"Stephen!" cried the girl in sudden terror. For in her mind's eye she
recalled the dream: Michael standing blind and helpless, returned from
the dark pool of Death, only to find its second emissary standing
ruthless and final before him. As in the dream, the messenger of hate
knew no entreaty. His eyes and voice were cold as steel.
"I vowed that I would help you win her freedom. That I have done. But
I will not surrender her to you
. The girl will come away with me, or be buried here beside you."
"No," said Michael flatly. "No."
"I'll kill you!" cried the betrayer. And the scarlet arm began to
stiffen in the firing motion.
But at the very instant he would have shot, Mary stepped before her
only love, willing to die to save him.
A moment later the Englishmen was confronted by something more
unnerving still. For it was not the love loyalty of another, but his
own, unrealized devotion. A cry was heard from above: not a scream,
for it contained rage as well as fear. Like a stone from a precipice
it fell, and like a stone struck the earth beside him, changing to the
horror of his eyes from a formless clot.
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