"Murderer--murderer!" she cried hoarsely. "You shall pay for this."
"You will tell--you will give me up?"
Her eyes were on the mill and the river . . . "Where--where is he?
Has he gone down the river? Did you kill him and let him go--like that!"
She made a flinging gesture, as one would toss a stone.
He stared at her. He had never seen her face like that--so strained and
haggard. George Masson was right when he said that she would give him
up; that his life would be in danger, and that his child's life would be
spoiled.
"Murderer!" she repeated. "And when you go to the gallows, your child's
life--you did not think of that, eh? To have your revenge on the man who
was no more to blame than I, thinking only of yourself, you killed him;
but you did not think of your child."
Ah, yes, surely George Masson was right! That was what he had said about
his child, Zoe. What a good thing it was he had not killed the ravager
of his home!
But suddenly his logic came to his aid. In terrible misery as he was, he
was almost pleased that he could reason. "And you would give me over to
the law? You would send me to the gallows--and spoil your child's life?"
he retorted.
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