He drew back into the shadow of the trees, and watched with no little curiosity. He had been so kind to the villagers that he felt surprised at this apparent ingratitude.
Presently a figure came down the path. The more he watched the figure the more certain he became that he had seen it before. Its every move seemed familiar to him.
Suddenly a thought flashed into his mind that made him hold his breath.
"Great Heavens! can it be Arthur Hollis?" he ejaculated.
His face paled; great flashes of fire seemed to come from his eyes. The very blood in his veins seemed to stagnate. Faint and dizzy, he leaned back against the trunk of a tree.
Great God! what could it mean? His wife supposed him to be by this time on his way to the ball. During his absence would she meet, dared she meet Arthur Hollis?
The tall, familiar-looking figure paced impatiently by the brook-side under the dim light of the stars. Yes, the man was there waiting for some one.
From where he stood he could plainly see a faint light in the window of his wife's room, and as his eyes were fixed upon it, the light was extinguished.
If a sword had been plunged into Eugene Mallard's heart, it could not have given him a greater shock.