When Edith opened her eyes, she found herself lying upon a bed of straw. She was dressed in dry clothes, sheltered by a canvas roof, warmed by a fire, and watched by a woman. Her eyes, after having carelessly noted these things, remained fixed on the face of the woman, for she had recognized the bold black eyes of Sal Blexley.
Edith remained dumb, but Sal broke the silence with a loud laugh.
“I said we should meet again, and so we have, you see. I thought it would come to this.”
“Where are ye? Why, in a gipsy tent, with me and my pals. I was out on the rampage with my chap, when we saw ye throw yourself in the river. I got him to fish you out--more dead than alive, I bet--and between us we brought ye here. There, don’t shrink away, and don’t look afeard. I ain’t agoin’ to harm ye. Your man’s deserted ye, I reckon. Well, ye despised me once, ye know, and so did he; but I mean to let ye see that ‘tain’t only gentlefolks and clergy that can do a good turn to them as wants it.”
_December 15_.--The first snow fell yesterday. As I write, the air is still darkened with the falling flakes. From here to the village is spread a soft white carpet, ankle-deep. I am more than usually interested in this common phenomenon, as I can tell, by the deep footprints, exactly who is coming and going. One track interests me especially--that of a shapely foot, clad in an elegant, tightly fitting boot. Its holy owner came as far as the lodge gate, no further. To make certain that I was not mistaken, I inquired of the lodge-keeper, and found that the clergyman _had_ passed this morning.
As matters stand now, I can arrange everything with coolness and _sang froid_, for I am really the master of the situation. I hold this man, as it were, in the hollow of my hand. I know his life, his comings and goings, his offences against social propriety, against his own conscience; there is not a step of that poor instrument, his soul, of which I am not master. Despite all this, he is still absolutely blind to his danger. He thinks me sleeping sound, when I am wide awake. Imbecile!
Well, I mean to have my revenge, somehow or other; how and when, I have not exactly determined. I should like to read my satyr such a lesson as would last him for a lifetime; and of course, without any kind of _public_ scandal. I have thought once or twice of a way, but it would, perhaps, be playing with fire to attempt it; nor is it easy to carry out without my wife’s co-operation.