dark, it sounded as though it were not human. Of those who heard
it, not one guessed from whence it came, nor was the hand of any
brother put forward to help that woman at her need.

"Did you hear that?" said the young wife to her husband, from the
far side of the arm of the sea.

"Hear it! Oh Heaven, yes! Whence did it come?" The young wife
could not say from whence it came, but clung close to her husband's
breast, comforting herself with the knowledge that that terrible
sorrow was not hers.

But aid did come at last, or rather that which seemed as aid. Long
and terrible was the fight between that human beast of prey and the
poor victim which had fallen into his talons. Anastasia Bergen was
a strong, well-built woman, and now that the time had come to her
when a struggle was necessary, a struggle for life, for honour, for
the happiness of him who was more to her than herself, she fought
like a tigress attacked in her own lair. At such a moment as this
she also could become wild and savage as the beast of the forest.
When he pinioned her arms with one of his, as he pressed her down
upon the floor, she caught the first joint of the forefinger of his
other hand between her teeth till he yelled in agony, and another
sound was heard across the silent water. And then, when one hand
was loosed in the struggle, she twisted it through his long hair,
and dragged back his head till his eyes were nearly starting from
their sockets. Anastasia Bergen had hitherto been a sheer woman,
all feminine in her nature. But now the foam came to her mouth, and
fire sprang from her eyes, and the muscles of her body worked as
though she had been trained to deeds of violence. Of violence,