d, feeble hearts,
was thus cruelly and terribly dispersed for ever!

CHAPTER XXIII.

WHAT FOLLOWED THE MURDER.

There was a dreadful pause, after the commission of the deed, in which
no word was spoken by either of the parties. The murderer, meanwhile,
with the utmost composure wiped his bloody knife in the coat of the man
whom he had slain. Boldly and coolly then, he broke the silence which
was certainly a painful one to Munro if not to himself.

"We shall hear no more of his insolence. I owed him a debt. It is paid.
If fools will be in the way of danger, they must take the consequences."

The landlord only groaned.

The murderer laughed.

"It is your luck," he said, "always to groan with devout feeling, when
you have _done_ the work of the devil! You may spare your groans, if
they are designed for repentance. They are always too late!"

"It is a sad truth, though the devil said it."

"Well, rouse up, and let's be moving. So far, our ride has been for
nothing. We must leave this carrion to the vultures. What next? Will it
be of any use to pursue this boy again to-night? What say you? We must
pursue and silence him of course; but we have pushed the brutes already
sufficiently to-night. They would be of little service to-night, in a
longer chase."

The person addressed did not immediately reply, and when he spoke, did
not answer to the speech of his companion. His reply, at length, was
framed in obedience to the gloomy and remorseful course of his thought.

"It will be no wonder, Guy, if the whole country turn out upon us. You
are too wanton in your doings. Wherefore when I told you of your error,
did you strike the poor wretch again."

The landlord, it will be seen, spoke simply with reference to policy and
expediency, and deserved as little credit for humanity as the individual
he rebuked. In this particular lay the difference between them. Both
were equally ruffianly, but the one had less of passion, less of
feeling, and more of profession in the matter. With the other, the trade
of crime was adopted strictly in subservience to the dictates of
ill-regulated desires and emotions, suffering defeat in their hope of
indulgence, and stimulating to a morbid action which became a disease.
The references of Munro were always addressed to the petty gains; and
the miserly nature, thus perpetually exhibiting itself, at the expense
of all other emotions, was, in fact, the true influence which subjected
him