"For he, too, was determined to bring no harm upon his family. Like myself he would not go to them, though he was too proud, and too far gone, to conceal himself as I did. I could not convince him to follow me to the hiding place, and I could not force him. I believe now that he must have spent those last nights in wandering and delirium, waiting for the chance to perform his final deed. But unstable as his mind had become, the heart beneath remained intact. And there were moments of perfect lucidity, as when he looked up from the ravine, and saw you. "He fled from your mother not in fear, but to protect her, and yourself." He released a deep breath. "The Stone, and the words of the spell, were impotent but for the power you gave them. The mind creates worlds of its own, every bit as tangible, and every bit as dangerous, as the physical reality we all share. Give up your common sense, your right to question, and you become a helpless lamb among the wolves of this world." "Yes," said Mary. "Now it all seems so clear. The trunk filled with charms, the talismans to drive away your spirit, the spell my mother believes she cast over Stephen Purceville: all but the fabric of illusion, given substance by the wholly independent actions of men. I, too, have no more need of such miracles." "But," said Michael firmly. "Though the shadows of evil fade in the light of day, the evil itself does not. The Purcevilles, both young and old, are still very much to be feared." Nineteen As if in answer to his words, the thunder of hoofbeats came suddenly to their ears, approaching unexpectedly (for the British fortress lay in the opposite direction) from the west. The widow Scott, who had felt the danger growing as the day wore on, was the first to react. She was up and out of her chair, and pulling back on the carpet before her son had a chance to stand clear. "Michael, quickly!" And she forced her trembling hands to find the latch, and pull open the trap door. "Michael, quickly!" And she forced her trembling hands to find the latch, and pull open the trap door. Michael moved toward the opening, then turned to say a last word to his betrothed. But by chance his eyes lighted on her portrait, and for the first time he saw the bullet-hole at her throat. In horror he thought of Stephen Purceville, and in a flash read between the lines of what the women had (and had not) told him. And even as his mother tried to urge him down the steps, he reached out and took his lover by the wrist. "Mary, too! Until we're sure!" She nodded gratefully, not wanting to be parted from him, and the two descended. "Remember my words," the widow whispered through the crack, before sealing them in darkness. "You must be willing to sacrifice me. No arguments!"