"It is the tide-bell," said Mr. St. George, stiffly; and, with the word, the previous midnight rose as if by incantation, and she kept her eyes on the ground. Yet, as they walked, it seemed to Eloise that her quickened senses detected a hidden rustle and murmur, as if the distant morasses, the neighboring thickets, were alive. She seemed to be aware of soft and stealthy soundless foot-falls; shadowy forms, she would have said, were gliding around them in the night. Cold terror made her heart stand still. Suddenly all these fears condensed into shape,--two flaming eyeballs glared in the copse,--a shock, a flash, a smell of powder, just as she had seized Mr. St. George's arm and snatched him back. Then the boughs crashed, and the dark shade went leaping away. Terror died in Eloise's heart. Intrepid rage possessed her. She sprang forward, still holding him back with the continued gesture of the light hand on his arm, and gazed over the bushes, the very incarnation of splendid fearlessness and defiance. Mr. St. George laughed. "Is there nothing that excites your indignation?" she cried. "Could you not have throttled him?" "A flash in the pan," said he, coolly. "However, it might have been worse. It has blown a breeze through my _sombrero_,"--taking off the hat, which the ball had partly twisted around. "It was meant for Marlboro', Miss Changarnier. I am in his place to-night, you see. You have misled the rascals. Listen!" he murmured, in a lower tone, beside her. "There is a freemasonry among these black devils,--doubtless the tide-bell signals some secret meeting. They are all about us. Here! you are the last person to be seen. Take this, and hurry on while I wait; you can walk fast. Go!" And the handle of a knife, a great broad blade, produced from some hidden sheath, was between her fingers. But Eloise did not stir. "Go!" he repeated, in the same smothered murmur. "Place you in such danger? Leave you so?" said Eloise. "Never!" "Do as I bid you!" he replied, in a tone as full of cold, unsuppressed bitterness as a north wind, motioning her away, and moving back.