"Ah, you are thinking of the spring!" said Eva starting; "it was there I saw--oh no--no," and she closed her eyes to shut out the sight.
"What was it--what was it?" asked Mrs. Merry eagerly; "death?"
"He was lying face downward in the moist red clay beside the spring of the Red Deeps!"
"Who was lying?"
"I don't know. I seemed to see the place and the figure of a man in dark clothes lying face downward, with his hands twisted helplessly in the rank grasses. I heard a laugh too--a cruel laugh, but in my dream I saw no one else. Only the dead man, face downward," and she stared at the carpet as though she saw the gruesome sight again.
"How do you know 'twas your father's corpse?" croaked the old woman.
"I didn't think it was--I didn't tell you it was," panted Eva, flushing and paling with conflicting emotions.
"Ah," interpreted Mrs. Merry, "some one he killed, perhaps."
"How dare you--how dare----? Nurse," she burst out, "I believe it was my father lying dead there--I saw a white-gloved right hand."
"Your pa, sure enough," said the woman grimly. "His wooden hand, eh? I know the hand. He struck me with it once. Struck me," she cried, rising and glaring, "with my own husband standing by. But Giles was never a man. So your pa was dead, wooden hand and all, in the Red Deeps? Did you go there to see, this day?"