"Oh, what shall I do--what shall I do--" she groaned in her helplessness. The dog's frantic struggles were proving too much for her strength, for she had to hold him with one hand; the other was on his windpipe. She knew 'Lias would soon be coming home; he could hear the sheep from the road, as she already heard the subdued bay of the hound and the muffled bark of the collie, shut--thanks to Mrs. Caukins' premonition of what might happen--within four walls. She looked about her--a strip of her white skirt lay on the ground--_Could she--?_ "No, Rag darling--no, I can't, I can't--" she began to cry. Through her tears she saw something sticking up from the hoof-trampled earth near the strip of cotton--a knife-- She was obliged to take her hand from the dog's throat in order to pick it up--there was one joyous bark.... "O Rag, forgive me--forgive!" she cried under her breath, sobbing as if her heart would break. * * * * * She picked up the piece of skirt, and fled with the knife in her hand--over the wall, over the pastures, that seemed lighter beneath the rising stars, down the highroad into the glare of an arc-light. She looked at the instrument of death as she ran; it was a banana knife such as Luigi used continually in his shop. She crossed the bridge, dropped the knife over the guard into the rushing Rothel; re-crossed the bridge and, throwing back the wings of the Scotch plaid cape she wore, examined in the full light of the powerful terminal lamp her hands, dress, waist, cuffs.--There was evidence. She took off her cape, wrapped it over head and shoulders, folded it close over both arms, and went back to the house. She heard carriages coming up the road to The Gore. Mrs. Caukins, in a quivering state of excitement, called to her from the back porch: "Come out here, Aileen; 'Lias hasn't got back yet--the sheep are making the most awful noise; something's the matter over there, you may depend--and I can see lights, can you?" "Yes," she answered unsteadily. "I saw them a few minutes ago. I didn't stay with Ellen, but went up the road a piece, for my head was aching too, and I thought a little air would do me good--and I believe I got frightened seeing the lights--I heard the sheep too--it's dreadful to think what it means." Mrs. Caukins turned and looked at her sharply; the light from the kitchen shone out on the porch. "Well, I must say you look as if you'd seen a ghost; you're all of a shiver; you'd better go in and warm you and take a hot water bag up to bed with you; it's going to be a frosty night. I'm going to stay here till 'Lias comes back. I'm thankful the twins are abed and asleep, or I should have three of you on my hands. Just as soon as 'Lias gets back, I'm going into my room to lie down--I can't sleep, but if I stay up on my feet another hour I shall collapse with my nerves and my head; you can do what you've a mind to."