e name of all the
fiends?"

"Eustace! Then that is she, after all!" said Frank, forgetting
everything else in her.

And now flashed across Amyas all that had passed between him and Eustace
in the moorland inn, and Parracombe's story, too, of the suspicious
gipsy. Eustace had been beforehand with them, and warned Don Guzman! All
was explained now: but how had he got hither?

"The devil, his master, sent him hither on a broomstick, I suppose: or
what matter how? Here he is; and here we are, worse luck!" And, setting
his teeth, Amyas awaited the end.

The two came on, talking earnestly, and walking at a slow pace, so that
the brothers could hear every word.

"What shall we do now?" said Frank. "We have no right to be
eavesdroppers."

"But we must be, right or none." And Amyas held him down firmly by the
arm.

"But whither are you going, then, my dear madam?" they heard Eustace
say in a wheedling tone. "Can you wonder if such strange conduct should
cause at least sorrow to your admirable and faithful husband?"

"Husband!" whispered Frank faintly to Amyas. "Thank God, thank God! I am
content. Let us go."

But to go was impossible; for, as fate would have it, the two had
stopped just opposite them.

"The inestimable Senor Don Guzman--" began Eustace again.

"What do you mean by praising him to me in this fulsome way, sir? Do you
suppose that I do not know his virtues better than you?"

"If you do, madam" (this was spoken in a harder tone), "it were wise for
you to try them less severely, than by wandering down towards the beach
on the very night that you know his most deadly enemies are lying in
wait to slay him, plunder his house, and most probably to carry you off
from him."

"Carry me off? I will die first!"

"Who can prove that to him? Appearances are at least against you."

"My love to him, and his trust for me, sir!"

"His trust? Have you forgotten, madam, what passed last week, and why he
sailed yesterday?"

The only answer was a burst of tears. Eustace stood watching her with a
terrible eye; but they could see his face writhing in the moonlight.

"Oh!" sobbed she at last. "And if I have been imprudent, was it not
natural to wish to look once more upon an English ship? Are you not
English as well as I? Have you no longing recollections of the dear old
land at home?"

Eustace was silent; but his face worked more fiercely than ever.

"How can he ever know it?"

"Why should he not know it?"