she had been making a fool of
herself; when they came suddenly on a hut, dark, cheerless, deserted,
standing above a black, stagnant, reed-grown waterhole.

The hut where Frank had gone to preach to the stockmen. The hut where
Lee had been murdered--an ill-omened place; and as they came opposite
to it, they saw two others approaching them in the moonlight--Major
Buckley and Alice Brentwood.

Then Alice, pushing forward, bravely met her, and told her all--all,
from beginning to end; and when she had finished, having borne up
nobly, fell to weeping as though her heart would break. But Mary did
not weep, or cry, or fall down. She only said, "Let me see him," and
went on with them, silent and steady.

They got to Garoopna late at night, none having spoken all the way.
Then they showed her into the room where poor Charles lay, cold and
stiff, and there she stayed hour after hour through the weary night.
Alice looked in once or twice, and saw her sitting on the bed which
bore the corpse of her son, with her face buried in her hands; and at
last, summoning courage, took her by the arm and led her gently to bed.

Then she went into the drawing-room, where, besides her father, were
Major Buckley, Doctor Mulhaus, Frank Maberly, and the drunken doctor
before spoken of, who had had the sublime pleasure of cutting a bullet
from his old adversary's arm, and was now in a fair way to justify the
SOBRIQUET I have so often applied to him. I myself also was sitting
next the fire, alongside of Frank Maberly.

"My brave girl," said the Major, "how is she?"

"I hardly can tell you, sir," said Alice; "she is so very quiet. If she
would cry now, I should be very glad. It would not frighten me so much
as seeing her like that. I fear she will die!"

"If her reason holds," said the Doctor, "she will get over it. She had,
from all accounts, gone through every phase of passion, down to utter
despair, before she knew the blow had fallen. Poor Mary!"

* * * * *

There, we have done. All this misery has come on her from one act of
folly and selfishness years ago. How many lives are ruined, how many
families broken up, by one false step! If ever a poor soul has expiated
her own offence, she has. Let us hope that brighter times are in store
for her. Let us have done with moral reflections; I am no hand at that
work. One more dark scene, reader, and then.--

* * * * *

It was one wild dreary day in the spring; a day of furious wind