“Haven’t I—always tried to make you happy?”
The words came from the body before her, but she did not know the voice. It was Dion’s voice, of course. It must be that. But she had never heard it before.
“Don’t come nearer to me. What have you done?”
“Robin—I have—I have—Robin—my gun——”
The voice failed in the darkness. Rosamund shut her eyes. She had seen an angry hand tear down a branch of wild olive. Suddenly she knew. It seemed to her that ever since that day long ago in Elis some part of her had always prophetically known that Dion was fated to bring terror and ruin into her life. This was not true, but now she felt it to be true.
“You’ve killed Robin,” she said, quietly and coldly.
Her brain and heart seemed to stand still, like things staring into an immense voice. They had come to the end of their road.
“You’ve killed Robin,” she said again.
“Rosamund——”
The body in front of her moved to come towards her. Then she uttered the fearful cry which was heard by Mr. Darlington on his way home from the Deanery, and she fled from the body which had slain Robin.