Iwillteachyoutocomekissinghonestmen’sdaughterswithouttheirleave，’andwithacurseherushedatme，stickaloft，tothrashme。
　　Thenforthesecondtimethatdaymyquickbloodboiledinme，andsnatchinguptheSpaniard’sswordthatlayuponthegrassbesideme，Ihelditatthepoint，forthegamewaschanged，andIwhohadfoughtwithcudgelagainstsword，mustnowfightwithswordagainstcudgel。
　　AndhaditnotbeenthatLilywithaquickcryoffearstruckmyarmfrombeneath，causingthepointoftheswordtopassoverhisshoulder，IbelievetrulythatIshouldthenandtherehavepiercedherfatherthrough，andendedmydaysearlywithanooseaboutmyneck。
　　’Areyoumad？’shecried。
　　’Anddoyouthinktowinmebyslayingmyfather？
　　Throwdownthatsword，Thomas。’
　　’Asforwinningyou，itseemsthatthereissmallchanceofit；’I
　　answeredhotly，’butItellyouthis，notforthesakeofallthemaidsupontheearthwillIstandtobebeatenwithasticklikeascullion。’
　　’AndthereIdonotblameyou，lad，’saidherfather，morekindly。
　　’Iseethatyoualsohavecouragewhichmayserveyouingoodstead，anditwasunworthyofmetocallyou“pill-box“inmyanger。
　　Still，asIhavesaid，thegirlisnotforyou，sobegoneandforgetherasbestyoumay，andifyouvalueyourlife，neverletmefindyoutwokissingagain。
　　Andknowthatto-morrowIwillhaveawordwithyourfatheronthismatter。’
　　’IwillgosinceImustgo，’Ianswered，’but，sir，Istillhopetolivetocallyourdaughterwife。
　　Lily，farewelltillthesestormsareoverpast。’
　　’Farewell，Thomas，’shesaidweeping。
　　’ForgetmenotandIwillneverforgetmyoathtoyou。’
　　ThentakingLilybythearmherfatherledheraway。
　　Ialsowentaway——sad，butnotaltogetherill-pleased。
　　FornowI
　　knewthatifIhadwonthefather’sanger，Ihadalsowonthedaughter’sunalterablelove，andlovelastslongerthanwrath，andhereorhereafterwillwinitswayatlength。
　　WhenIhadgonealittledistanceIrememberedtheSpaniard，whohadbeencleanforgottenbymeinallthisloveandwar，andIturnedtoseekhimanddraghimtothestocks，thewhichIshouldhavedonewithjoy，andbeengladtofindsomeoneonwhomtowreakmywrongs。
　　ButwhenIcametothespotwhereIhadlefthim，Ifoundthatfatehadbefriendedhimbythehandofafool，fortherewasnoSpaniardbutonlythevillageidiot，BillyMinnsbyname，whostoodstaringfirstatthetreetowhichtheforeignerhadbeenmadefast，andthenatapieceofsilverinhishand。
　　’Whereisthemanwhowastiedhere，Billy？’Iasked。
　　’Iknownot，MasterThomas，’heansweredinhisNorfolktalkwhichIwillnotsetdown。
　　’Half-waytowheresoeverhewasgoingI
　　shouldsay，measuredbythepaceatwhichheleftwhenonceIhadsethimuponhishorse。’
　　’Yousethimonhishorse，fool？
　　Howlongwasthatago？’
　　’Howlong！
　　Well，itmightbeonehour，anditmightbetwo。
　　I’mnoreckoneroftime，thatkeepsitsownscorelikeaninnkeeper，withoutmyhelp。
　　Lawks！howhedidgallopoff，workingthoselongspursheworerightintotheribsofthehorse。
　　Andlittlewonder，poorman，andhedaft，notbeingabletospeak，butonlytobleatsheeplike，andfallenuponbyrobbersontheking’sroads，andinbroaddaylight。
　　ButBillycuthimlooseandcaughthishorseandsethimonit，andgotthispieceforhisgoodcharity。
　　Lawks！buthewasgladtobegone。
　　Howhedidgallop！’
　　’NowyouareabiggerfooleventhanIthoughtyou，BillyMinns，’I
　　saidinanger。
