ple under the moon broke unexpectedly now and then,
and palely flashed in a new shape and with a new sound, so parts of
his thoughts started, unbidden, from the rest, and revealed their
wickedness. 'Out of the question to marry her,' said Eugene, 'and out of
the question to leave her. The crisis!'

He had sauntered far enough. Before turning to retrace his steps, he
stopped upon the margin, to look down at the reflected night. In an
instant, with a dreadful crash, the reflected night turned crooked,
flames shot jaggedly across the air, and the moon and stars came
bursting from the sky.

Was he struck by lightning? With some incoherent half-formed thought
to that effect, he turned under the blows that were blinding him and
mashing his life, and closed with a murderer, whom he caught by a red
neckerchief--unless the raining down of his own blood gave it that hue.

Eugene was light, active, and expert; but his arms were broken, or he
was paralysed, and could do no more than hang on to the man, with his
head swung back, so that he could see nothing but the heaving sky. After
dragging at the assailant, he fell on the bank with him, and then there
was another great crash, and then a splash, and all was done.

Lizzie Hexam, too, had avoided the noise, and the Saturday movement of
people in the straggling street, and chose to walk alone by the water
until her tears should be dry, and she could so compose herself as
to escape remark upon her looking ill or unhappy on going home. The
peaceful serenity of the hour and place, having no reproaches or evil
intentions within her breast to contend against, sank healingly into
its depths. She had meditated and taken comfort. She, too, was turning
homeward, when she heard a strange sound.

It startled her, for it was like a sound of blows. She stood still, and
listened. It sickened her, for blows fell heavily and cruelly on the
quiet of the night. As she listened, undecided, all was silent. As she
yet listened, she heard a faint groan, and a fall into the river.

Her old bold life and habit instantly inspired her. Without vain waste
of breath in crying for help where there were none to hear, she ran
towards the spot from which the sounds had come. It lay between her and
the bridge, but it was more removed from her than she had thought; the
night being so very quiet, and sound travelling far with the help of
water.

At length, she reached a part of the green bank, much and newly tr