seemed to me that this dead man knew I had come here, that he had himself planned this last meeting. I even fancied I heard the indistinct mutter I knew so well. . . . I ran away . . . looked back once. . . . Something glittering caught my eye; it brought me to a halt. It was a hoop of gold on the hand of the corpse. ... I knew it for my mother's betrothal ring. I remember how I forced myself to turn back, to go up, to bend down ... I remember the clammy touch of the chill fingers; I remember how I held my breath, and half-closed my eyes, and set my teeth, tearing off the obstinate ring . . .
At last, it was off . . . and I was running, running away at full speed, with something flying behind me, upon my heels, overtaking me.
XVI
All I had felt and gone through was probably written on my face when I got home. My mother abruptly drew herself up directly I went into her room, and looked with such urgent inquiry at me, that, after an unsuccessful attempt to explain, I ended by holding out the ring to her in silence. She turned fear-
