more intent upon getting
away than upon what Peterkin was saying.

He longed to be in the open air, and as he mounted his horse, he said,
as if speaking to some one near him:

'Well, old fellow, I've done it again, and sunk myself still lower. You
are bound to get me now some day, unless I have a death-bed repentance
and confess everything. The thief was forgiven at the last hour, why not
I?'

The black shadow which Frank felt sure was beside him, did not answer,
though he could have sworn that he heard a chuckle as he rode on, fast
and far, until his horse was tired and he was tired, too. Then he began
to retrace his steps, so slowly that it was dark when, he reached the
village, and took the road which led by the gate through which the woman
had passed to her death on the night of the storm. It was the shortest
route to the park, and he intended to take it.

As he drew near to the gate, it seemed to him that there was something
on the wide post nearest the fence which had not been there in the
afternoon when he rode by--something dark, and large, and peculiar in
shape, and motionless as a stone. He was not by nature a coward, and
once he had no belief in ghosts or supernatural appearances, but now he
did not know what he believed, and this object, whose outline, seen
against, the western sky, where a little dim light was lingering, seemed
almost like that of a human form, made his heart beat faster than its
wont, and he involuntarily checked his horse, just as a clear, shrill
voice called out:

'Mr. Tracy, is that you? I have waited so long, and I'm so cold sitting
here. Did you post the letter?'

It was Jerry who, after he had left her in his office, had been seized
with an indefinable terror lest he might not post the letter after all.
It seemed wrong to doubt him, and she did not really think that she did
doubt him; still she would feel happier if she knew, and after supper
was over she started along the grassy road until she reached the gate.
Here she waited a long time, and then, as Mr. Tracy did not appear, she
walked up and down the lane until the sun was down and the ground began
to feel so damp and cold that she finally climbed up to the top of the
gate-post, which was very broad, and where, on her way to town, she had
frequently sat for a while. It was very cold and tiresome waiting there,
and she was beginning to get impatient and to wonder if it could be
possible that he had gone home by some other