What does it all mean?"