night was still. Looking up into it, he saw
a figure among the branches.

"It was the figure of a young man. The
face looked down, as his looked up; the
branches cracked and swayed; the figure
rapidly descended, and slid upon its feet
before him. A slender youth of about her
age, with long light brown hair.

"'What thief are you?' he said, seizing
the youth by the collar.

"The young man, in shaking himself
free, swung him a blow with his arm across
the face and throat. They closed, but the
young man got from him and stepped back,
crying, with great eagerness and horror,
'Don't touch me! I would as lieve be touched
by the Devil!'

"He stood still, with his bill-hook in his
hand, looking at the young man. For, the
young man's look was the counterpart of her
last look, and he had not expected ever to
see that again.

"'I am no thief. Even if I were, I would
not have a coin of your wealth, if it would
buy me the Indies. You murderer!'

"'What!'

"'I climbed it,' said the young man,
pointing up into the tree, 'for the first time,
nigh four years ago. I climbed it, to look at
her. I saw her. I spoke to her. I have
climbed it, many a time, to watch and listen
for her. I was a boy, hidden among its
leaves, when from that bay-window she gave
me this!'

"He showed a tress of flaxen hair, tied
with a mourning ribbon.

"'Her life,' said the young man, 'was a
life of mourning. She gave me this, as a
token of it, and a sign that she was dead to
every one but you. If I had been older, if I
had seen her sooner, I might have saved
her from you. But, she was fast in the web
when I first climbed the tree, and what could
I do then to break it!'

"In saying those words, he burst into a fit
of sobbing and crying: weakly at first, then
passionately.

"'Murderer! I climbed the tree on the
night when you brought her back. I heard
her, from the tree, speak of the Death-watch
at the door. I was three times in the tree
while you were shut up with her, slowly
killing her. I saw her, from the tree, lie
dead upon her bed. I have watched you,
from the tree, for proofs and traces of your
guilt. The manner of it, is a mystery to me
yet, but I will pursue you until you have
rendered up your life to the hangman. You
shall never, until then, be rid of me. I
loved her! I can know no relenting towards
you. Murderer, I loved her!'

"The youth was bare-headed, his hat
having fluttered away in his descent from the
tree. He moved towards the gate. He had
to pass—Him—to get to it. There was
breadth for two old-fashioned carriages
abreast; and the youth's abhorrence, openly
expressed in every feature of his face and
limb of his body, and very hard to bear, had
verge enough to keep itself at a distance in. He
(by which I mean the other) had not stirred
hand or foot, since he had stood still to look
at the boy. He faced round, now, to follow
him with his eyes. As the back of the bare
light-brown head was turned to him, he saw
a red curve stretch from his hand to it.
He knew, before he threw the bill-hook,
where it had alighted—I say, had alighted,
and not, would alight; for, to his clear perception
the thing was done before he did it. It
cleft the head, and it remained there, and the
boy lay on his face.

"He buried the body in the night, at the
foot of the tree. As soon as it was light in
the morning, he worked at turning up all the
ground near the tree, and hacking and
hewing at the neighbouring bushes and
undergrowth. When the laborers came, there was
nothing suspicious, and nothing was
suspected.

"But, he had, in a moment, defeated all his
precautions, and destroyed the triumph of
the scheme he had so long concerted, and so
successfully worked out. He had got rid of
the Bride, and had acquired her fortune without
endangering his life; but now, for a
death by which he had gained nothing, he had
evermore to live with a rope around his
neck.

"Beyond this, he was chained to the house of
gloom and horror, which he could not endure.
Being afraid to sell it or to quit it, lest discovery
should be made, he was forced to live in
it. He hired two old people, man and wife,
for his servants; and dwelt in it, and dreaded
it. His great difficulty, for a long time, was
the garden. Whether he should keep it
trim, whether he should suffer it to fall into
its former state of neglect, what would be
the least likely way of attracting attention
to it?

"He took the middle course of gardening,
himself, in his evening leisure, and of then
calling the old serving-man to help him; but,
of never letting him work there alone. And
he made himself an arbour over against the
tree, where he could sit and see that it was
safe.

"As the seasons changed, and the tree
changed, his mind perceived dangers that
were always changing. In the leafy time, he
perceived that the upper boughs were growing
into the form of the young man—that
they made the shape of him exactly, sitting
in a forked branch swinging in the wind. In
the time of the falling leaves, he perceived
that they came down from the tree, forming
tell-tale letters on the path, or that they had
a tendency to heap themselves into a church-
yard-mound above the grave. In the winter,
when the tree was bare, he perceived that the
boughs swung at him the ghost of the blow the
young man had given, and that they threatened
him openly. In the spring, when the