When she came back, Cicely said, "Now for the north point;" she led the way along the road; their footsteps made crunching sounds in the sand. Cicely said, "I was in hopes that the moon would come out from behind those clouds. Oh, I'm so glad! there it is! Now it will light up the very spot where you shot him. I will leave the lamp here on the sand; that will give the yellow gleam that we saw behind us. Now go into the woods. Then, in a few moments, you must come out and look about, just as you did then, and you must put out your hand and make a motion of shooting." "I will not," said Eve, outraged. "I shall leave you and go back." Cicely saw that she had come to the end of her power. She put her arms round Eve's neck, and held her closely. "To please me, Eve; I shall never be content without it; I want to see how it all was, how you looked. Just this once, Eve; never again, but just this once." "I thought you had forgiven me, Cicely?" "I have, I have." She kissed Eve again. "_Do_ content me." Eve went slowly towards the trees. As she disappeared within the shadow, Cicely instantly concealed herself on the other side of the road. There was a silence. The moon, emerging still further from the clouds, now silvered the forest, the path, and the sound with its clear light; there was no boat drawn up at the point's end; the beach sloped smoothly to the water, unbroken by any dark outline, and the water stretched smoothly towards Singleton Island, with only the track of the moon across it. Eve stood in the shadow under the trees. The spell of the place was upon her; like a somnambulist, she felt herself forced by some inward compelling power to go through the whole scene. The thought of Cicely had passed from her mind; there was but one person there now--Ferdie; in another moment she should see him; she listened; then she went forward to the edge of the wood and looked down the road. Something came rushing from the other side, and with quick force bore her to the ground. Not Ferdie, but Cicely, like a tigress, was upon her, her hands at her throat. In a strange suffocated voice, she cried, "Do you like it? Do you like it? Do you _like_ to be dead?" And Eve did not struggle; she lay motionless in Cicely's grasp--motionless under the weight of her body keeping her down. The thing did not seem to her at all incredible; suddenly it seemed like a remedy for all her troubles--if Cicely's grasp should tighten. Passively she closed her eyes.