He was a large and powerful animal. He struggled fiercely in the grasp of Dudleigh, and the struggle was a terrific one. The villagers, who had now come up, stood off, staring in unspeakable horror, not one of them daring to interfere. But the terror which had at first frozen Edith into stone now gave way to another feeling, a terror quite as strong, but which, instead of congealing her into inaction, roused her to frenzied exertion. Dudleigh's life was at stake! Terror for herself was paralysis to her limbs; terror for him was the madness of desperate exertion and daring. She sprang toward one of the by-standers, who had a knife in his hand. This knife she snatched from him, and rushed toward Dudleigh. The dog was still writhing in his furious straggles. Dudleigh was still holding him down, and clutching at his throat with, death-like tenacity. For a moment she paused, and then flinging herself upon her knees at the dog's head, she plunged the knife with all her strength into the side of his neck. It was a mortal wound! With a last howl, the huge animal relaxed his efforts, and in a few moments lay dead in the road. Dudleigh rose to his feet. There was in his face an expression of pain and apprehension. The villagers stood aloof, staring at him with awful eyes. No word of congratulation was spoken. The silence was ominous; it was terrible. Edith was struck most of all by the expression of Dudleigh's face, and read there what she dared not think of. For a moment the old horror which had first seized upon her came upon her once more, paralyzing her limbs. She looked at him with staring eyes as she knelt, and the bloody knife dropped from her nerveless hands. But the horror passed, and once more, as before, was succeeded by vehement action. She sprang to her feet, and caught at his coat as he walked away. He turned, with downcast eyes. “O my God!” she exclaimed, in anguish, “you are wounded--you are bitten--and by that--” She could not finish her sentence. Dudleigh gave her an awful look. “You will die! you will die!” she almost screamed. “Oh, cannot something be done? Let me look at your arm. Oh, let me examine it--let me see where it is! Show me--tell me what I can do.” Dudleigh had turned to enter the smithy as Edith had arrested him, and now, standing there in the doorway, he gently disengaged himself from her grasp. Then he took off his coat and rolled up his sleeve.