"They mean evil, or they would not hide. Gretchen, what shall we do?"
Mrs. Woods closed the door and barred it, took down the rifle from the side of the room, and looked out through a crevice in the split shutter.
There was a silence for a time; then Mrs. Woods moved and said: "They are coming toward the house, passing from one tree to another. They mean revenge—I feel it—revenge on me, and Benjamin—he is the leader of it."
The flitting of shadowy forms among the pines grew alarming. Nearer and nearer they came, and more and more excited became Mrs. Woods's apprehensions. Gretchen began to cry, through nervous excitement, and with the first rush of tears came to her, as usual, the thought of her violin.
She took up the instrument, tuned it with nervous fingers, and drew the bow across the strings, making them shriek as with pain, and then drifted into the air the music of the Traumerei.
"Fiddling, Gretchen—fiddling in the shadow of death? I don't know but what you are right—that tune, too!"
The music trembled; the haunting strain quivered, rose and descended, and was repeated over and over again.
"There is no movement in the pines," said Mrs. Woods. "It is growing darker. Play on. It does seem as though that strain was stolen from heaven to overcome evil with."
Gretchen played. An hour passed, and the moon rose. Then she laid down the violin and listened.
"Oh, Gretchen, he is coming! I know that form. It is Benjamin. He is coming alone. What shall we do? He is—right before the door!"