And, as the voice died, I heard the rush of sheep in the night.
Filled with nameless fear and a cold apprehension, I entered the house, and, led by some cruel instinct, made my way to Kate's room. The lamp she always had at night burned dimly on the dressing-table and cast a grave radiance upon an empty bed.
What could this mean?
I stole to the room of Fraser, bearing the lamp with me. His chamber was also untenanted; but, on the quilt of the bed, lay a piece of paper written over. I took it up and read—with the sound of the burn in my ears:—
“You stole her from me. I take back my own. To-night we stay at the old Manse. To-morrow we shall be far away. Hugh Fraser.”
The paper dropped from my hand upon the quilt. A woman's scream rang in my ears above the roar of flames. I understood.
The tribute money has been paid. I go down to the burn. The grey traveller is waiting there for me.