Up the bank they went fifty yards and more, now lost where the turf was sound, now seen in sand or loam, till they led to the bole of a big oak, and were once more mixed together, for here the pursuer had come up with the pursued.
Despairingly as one who dreams, for now I guessed all and grew mad with fear, I looked this way and that, till at length I found more footsteps, those of the Spaniard.

These were deep marked, as of a man who carried some heavy burden.

I followed them; first they went down the hill towards the river, then turned aside to a spot where the brushwood was thick.

In the deepest of the clump the boughs, now bursting into leaf, were bent downwards as though to hide something beneath.

I wrenched them aside, and there, gleaming whitely in the gathering twilight was the dead face of my mother..