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1 It was all joy with her now, as she sat motionless
without speaking,

while he administered to her wants and spoke words of
love into her

ears.  She
remembered the man's horrid threat, and knew that by

God's mercy she had been saved.  And he was there caressing her,

loving her, comforting her!  As she thought of the fate that had

threatened her, of the evil that had been so imminent,
she fell

forward on her knees, and with incoherent sobs uttered
her

thanksgivings, while her head was still supported on his
arms.

 



2 It was almost morning before she could induce
herself to leave him

and lie down. 
With him she seemed to be so perfectly safe; but the

moment he was away she could see Aaron Trow's eyes
gleaming at her

across the room. 
At last, however, she slept; and when he saw that

she was at rest, he told himself that his work must
then begin.

Hitherto Caleb Morton had lived in all respects the
life of a man of

peace; but now, asking himself no questions as to the
propriety of

what he would do, using no inward arguments as to this
or that line

of conduct, he girded the sword on his loins, and
prepared himself

for war.  The
wretch who had thus treated the woman whom he loved

should be hunted down like a wild beast, as long as he
had arms and

legs with which to carry on the hunt.  He would pursue the miscreant

with any weapons that might come to his hands; and
might Heaven help

him at his need as he dealt forth punishment to that
man, if he

caught him within his grasp.  Those who had hitherto known Morton in

the island, could not recognise the man as he came
forth on that

day, thirsty after blood, and desirous to thrust
himself into

personal conflict with the wild ruffian who had
injured him.  The

meek Presbyterian minister had been a preacher,
preaching ways of

peace, and living in accordance with his own
doctrines.  The world

had been very quiet for him, and he had walked quietly
in his

appointed path. 
But now the world was quiet no longer, nor was

there any preaching of peace.  His cry was for blood; for the blood

of the untamed savage brute who had come upon his
young doe in her

solitude, and striven with such brutal violence to
tear her heart

from her bosom.

 



3 He got to his assistance early in the morning some
of the constables

from St. George, and before the day was over, he was
joined by two

or three of the warders from the convict
establishment.  There was

with him also a friend or two, and thus a party was
formed,

numbering together ten or twelve persons.  They were of course all

armed, and therefore it might be thought that there
would be but

small chance for the wretched man if they should come
upon his

track.  At first
they all searched together, thinking from the

tidings which had reached them that he must be near to
them; but

gradually they spread themselves along the rocks
between St. George

and the ferry, keeping watchman on the road, so that
he should not

escape unnoticed into the island.

 



4 Ten times during the day did Anastasia send from the
cottage up to

Morton, begging him to leave the search to others, and
come down to

her.  But not
for a moment would he lose the scent of his prey.

What! should it be said that she had been so treated,
and that

others had avenged her?  He sent back to say that her father was

with her now, and that he would come when his work was
over.  And in

that job of work the life-blood of Aaron Trow was
counted up.