May walked on with a sense of exhilaration and pleasure pervading her whole being. She walked on until where the Dene narrows, stopped for a moment and glanced up at the steep-wooded declivity at its side. What made her suddenly start and turn pale? A little cry broke from her lips; a ghastly sight met her horror-stricken eyes.
A woman’s body, with head hanging downward and dark hair unbound, was suspended from a branch of one of the largest trees. May made a step nearer with shrinking dread. She thought first the poor creature had hanged herself, but a second glance told her this was not so.
There was a red stain of curdled blood around the drooped throat, from which the handkerchief had fallen, and the face, with its sightless, half-open eyes, nearly touched the ground. May went closer—then she saw the wound in the throat—the broken branches above; she recognized the face! It was the handsome girl from the Wayside Inn, the landlord’s daughter, and with a cry of horror May turned and fled from the spot.
She ran until she came in sight of the little bridge at the entrance of the Dene. On this, as he was in the very act of crossing it, John Temple saw her come hurrying on, evidently in a state of the greatest excitement and agitation. Instead of the pretty smiling girl he expected to meet, here was a woman who came toward him with outstretched hand and a white, shocked face.
“Oh! Mr. Temple,” she gasped out, as they met, “something so dreadful has happened!”
“My dear Miss Churchill,” he answered, taking both her hands, “what has happened?”
“A poor girl, a poor woman, is lying I think murdered farther up the Dene—”
“Murdered?” repeated John Temple.
“I think so, I fear so,” continued May, who was trembling in every limb. “She is hanging from a tree—she may have fallen—”
“Are you sure she is dead?” asked John Temple, gravely. “This has given you a great shock, I fear; but I had better go at once and see if I can do anything.”