“Ha, ha,” laughed Bessie, as a shrill cry rent the air, followed by a deep groan as of some one in great distress.
Miss Elsworth stood for a moment as one frozen with terror.
“Oh, Bessie, Bessie, what have you done?” she asked, in a voice full of pity. “Have you killed your brother?”
“No, no,” said Bessie, stepping cautiously down, “but I told you I meant some day to take his head off, and now I have done it. You see you don’t understand all these things, but you can come with me if you want to see. He is just there behind that tree, that is where he fell. He did not see me, but I saw him just in time. Ha, ha, ha! Yes, yes, I’m coming; don’t you see me? Don’t you know Bessie?”
Miss Elsworth followed Bessie, and looking down by a cluster of bushes, saw a man, wounded and bleeding. Miss Elsworth stooped, and, lifting the hat which had fallen over his face, she uttered a cry almost as full of agony as those uttered by the man who had been wounded.
“Oh, Bessie, what have you done?” she asked, while her face grew deathly white. “Bessie, you have killed——”
“Yes, I know I killed him,” said Bessie, as she stooped down and smoothed back the silken hair, and pressed her lips to those of the suffering man.
“You know I told you I would.”
“You have done a very wicked act, Bessie.”