Jane had remained in a state of great anxiety during her husband's absence, watching and listening to every sound; every five minutes raising the latch of the door, and looking out, hoping to see him return. As the time went on, her alarm increased; she laid her head down on the table and wept; she could find no consolation, no alleviation of her anxiety; she dropped down on her knees and prayed. She was still appealing to the Most High, when a blow on the door announced her husband's return. There was a sulken gloom over his countenance as he entered: he threw his gun carelessly on one side, so that it fell, and rattled against the paved floor; and this one act was to her ominous of evil. He sat down without speaking; falling back in the chair, and lifting his eyes up to the rafters above, he appeared to be in deep thought, and unconscious of her presence. "What has happened?" inquired his wife, trembling as she laid her hand on his shoulder. "Don't speak to me now," was the reply. "Joey," said the frightened woman in a whisper, "what has he done?" Joey answered not, but raised his hand, red with the blood which was now dried upon it. Jane uttered a faint cry, dropped on her knees, and covered her face, while Joey walked into the back kitchen, and busied himself in removing the traces of the dark deed. A quarter of an hour had elapsed--Joey had returned, and taken his seat upon his low stool, and not a word had been exchanged. There certainly is a foretaste of the future punishment which awaits crime; for how dreadful were the feelings of those who were now sitting down in the cottage! Rushbrook was evidently stupefied from excess of feeling; first, the strong excitement which had urged him to the deed; and now from the reaction the prostration of mental power which had succeeded it. Jane dreaded the present and the future--whichever way she turned her eyes the gibbet was before her--the clanking of chains in her ears; in her vision of the future, scorn, misery, and remorse--she felt only for her husband. Joey, poor boy, he felt for both. Even the dog showed, as he looked up into Joey's face, that he was aware that a foul deed had been done. The silence which it appeared none would venture to break, was at last dissolved by the clock of the village church solemnly striking two. They all started up--it was a warning--it reminded them of the bell tolling for the dead--of time and of eternity; but time present quickly effaced for the moment other ideas; yes, it was time to act; in four hours more it would be daylight, and the blood of the murdered man would appeal to his fellow-men for vengeance. The sun would light them to the deed of darkness--the body would be brought home--the magistrates would assemble--and who would be the party suspected? "Merciful Heaven!" exclaimed Jane, "what can be done?" "There is no proof;" muttered Rushbrook. "Yes, there is," observed Joey, "I left my bag there, when I stooped down to--"