I threw on my cloak, and, carrying my shoes, slowly and breathlessly crept down the stairs to the back door, which had a light fastening. And I ran across garden and park, across Graysmill Heath in the night, strengthened by one fear against all others, nor did I stop until I stood on the little hillock within sight of the Thatched Cottage. I saw at once that a light was burning in the window of Gabriel's old room. I sprang on and halted once more on the grass-patch before the Cottage door. The blind was down, a shadow passed to and fro. I could see very well by the way he moved that he was not calm. I wanted to get to him. I tried the house door, but it was firmly fastened. I sat down on the ground and kept my eyes fixed on the window. He stooped repeatedly; once, as he swept the hair back from his eyes, I thought I saw that he held something in his hand. I picked up a stone, ready to throw it at the window, but my courage failed me; then I noticed that the light flickered strangely, as from fire; it faded, and all was dark. I strained my ears in vain for a sound; a horrible fear seized me. I flung my little stone, but it was very dark; I heard it strike the bricks. Groping for more, I flung another, and yet another. One of them struck the panes; I stood and held my breath,--no sound. I made my way to the door again, tried it again; I laid my ear to the key-hole, and then I distinctly heard the creaking of the stairs; some one was coming down. The hall was crossed, the bolt of the door was gently drawn. I fell back a little; some one came out with a firm step, and sprang on to the path. It was a mere shadow that I could see; I caught him by the arm. "Gabriel," I said, "where are you going?" He started violently, and something fell from his hand. "You?" he cried. "Why are you here? Emilia! you have come too soon!" I remember that I clutched his wrists, as if in fear that he might even then lift his hand against himself. "You coward!" was all I said; "oh, you coward!" He did not answer me, and we stood so a while. Then he said gently: "Your hands are cold, my girl; let us go in." We made our way into the study. After some groping, we found the matches and lighted a candle. Gabriel sat down by the table and buried his face in his hands. I went to him and stroked his hair. "Poor boy," I said; "I guessed how it would be; that's why I came." He stood up hastily. "Don't touch me!" he cried; "I have done you a fearful wrong; there was only one atonement I could make, and that you have prevented. Emilia, leave me. You should not have come."