As he asked that question he saw the pallor of the beautiful face grow more pronounced. The frank blue eyes wavered, and for a second or two he thought she was going to faint. Then she drew a quick, gasping breath.
“You know these woods,” she said unsteadily. “There are wolves and—and bears. To carry a rifle is the merest prudence.”
A frown came on the corporal’s face. He knew that the answer was a mere evasion, and he was not pleased. But he did not challenge the answer directly.
“Miss Gargrave,” he asked, “were you afraid of Dick Bracknell?”
“Not afraid, exactly,” was the reply candidly given, “but I loathed him, and hated the thought of his coming into my life again.”
The corporal considered for a few seconds, and then asked his next question bluntly.
“Tell me, did you fire your rifle at all whilst you were out, or whilst you were waiting for your husband?”
As he made the inquiry the girl came to a sudden standstill, her lips trembling, her pale face working strangely, the blue eyes expressive of awful fear. He waited in far more distress than his impassive face indicated, and at last the answer came in a shaking whisper.
“Yes, I did. But, oh, believe me, I—I did not know that I had done so till afterwards. I do not know what happened.... I saw him fall in the snow, and I waited. Then I went up to him. He seemed to be dead—and after that I must have fled homeward.”
As he listened the corporal visioned the tragedy of the night before, and as he looked into her troubled face, his heart smote him. His voice was almost sympathetic as he asked the next question.