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That night the girl's father killed himself, and the two were buried in the same grave. Cynthie " "Fingall! Fingall! Oh, Fingall!" "You hear? Yes, like that all the time as she sat on the floor, her hair about her like a cloud, and the dead bodies in the next room. She thought she had killed Fingall, and she knew now that he was innocent. The two were buried.
Just as I got inside the door, I saw the girl start back, and her hand drop, for she saw that it was Fingall; he was looking at her very strange. It was the rule to empty the gun into a man who had been sentenced; and already Fingall had heard his, 'God-have-mercy! The girl was to do it. "Fingall said to her in a muffled voice, 'Fire Cynthie! "I guessed what she would do.
Two men, lounging at a fire on a ledge of the hills, raised their eyes to the mountain-side beyond and above them, and one said presently: "The second time. It's a woman's voice, Pierre." Pierre nodded, and abstractedly stirred the coals about with a twig. "Well, it is a pity the poor Cynthie," he said at last. "It is a woman, then. You know her, Pierre her story?" "Fingall! Fingall! Oh, Fingall!"
She looked at both a moment, and her eyes settled on Pierre. Presently she held out her hand to him. "I knew you yesterday," she said. Pierre returned the intensity of her gaze with one kind and strong. "So so, Cynthie," he said; "sit down and eat." He dropped on a knee and drew a scone and some fish from the ashes.
Lawless could not bear to look long, for the fire that consumes a body and sets free a soul is not for the sight of the quick. At last she rose, her body steady, but her hands having that tremulous activity of her eyes. "Will you not stay, Cynthie?" asked Lawless very kindly.
It was morning, and Whitefaced Mountain shone clear and high, without a touch of cloud or mist from its haunches to its crown. They knocked at the hut door, and, in answer to a voice, entered. The sunlight streamed in over a woman, lying upon a heap of dried flowers in a corner. A man was kneeling beside her. They came near, and saw that the woman was Cynthie.
Just as I got inside the door, I saw the girl start back, and her hand drop, for she saw that it was Fingall; he was looking at her very strange. It was the rule to empty the gun into a man who had been sentenced; and already Fingall had heard his, 'God-have-mercy! The girl was to do it. "Fingall said to her in a muffled voice, 'Fire Cynthie! "I guessed what she would do.
"But," said Lawless, not heeding the scene, "what about that sixth bullet?" "Holy, it is plain! Fingall did not fire the shot. His revolver was full, every chamber, when Cynthie first took it." "Who killed the lad?" "Can you not guess? There had been words between the father and the boy: both had fierce blood.
Only six chambers were in the gun, and of course one chamber was empty. Fenn had its bullet in his lungs, as we thought. So someone beside Cynthie touched her arm, pushing it down. But there was another shot, and this time, because of the push, the bullet lodged in Fingall's skull." Pierre paused now, and waved with his hand towards the mist which hung high up like a canopy between the hills.
Only six chambers were in the gun, and of course one chamber was empty. Fenn had its bullet in his lungs, as we thought. So someone beside Cynthie touched her arm, pushing it down. But there was another shot, and this time, because of the push, the bullet lodged in Fingall's skull." Pierre paused now, and waved with his hand towards the mist which hung high up like a canopy between the hills.
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