After she had gone to bed and had put out the candle, she lay thinking of Walter, smiling, and feeling very happy. In the spring he would be her husband.
After she had thought and happily dreamed a delicious wide-awake dream, she felt cool. Should she close the window? She had better; she had grown timid of late. But she called herself a timid, weak thing and resolved to leave it open. She did; and went to sleep.
“Trouble is coming; take care!”
Hallo! away down there in the dark, grim wood. Who is talking at this time of night? Hallo!
She went to sleep, so did Robert Jeffries, and the window was open.
The moon rose into the zenith and looked down from her pale face upon three different objects: a forest, a river, and a cabin.
In the forest a silent form lay cold, still and bloody, near a thick tree; a man stood over him, looking quietly down upon him.
The watcher spoke in a strange, far-away voice.
“Trouble is coming; take care, take care.”
He turned and was gone with a very white face, a silent, swift tread, and a cold, staring eye.