Beyond their dark

line there was a ribbon of clear sky, hardly broad enough to hold

the red large moon. In a few minutes she had ascended out of that

clear field, in among the piled mountains of cloud.

There was a melancholy wind, and the marshes were very dismal. A

stranger would have found them insupportable, and even to me they

were so oppressive that I hesitated, half inclined to go back. But,

I knew them well, and could have found my way on a far darker

night, and had no excuse for returning, being there. So, having

come there against my inclination, I went on against it.

The direction that I took, was not that in which my old home lay,

nor that in which we had pursued the convicts. My back was turned

towards the distant Hulks as I walked on, and, though I could see

the old lights away on the spits of sand, I saw them over my

shoulder. I knew the limekiln as well as I knew the old Battery,

but they were miles apart; so that if a light had been burning at

each point that night, there would have been a long strip of the

blank horizon between the two bright specks.

At first, I had to shut some gates after me, and now and then to

stand still while the cattle that were lying in the banked-up

pathway, arose and blundered down among the grass and reeds. But

after a little while, I seemed to have the whole flats to myself.

It was another half-hour before I drew near to the kiln. The lime

was burning with a sluggish stifling smell, but the fires were made

up and left, and no workmen were visible. Hard by, was a small

stone-quarry. It lay directly in my way, and had been worked that

day, as I saw by the tools and barrows that were lying about.

Coming up again to the marsh level out of this excavation - for the

rude path lay through it - I saw a light in the old sluice-house. I

quickened my pace, and knocked at the door with my hand. Waiting

for some reply, I looked about me, noticing how the sluice was

abandoned and broken, and how the house - of wood with a tiled roof

- would not be proof against the weather much longer, if it were so

even now, and how the mud and ooze were coated with lime, and how

the choking vapour of the kiln crept in a ghostly way towards me.

Still there was no answer, and I knocked again. No answer still,

and I tried the latch.

It rose under my hand, and the door yielded. Looking in, I saw a

lighted candle on a table, a bench, and a mattress on a truckle

bedstead. As there was a loft above, I called, "Is there any one

here?" but no voice answered. Then, I looked at my watch, and,

finding that it was past nine, called again, "Is there any one

here?" There being still no answer, I went out at the door,

irresolute what to do.

It was beginning to rain fast. Seeing nothing save what I had seen

already, I turned back into the house, and stood just within the

shelter of the doorway, looking out into the night. While I was

considering that some one must have been there lately and must soon

be coming back, or the candle would not be burning, it came into my

head to look if the wick were long. I turned round to do so, and

had taken up the candle in my hand, when it was extinguished by

some violent shock, and the next thing I comprehended, was, that I

had been caught in a strong running noose, thrown over my head from

behind.

"Now," said a suppressed voice with an oath, "I've got you!"

"What is this?" I cried, struggling. "Who is it? Help, help, help!"

Not only were my arms pulled close to my sides, but the pressure on

my bad arm caused me exquisite pain. Sometimes, a strong man's

hand, sometimes a strong man's breast, was set against my mouth to

deaden my cries, and with a hot breath always close to me, I

struggled ineffectually in the dark, while I was fastened tight to

the wall. "And now," said the suppressed voice with another oath,

"call out again, and I'll make short work of you!"

Faint and sick with the pain of my injured arm, bewildered by the

surprise, and yet conscious how easily this threat could be put in

execution, I desisted, and tried to ease my arm were it ever so

little.