Wild sensations tossed, surged in him, as he staggered along without knowing where he went, as if all that was evil in him had risen, overpowered him, and was holding carousal, and high festival. He would go down to Annie, the siren who had ruined him, and seize her in her beauty, and tear her limb from limb--he could have laughed and sung at the prospect of his vengeance, and felt inclined to rush or to dance along the streets. He would go down to the river--ah! to the river-side--and drink with some old companions before he went on to her; he would be merry, would be warm and bright enough before he started on his dark walk through the night. The streets were strange .... the red sky on his left hand, on which were the darkness, the innumerable points of light .... the few lamps at intervals on the other side of the way .... the black dog whom he pushed with his feet, and who started off into the road. He went down the hill .... he would get to the river-side, though his brain was whirling as in delirium ... he could see Annie, hear her, could grasp her with his hands, although he was certain that she was miles away. He went always onwards .... no one saw him in the darkness .... the red lights were dancing, as if they laughed at him. Is it possible that there are mysterious communications of which we in our ignorance are not aware, electric forces that can reach from distant places, and summon us by unconscious magnetism? Annie did not know, never realised what happened; but she remembered afterwards that she found herself forced to leave her bed, that she rose from where they had laid her, slipped by her sleeping watchers, and passed through the cottage, and out into the night. It seemed to her that her lover’s voice was calling, that his arms were stretching out to her from far away, that she was summoned to protect him from some immediate danger, from which only her presence could save him. She passed through the sleeping village, and crossed the railway lines, and found herself by the river, on the path leading to the town, with the lights of the city before her on the hill and in the valley, and the river flowing in pale course through the night. She could remember these things afterwards, but not what she had thought, except that her mind was delirious, feverish, that she was haunted by some agony that she would be too late, and kept crying out that the distance was long, and that she was too weak to run. And yet the lights became closer by degrees--she could see them burning beneath the bridge that crossed the water--could see the lamps at intervals on the other side of the river, and the quivering streams of light that ran down into the depths. At her side were the foundry-buildings .... and there, beneath the foundry arch, and the lamp that hung in it, was a black, strange swarm of men .... she could hear their voices, which came confusedly through the noise of the rush of the lock, and the silence of the night ....