'Yes,' said the widow; 'he has just breathed his last. Can I be of any service to you, Margaret, by staying here? If I can--' 'Oh no,' replied Cross, quickly; 'there is no use, we won't trouble Mrs. Brown.' 'Well, then, I will be going, as it is getting late in the evening.' So wishing them good-night, she quietly stepped from the door, walked slowly a few paces, and then hurried along with as much speed as the darkness would permit. No sooner did Cross perceive that the widow was gone, than his countenance assumed an aspect of the fiercest rage. 'How is this?'--clenching his fist, and shaking it near to the head of the trembling, wretched female--'how is this? How came that old canting hypocrite here?' 'Ned begged me to go for her: he said he could not die in peace until he saw her.' 'Die in peace!' and he stamped his foot with rage--'die in peace! and did not I charge you, by your life, to let no human being see him in his reason, but myself?' And saying this, he caught her by the hair, and dashed her with his utmost power to the floor. She arose, without uttering a word or groan, upon her knees; she caught him by the arm; he endeavoured to thrust her from him, but her hold was the grasp of despair; at once he drew a poniard, that he always carried in a concealed case at his side; she saw it glitter as he held it up in the act of plunging it to her heart. 'Oh mercy, mercy! for God's sake--for the sake of him who calls you father, don't kill me! Remember all I have suffered for you--the mother of your only child, though you have never owned me. Have not I always done your bidding? lost my soul and body for you?' Pity, or some other motive, unnerved his arm--he could not just then do the deed; but hurling her from him, threw her to the other side of the cabin, like a reptile that he hated. In an instant she was on her feet--a rifle was in her hand, and it was pointed in deadly aim at her vile oppressor. The gun Cross had not noticed--it always stood loaded; for Margaret (or Meg as she was called) lived alone, and in that wild place had learned how to use it. He had no idea that the poor worm he had so long trodden upon could ever turn against him; but when he beheld her eyes glaring with fury, and the deadly weapon levelled at his breast, his blood curdled at his heart. He made a step towards her. 'One step more, and you are dead!' 'Put that down, Meg; I don't want to hurt you.' The poor craven now began to cower, and thought that a few soft words would obliterate a life of abuse, carried to a point where woman's love turns to the direst hate.