She turns
with a startled cry, and Kitty Marchurst and Gaston Vandeloup are
looking into one another's eyes. Kitty's charming face is worn and
pallid, and the hand which clutches her shawl is trembling nervously
as she gazes at her old lover. There he stands, dressed in old black
clothes, worn and tattered looking, with his fair auburn hair all
tangled and matted; his chin covered with a short stubbly beard of
some weeks' growth, and his face gaunt and haggard-looking--the very
same appearance as he had when he landed in Australia. Then he
sought to preserve his liberty; now he is seeking to preserve his
life. They gaze at one another in a fascinated manner for a few
moments, and then Gaston removes his hand from the girl's shoulder
with a sardonic laugh, and she buries her face in her hands with a
stifled sob.
'So this is the end,' he said, pointing to the river, and fixing his
scintillating eyes on the girl; 'this is the end of our lives; for
you the river--for me the hangman.'
'God help me,' she moaned, piteously; 'what else is left to me but
the river?'
'Hope,' he said, in a low voice; 'you are young; you are beautiful;
you can yet enjoy life; but,' in a deliberate cruel manner, 'you
will not, for the river claims you as its victim.'
Something in his voice fills her with fear, and looking up she reads
death in his face, and sinking on her knees she holds out her
helpless hands with a pitying cry for life.
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