　　’Thatmanwouldhavemurderedme，Iovercamehimandmadehimfast，andyouhavelethimgo。’
　　’Hewouldhavemurderedyou，Master，andyoumadehimfast！
　　ThenwhydidyounotstoptokeephimtillIcamealong，andwewouldhavehaledhimtothestocks？
　　Thatwouldhavebeensportandall。
　　Youcallmefool——butifyoufoundamancoveredwithbloodandhurtstiedtoatree，andhedaftandnotabletospeak，hadyounotcuthimloose？
　　Well，he’sgone，andthisaloneisleftofhim，’andhespunthepieceintotheair。
　　Now，seeingthattherewasreasoninBilly’stalk，forthefaultwasmine，Iturnedawaywithoutmorewords，notstraighthomewards，forIwishedtothinkaloneawhileonallthathadcomeaboutbetweenmeandLilyandherfather，butdownthewaywhichrunsacrossthelanetothecrestoftheVineyardHills。
　　Thesehillsareclothedwithunderwood，inwhichlargeoaksgrowtowithinsometwohundredyardsofthishousewhereIwrite，andthisunderwoodispiercedbypathsthatmymotherlaidout，forshelovedtowalkhere。
　　OneofthesepathsrunsalongthebottomofthehillbytheedgeofthepleasantriverWaveney，andtheotherahundredfeetormoreaboveandnearthecrestoftheslope，ortospeakmoreplainly，thereisbutonepathshapedliketheletterO，placedthus[symbolofOlayingonitssideomitted]，thecurvedendsofthelettermarkinghowthepathturnsuponthehill-side。
　　NowIstruckthepathattheendthatisfurthestfromthishouse，andfollowedthathalfofitwhichrunsdownbytheriverbank，havingthewaterononesideofitandthebrushwoodupontheother。
　　AlongthislowerpathIwandered，myeyesfixedupontheground，thinkingdeeplyasIwent，nowofthejoyofLily’slove，andnowofthesorrowofourpartingandofherfather’swrath。
　　AsIwent，thuswrappedinmeditation，Isawsomethingwhitelyinguponthegrass，andpusheditasidewiththepointoftheSpaniard’ssword，notheedingit。
　　Still，itsshapeandfashioningremainedinmymind，andwhenIhadleftitsomethreehundredpacesbehindme，andwasdrawingneartothehouse，thesightofitcamebacktomeasitlaysoftandwhiteuponthegrass，andIknewthatitwasfamiliartomyeyes。
　　Fromthething，whateveritmightbe，mymindpassedtotheSpaniard’sswordwithwhichIhadtosseditaside，andfromtheswordtothemanhimself。
　　Whathadbeenhisbusinessinthisparish？——anillonesurely——andwhyhadhelookedasthoughhefearedmeandfallenuponmewhenhelearnedmyname？
　　Istoodstill，lookingdownward，andmyeyesfelluponfootprintsstampedinthewetsandofthepath。
　　Oneofthemwasmymother’s。
　　Icouldhavesworntoitamongathousand，fornootherwomaninthesepartshadsodelicateafoot。
　　Closetoit，asthoughfollowingafter，wasanotherthatatfirstIthoughtmustalsohavebeenmadebyawoman，itwassonarrow。
　　ButpresentlyIsawthatthiscouldscarcelybe，becauseofitslength，andmoreover，thatthebootwhichleftitwaslikenonethatIknew，beingcutveryhighattheinstepandverypointedatthetoe。
　　Then，ofasudden，itcameuponmethattheSpanishstrangerworesuchboots，forI
　　hadnotedthemwhileItalkedwithhim，andthathisfeetwerefollowingthoseofmymother，fortheyhadtroddenonhertrack，andinsomeplaces，hisalonehadstampedtheirimpressonthesandblottingoutherfootprints。
　　Then，too，IknewwhatthewhiteragwasthatIhadthrownaside。
　　Itwasmymother’smantillawhichI
　　knew，andyetdidnotknow，becauseIalwayssawitsetdaintilyuponherhead。
　　Inamomentithadcomehometome，andwiththeknowledgeakeenandsickeningdread。
