Why did she not with unearthly screams, that would re-echo from one end of the lonely beach to the other, send out a warning to him to desist, to retrace his steps, for death lurked here whilst he advanced? Once or twice the screams rose to her throat--as if my instinct: then, before her eyes there stood the awful alternative: her brother and those three men shot before her eyes, practically by her orders: she their murderer.
Oh! that fiend in human shape, next to her, knew human--female--nature well.
He had played upon her feelings as a skilful musician plays upon an instrument.
He had gauged her very thoughts to a nicety.
