And just then a part of the roof of the pavilion fell in, so rapid was the
progress of the fire. A loud, vague, and horrible noise accompanied the
collapse, and a vast volume of flame went soaring up to heaven. It must
have been visible at that moment from twenty miles out at sea, from the
shore at Graden Wester, and far inland from the peak of Graystiel, the
most eastern summit of the Caulder Hills. Bernard Huddlestone, although
God knows what were his obsequies, had a fine pyre at the moment of his
death.

IX

I should have the greatest difficulty to tell you what followed next after
this tragic circumstance. It is all to me, as I look back upon it, mixed,
strenuous, and ineffectual, like the struggles of a sleeper in a
nightmare. Clara, I remember, uttered a broken sigh and would have fallen
forward to earth, had not Northmour and I supported her insensible body. I
do not think we were attacked: I do not remember even to have seen an
assailant; and I believe we deserted Mr. Huddlestone without a glance. I
only remember running like a man in a panic, now carrying Clara altogether
in my own arms, now sharing her weight with Northmour, now scuffling
confusedly for the possession of that dear burden. Why we should have made
for my camp in the Hemlock Den, or how we reached it, are points lost
forever to my recollection. The first moment at which I became definitely
sure, Clara had been suffered to fall against the outside of my little
tent, Northmour and I were tumbling together on the ground, and he, with
contained ferocity, was striking for my head with the butt of his
revolver. He had already twice wounded me on the scalp; and it is to the
consequent loss of blood that I am tempted to attribute the sudden
clearness of my mind.

I caught him by the wrist.

"Northmour," I remember saying, "you can kill me afterwards. Let us first
attend to Clara."

He was at that moment uppermost. Scarcely had the words passed my lips,
when he had leaped to his feet and ran toward the tent; and the next
moment, he was straining Clara to his heart and covering her unconscious
hands and face with his caresses.

"Shame!" I cried. "Shame to you, Northmour!"

And, giddy though I still was, I struck him repeatedly upon the head and
shoulders.

He relinquished his grasp, and faced me in the broken moonlight.

"I had you under, and I let you go," said he; "and now you strike me!
Coward!"

"You are the coward," I retorted. "Did s