“Ay, Gloom Achanna, for I have but to scream and Sheumais will be here, an’ he would kill you like a dog if he knew you did me harm.” “Ah, but if there were no James, or any man, to come between me an’ my will!” “Then there would be a woman! Ay, if you overbore me I would strangle you with my hair, or fix my teeth in your false throat!” “I was not for knowing you were such a wild-cat! But I’ll tame you yet, my lass! Aha, wild-cat!” and, as he spoke, he laughed low. “It is a true word, Gloom of the black heart. I _am_ a wild-cat, and like a wild-cat I am not to be seized by a fox, and that you will be finding to your cost, by the holy St Bridget! But now, off with you, brother of my man!” “Your man … ha! ha!…” “Why do you laugh?” “Sure, I am laughing at a warm white lass like yourself having a dead man as your lover!” “A … dead … man?” No answer came. The girl shook with a new fear. Slowly she drew closer till her breath fell warm against the face of the other. He spoke at last. “Ay, a dead man.” “It is a lie.” “Where would you be that you were not hearing his goodbye? I’m thinking it was loud enough!” “It is a lie … it is a lie!” “No, it is no lie. Sheumais is cold enough now. He’s low among the weeds by now. Ay, by now; down there in the lochan.” “_What_ … you, _you devil_! Is it for killing your own brother you would be!” “I killed no one. He died his own way. Maybe the cramp took him. Maybe … maybe a kelpie gripped him. I watched. I saw him beneath the green branches. He was dead before he died, I saw it in the white face o’ him. Then he sank. He’s dead--James is dead. Look here, girl, I’ve always loved you. I swore the oath upon you--you’re mine. Sure, you’re mine now, Katreen! It is loving you I am! It will be a south wind for you from this day, _muirnean mochree_! See here, I’ll show you how I …” “Back … back … _murderer_!” “Be stopping that foolishness now, Katreen Macarthur! By the Book, I am tired of it! I am loving you, and it’s having you for mine I am! And if you won’t come to me like the dove to its mate, I’ll come to you like the hawk to the dove!” With a spring he was upon her. In vain she strove to beat him back. His arms held her as a stoat grips a rabbit. He pulled her head back, and kissed her throat till the strangulating breath sobbed against his ear. With a last despairing effort she screamed the name of the dead man--“_Sheumais! Sheumais! Sheumais!_” The man who struggled with her laughed. “Ay, call away! The herrin’ will be coming through the bracken as soon as Sheumais comes to your call! Ah, it is mine you are now, Katreen! He’s dead an’ cold, … an’ you’d best have a living man … an’ …” She fell back, her balance lost in the sudden releasing. What did it mean? Gloom still stood there, but as one frozen. Through the darkness she saw at last that a hand gripped his shoulder--behind him a black mass vaguely obtruded.