a loud cry sprang to her feet. When he would have touched her again she
recoiled, putting between them a space of green grass. "I have hunted you
for an hour," he began. "At last I struck this path. Audrey"--

Audrey's hands went to her ears. Step by step she moved backward, until
she stood against the trunk of a blood-red oak. When she saw that Haward
followed her she uttered a terrified scream. At the sound and at the sight
of her face he stopped short, and his outstretched hand fell to his side.
"Why, Audrey, Audrey!" he exclaimed. "I would not hurt you, child. I am
not Jean Hugon!"

The narrow path down which he had come was visible for some distance as it
wound through field and copse, and upon it there now appeared another
figure, as yet far off, but moving rapidly through the fading light toward
the river. "Jean! Jean! Jean Hugon!" cried Audrey.

The blood rushed to Haward's face. "As bad as that!" he said, beneath his
breath. Going over to the girl, he took her by the hands and strove to
make her look at him; but her face was like marble, and her eyes would not
meet his, and in a moment she had wrenched herself free of his clasp.
"Jean Hugon! Help, Jean Hugon!" she called.

The half-breed in the distance heard her voice, and began to run toward
them.

"Audrey, listen to me!" cried Haward. "How can I speak to you, how
explain, how entreat, when you are like this? Child, child, I am no
monster! Why do you shrink from me thus, look at me thus with frightened
eyes? You know that I love you!"