"Master, he is coming back; David's coming home again, sir. He's going to make it all right with Swanhilda--he means to marry her!" Gloam did not stir; but as Jael watched him narrowly, she fancied that his limbs and body slowly stiffened, until they became quite rigid; only his head had a slight shivering motion. The woman shrank back a step, with a feeling of alarm. It seemed a long while before Gloam spoke, and the same slight, involuntary shiver pervaded his voice. He still kept his face carefully averted. "David coming back?" "Yes, sir; I had a message from him this morning." "To ... marry her!" "Yes, indeed, sir; he'll make an honest woman of her. What he has done has laid heavy on his conscience ever since. And so he says he hopes you'll forgive and forget, and that we'll all prosper and be happy in the future." Gloam's chest began to heave, and he folded his arms tightly across it. There was another long pause, as though he feared to trust his voice to speak. Finally the words came between his shut teeth: "When--when--when?" "Did you mean, when will he be here, sir? Well, he was expecting to reach the next town late this afternoon; and from there he'd foot it over here; and that wouldn't bring him here till nigh midnight. But likely he'll wait over, and get here to-morrow morning. Luckily though there's a moon to-night, to show him where to step, in case he comes right on." Gloam unfolded his arms, and raising his hands to his head, passed them several times slowly through his hair; staring downwards, meanwhile, at the wheel. The rigidity had passed away, and he seemed to be recovering from the agitation into which the first shock of the news had thrown him. Jael's mind was a good deal relieved at the absence of any signs of hostility on his part against David; and she was just about withdrawing, when Gloam turned quickly about and stepped after her. For the first time in the interview she now saw his face; and the sight so far startled her firm nerves as to draw from her a short low cry. It was not that the face was pallid, furrowed, and wasted; it had been all that from the first; but what appalled her was the ghastly expression of the mouth and eyes. It was not a smile, unless an evil spirit smiles, foreseeing the destruction of its victim. Evil it was--delightedly evil, like the triumph of long-baffled hate. It was a cruel, hungry, debased expression, hideously at variance with the passionate and ill-regulated but refined character of the man. It suggested the idea that Gloam was possessed by a strange spirit, more potent and more wicked than his own, which commanded his body to what uses it pleased, in spite of all that he could do.