And rising, Mohun bade the singular personage farewell, and went toward his horse. I followed, and we rode back, rapidly, in dead silence, toward the Rowanty. XII. HOW THE MOMENT AT LAST CAME. Mohun rode on for more than a mile at full gallop, without uttering a word. Then he turned his head, and said, with a sigh:-- “Well, what do you think of your new acquaintance, Surry?” “I think she is an impostor.” “As to her visions, you mean?” “Yes. Her story of Darke I believe to be true.” “And I know it,” returned Mohun. “A strange discovery, is it not? I went there to-day, without dreaming of this. Nighthawk informed me that Swartz had often been at the house of this woman--that the paper which I wish to secure might have been left with her for safe keeping--and thus I determined to go and ferret out the matter, in a personal interview. I have done so, pretty thoroughly, and it seems plain that she knows nothing of its present whereabouts. Will she discover through her visions--her spies--or her strange penetration, exhibited in the recognition of our persons? I know not; and so that matter ends. I have failed, and yet have learned some singular facts. Can you believe that strange story of Darke? Is he not a weird personage? This narrative we have just heard puts the finishing touch to his picture--the murderer marries the daughter of his victim!” “It is truly an extraordinary history altogether,” I said, “and the whole life of this man is now known to me, with a single exception.” “Ah! you mean--?” “The period when you fought with him, and ran him through the body, and threw him into that grave, from which Swartz afterward rescued him on the morning of the 13th December, 1856.” Mohun looked at me with that clear and penetrating glance which characterized him. “Ah! you know that!” he said. “I could not fail to know it, Mohun.” “True--and to think that all this time you have, perhaps, regarded me as a criminal, Surry! But I am one--that is I was--in intent if not in reality. Yes, my dear friend,” Mohun added, with a deep sigh, his head sinking upon his breast, “there was a day in my life when I was insane, a simple madman,--and on that day I attempted to commit murder, and suicide! You have strangely come to catch many glimpses of those past horrors. On the Rappahannock the words of that woman must have startled you. In the Wilderness my colloquy with the spy revealed more. Lastly, the words of Darke on the night of Swartz’s murder must have terribly complicated me in this issue of horrors. I knew that you must know much, and I did not shrink before you, Surry! Do you know why? Because I have repented, friend! and thank God! my evil passions did not result, as I intended, in murder and self-destruction!” Mohun passed his hand across his forehead, to wipe away the drops of cold perspiration.