　　Whyhadthismanfollowedmymother，andwhydidhermantillaliethusupontheground？
　　IturnedandspedlikeadeerbacktowhereIhadseenthelace。
　　Allthewaythefootprintswentbeforeme。
　　NowIwasthere。
　　Yes，thewrappingwashers，andithadbeenrentasthoughbyarudehand；butwherewasshe？
　　WithabeatingheartoncemoreIbenttoreadthewritingofthefootsteps。
　　Heretheyweremixedonewithanother，asthoughthetwohadstoodclosetogether，movingnowthiswayandnowthatinstruggle。
　　Ilookedupthepath，buttherewerenone。
　　ThenIcastroundaboutlikeabeagle，firstalongtheriverside，thenupthebank。
　　Heretheywereagain，andmadebyfeetthatflewandfeetthatfollowed。
　　Upthebanktheywentfiftyyardsandmore，nowlostwheretheturfwassound，nowseeninsandorloam，tilltheyledtotheboleofabigoak，andwereoncemoremixedtogether，forherethepursuerhadcomeupwiththepursued。
　　Despairinglyasonewhodreams，fornowIguessedallandgrewmadwithfear，Ilookedthiswayandthat，tillatlengthIfoundmorefootsteps，thoseoftheSpaniard。
　　Theseweredeepmarked，asofamanwhocarriedsomeheavyburden。
　　Ifollowedthem；firsttheywentdownthehilltowardstheriver，thenturnedasidetoaspotwherethebrushwoodwasthick。
　　Inthedeepestoftheclumptheboughs，nowburstingintoleaf，werebentdownwardsasthoughtohidesomethingbeneath。
　　Iwrenchedthemaside，andthere，gleamingwhitelyinthegatheringtwilightwasthedeadfaceofmymother。
　　ForawhileIstoodamazedwithhorror，staringdownatthedeadfaceofmybelovedmother。
　　ThenIstoopedtoliftherandsawthatshehadbeenstabbed，andthroughthebreast，stabbedwiththeswordwhichIcarriedinmyhand。
　　NowIunderstood。
　　ThiswastheworkofthatSpanishstrangerwhomIhadmetashehurriedfromtheplaceofmurder，who，becauseofthewickednessofhisheartorforsomesecretreason，hadstriventoslaymealsowhenhelearnedthatIwasmymother’sson。
　　AndI
　　hadheldthisdevilinmypower，andthatImightmeetmyMay，I
　　hadsufferedhimtoescapemyvengeance，who，hadIknownthetruth，wouldhavedealtwithhimasthepriestsofAnahuacdealwiththevictimsoftheirgods。
　　Iunderstoodandshedtearsofpity，rage，andshame。
　　ThenIturnedandfledhomewardslikeonemad。
　　AtthedoorwayImetmyfatherandmybrotherGeoffreyridingupfromBungaymarket，andtherewasthatwrittenonmyfacewhichcausedthemtoaskaswithonevoice:
　　’Whatevilthinghashappened？’
　　ThriceIlookedatmyfatherbeforeIcouldspeak，forIfearedlesttheblowshouldkillhim。
　　ButspeakImustatlast，thoughI
　　chosethatitshouldbetoGeoffreymybrother。
　　’OurmotherliesmurderedyonderontheVineyardHill。
　　ASpanishmanhasdonethedeed，JuandeGarciabyname。’
　　Whenmyfatherheardthesewordshisfacebecamelividasthoughwithpainoftheheart，hisjawfellandalowmoanissuedfromhisopenmouth。
　　Presentlyherestedhishanduponthepommelofthesaddle，andliftinghisghastlyfacehesaid:
　　’WhereisthisSpaniard？
　　Haveyoukilledhim？’
　　’No，father。
　　HechanceduponmeinGrubswell，andwhenhelearnedmynamehewouldhavemurderedme。
　　ButIplayedquarterstaffwithhimandbeathimtoapulp，takinghissword。’
　　’Ay，andthen？’
　　’AndthenIlethimgo，knowingnothingofthedeedhehadalreadywroughtuponourmother。
　　AfterwardsIwilltellyouall。’
　　’Youlethimgo，son！
　　YouletJuandeGarciago！