"A life of sin, Hector, for, as God hears me, I’ll never set you free now. Had you been honest with me from the first, as I implored you to be, I would have done it, but now—no!"
"Take care, why should I take care? What have I to care for now? Kill me if you like, Hector, it’s the only way. I swear it. What stops you, my husband? You did it once before, and..."
"I dare say fifty times, and for far less reason. Kill me, I ask you, I’m not afraid to die. You won’t? Then ... go." And Hector went.
At the hall door an uncouth figure was standing, awaiting him; it was Tom, bearing news of widgeon in the marshes and woodcock in the spinny, blown in by the gale last night, but the story was cut short. "Bring the cart round at once. Damn the widgeon!" answered his master, and hurried within. There was barely time to catch the train, but the devil was aiding him now, and ten minutes later dressing-case and portmanteau had been carried below and thrown into the waiting cart; and he was left standing in the room he was leaving behind for ever.
Dully his eyes rested upon the new guns reposing in their leather case, the wild grasses on the mantelpiece, and on his bed the yellow plush figure of James. For a moment he stood staring at the monkey, and then, snatching it up, thrust it away out of sight in his pocket, and hurried from the room. Down the stairs he went, through the black-and-white tiled hall, creeping like a thief past a certain closed door, and then into the cart and away at a gallop.
Rocking and swaying, they flew through the narrow lanes, rounding corners on one wheel, and shaving heavily-laden country carts. On through the village, scattering children and flocks of frightened geese, till at last the station was reached. Only just in time too, for the train was already on the move, but one push from the gleeful devil and Hector was across the platform and into the train; and three minutes later was lying a huddled heap in the corner, the flat green landscape around him sliding away into the past.
Tom sat gazing after him, with a look on his face that few had ever seen there before. He climbed slowly down, and, taking out a blanket, spread it carefully over the white pony’s quarters, streaked with rivulets of sweat. For a moment he stood contemplating his quivering charge, and then his eyes fell on the golden sovereign lying in his hand.