CHAPTER XXVI.
JULIAN.
Next day, a fine summer afternoon, when our feeble convalescents had gone out together, they found the fresh air so invigorating, and themselves so much stronger, that they prolonged their walk half-way to Oxton.

The pasture-meadows, rich and rank, were alive with flocks and herds; the blue sea lazily beat time, as, ticking out the seconds, it melodiously broke upon the sleeping shore; the darkly-flowing Mullet swept sounding to the sea between its tortuous banks; and upon that old high foot-path skirting the stream, now shady with hazels, and now flowery with meadow-sweet, crept our chastened pair.
Just as they were nearing a short angle in the river, the spot where Charles had been preserved, they noticed for the first time a rough-looking fisherman, who, unseen, had tracked their steps some hundred yards; he had a tarpaulin over his shoulder, very unnecessarily, as it would seem, on so fine and warm a day; and a slouching sou'-wester, worn askew, flapped across the strange man's face.
He came on quickly, though cautiously, looking right and left; and Emily trembled on her guardian's feeble arm.

Yes--she is right; the fisherman approaches--she detects him through it all: and now he scorns disguise; flinging off his cap and the tarpaulin, stands before them--Julian! "So, sir--you tremble now, do you, gallant general: give me the girl." And he levelled at his father one of those double-barrelled pistols, full-cock.
"Julian, my son, I forgive you, Julian; take my hand, boy." "What--coward?
now you can cringe, and fawn, eh?
back with you!--the girl, I say." For poor Emily, wild with fear, was clinging to that weak old man.
Julian levelled again; indeed, indeed it was only as a threat; but his hand shook with passion--the weapon was full-cock, hair-triggered--shotted heavily as always--hark, hark!--And his father fell upon the turf, covered with blood! When a wicked man tampers with unintended crime, even accident falls out against him.

Many a one has richly merited death for many other sins, than that isolated, haply accidental one which he has hanged for.
Julian, horror-stricken, pale and trembling, flew instinctively to help his father: but Emily has circled him already with her arms; and listen, Julian--your dying father speaks to you.
"Boy, I forgive--I forgive: but--Emily, no, no, cannot, cannot be--Julian--she--she is your _sister_!" and the old man swooned away, from loss of blood and the excitement of that awful scene.
Not a word in reply said that poor sinner, maddened with his life-long crimes, the fratricide in will, the parricide in deed, and all for--a sister.

But growing whiter as he stood, a marble man with bristling hair, he slowly drew the other pistol from his pocket, put the muzzle to his mouth, and, firing as he fell, leapt into the darkly-flowing Mullet! The current, all too violent to sink in, and uncommissioned now to save, hurried its black burden to the sea; and a crimson streak of gore marked the track of the suicide.
The old man was not dead; but a brace of bullets taking effect upon his feeble frame--one through the shoulder, and another which had grazed his head--had been quite enough to make him seem so.