As he sat there waiting,--as so many were now waiting,--others came and went. Anne Watson crossed the big road before sitting down to the card-table, and stood for a moment at the door, talking in a low tone to some one whom Lynn could not see. But her husband's wistful, restless, compelling gaze followed her, drawing her back, and she did not linger. Nothing, not even her grateful affection for Miss Judy, could hold her long away from her post; nothing, save death alone, could ever free her from it. And even after death--! What then? Always, Anne Watson was asking herself that question; never was she able so to answer it that her soul was set at rest. She now went slowly and sadly to her place at the card-table, and she did not leave it again that day. But Lynn Gordon, keeping his vigil, saw her strange, mystical gaze wander many times from the burning stake to which she was bound,--a hopeless, tortured captive for life,--to the shadowed peace of the window behind his head. Ah, the inscrutableness of those strange eyes. The eyes of Anne Watson were the eyes of a fanatic, yet none the less the eyes of a martyr. He glanced now and then at the people who were coming and going so stilly and so sadly through the little broken gate. All gave him a friendly nod in passing, no matter whether they knew him or not, for that was the kind custom of the country. But no one stopped to speak to him; all appeared to be too deeply absorbed in their own sad thoughts. Only Kitty Mills smiled at him, and she did not know that she smiled, for her light heart was heavy enough that day. But she never had known what it was to have her eyes meet other eyes without smiling; and her merry brown ones smiled now of themselves without her knowledge, through mere force of habit. They had been sad indeed an instant before, and her round ruddy cheeks were drawn and pale, and bore traces of tears. She had been tirelessly running back and forth between her own house and Miss Judy's, coming and going more often than any one else, as often, in truth, as she found herself momentarily released from her father-in-law's ceaseless clamor for attention, and as his querulous summons recalled her to her perpetual bondage. His shrill, imperious cry now suddenly made itself distinctly heard through the reigning stillness; through that awesome stillness which reigns wherever death is expected; that stillness which awes all, save the very young, who feel too far away to be afraid, and the very old, who are come too near to heed the awe.