This last was an exclamation of warning, John Burrill had staggered to his feet, and was aiming an unsteady blow at the averted head of Doctor Heath.
The latter turned swiftly, comprehending the situation at a glance, and once more felled the brute to the floor.
By this time others had appeared upon the scene,—neighbors, roused by the cry of the woman.
Doctor Heath bent again to examine her face. He had scarcely observed the features of the man he had just knocked down; and he now asked:
"Is—this man you husband, madam?"
The woman reddened under her bruises.
"He was my husband," she said, bitterly. "He is—John Burrill."
Clifford Heath started back, thinking, first of all, of Sybil, and realizing that there must be no scandal, that could be avoided, for her sake. He had never seen Burrill, save at a distance, but had heard, as had every one in W——, of his divorced wife.
Turning to one of the neighbors, he said: "I was passing on my way home from Mrs. Brown's, when I heard this alarm. I think, good people, that we had better let this fellow go away quietly, and attend to this woman. Her face will be badly swollen by and by." Then he turned once more toward Burrill.
Once more the miscreant was struggling to his feet, and at a command from Doctor Heath, he hastened his efforts. Hitherto, he had had only a vision of a pair of flashing dark eyes, and an arm that shot out swiftly, and straight home.