She followed this thought with perfect understanding, for allegory was a part of her racial inheritance. She was touched, also, by the soft timbre of his voice--a quality which showed him to be deeply moved--and she leaned farther forward, peering out at him. There was something weird, and something fascinating, about these impressive words issuing from an unseen and unexpected source. The night was so still and ghostlike--the atmosphere about the cottage so charged with tragedy--the metonymy this invisible speaker employed so subtle! "Whar's yoh gyard'ner?" she asked breathlessly. "I don't know," he gave a short laugh. "Well, he ain' so ve'y fur off, honey! Go an' seek 'im--you needs 'im, Gawd knows you does!--but mebbe he won' find sich a turr'ble lot of wu'k to do, arter all! Sometimes people's gyardens is cu'ious dat a-way!" He left after this, and walked slowly beyond the house to the circle of cedars. As he was pushing aside the branches, his eyes detected something white, out near the gate, moving through the deep shadows of the trees. He stopped, puzzled. A faint radiance from the stars made the spot where he stood quite discernible and, now seeing him, this white thing, whatever it was, changed its course and approached. As it came he saw that it seemed to be stumbling, or staggering, and he thought that it was moaning. Then suddenly he recognized Jane. In a bound he was across the intervening space and, as she stumbled again, caught her in his arms, crying hoarsely: "For God's sake, what has happened?" She clung to him, drooping, sobbing, and out of breath; and fiercely he held her closer, as though by the presence of his strength she might feel secure. "Mac," she gasped, convulsively, "Mac--is dead!" "How?" He asked it calmly; with a fearful, avenging calm; knowing that in the way Mac died would be revealed a tragedy. She tried, but could not answer, and simply leaned against him sobbing great silent sobs which shook her body and tore his soul with anguish. The love he had felt for her was slight to the passion now demanding utterance; yet his lips set resolutely to suppress any word of endearment. He knew that she had come only to a friend, a big brother, someone to sustain her, and he knew too well how deadly the suggestion of anything more would be. "Can't you tell me?" he asked gently. "That fiendish man jumped out and caught my horse's bridle! Mac sprang at him, and he dropped the bridle, and I tried to ride him down, but he had a club and knocked my poor horse flat;--I jumped up, and Mac was fighting him terribly, but I knew he would kill Mac--and then--and then--I was so frightened I ran as fast as I could back here!" "Thank God," he whispered, in a voice which must surely have told her how he, too, was suffering. She gathered her strength and stood more firmly, while he let his arms quietly fall to his sides. "Would you like Bob and Ann to come over?"