It was a close race, and Mary Salis felt that, ere many minutes had
passed, the strange force which had nerved her so that she had traversed
the distance between the two houses, and then enabled her to go through
the scene which followed, would fail; but still she struggled on, with
their pursuers gaining so rapidly that the gate which gave upon the
meadows had hardly been passed and dashed to, and the feeling that at
last they were in comparative safety, given her fresh strength, when the
two keepers came up, and without hesitation threw open the gate, and
followed into the Rectory orchard.
Joe Chegg had lowered his burden on to the ground as the men reached the
gate.
"What'll I do, miss?"
"Stand by me," panted Mary, stooping to catch Horace's hand in hers; and
then, sinking on one knee, she held to it tightly with both her own.
"Stand by you, miss?" cried Joe. "Yes; I'll do that; but you run and
call for help."
"No, no," cried Mary; "I will not go."
"Now, then," cried Joe, "what is it? You know you're a-trespassing
here?"
"You get out," growled one of the men; and he thrust the sturdy young
fellow roughly aside.
It was a mistake on the keeper's part, for Joe Chegg's father was a
Bilston man, notorious in his time for the pugnacity of his life.
His mantle, or rather his disposition to take off his coat, had fallen
upon his son, and the result of the rude thrust was that Joe Chegg
rebounded so violently that the keeper went staggering back, and by the
time he recovered, and his companion was about to join in the attack,
Joe had proved himself to be the son of his father, for his coat was
lying on the ground.
This was awkward. The keepers were accustomed to tussles with insane
patients, and they were ready for a fight with Horace North, and to do
anything to force him into the carriage waiting at the Manor House. But
Joe Chegg was sane, sturdy, and had begun to square.
A fight with the stout young Warwick man was not in their instructions,
and they called a parley.
"Look here, miss," said the one who had been struck surlily; "just call
your bulldog off. We don't want no trouble, and you're doing a very
foolish thing; so let us do our dooty and go."
As he spoke he advanced, but a feint from Joe made him flinch, though he
gave the young fellow a very ugly look.
"This is an outrage," cried Mary, rising and speaking now firmly. "What
does it mean?"
"It means, madam," said a voice, as the tall, dark medical man who had
visited twice at the Manor now came upon the scene, after a very hurried
walk through the meadows--"it means, madam," he repeated, for he was
breathless, "that Dr North is not in a fit condition to be at large."
"It is not true!" cried Mary indignantly; though the recollection of
what she had witnessed made her quail.
"It is quite true, madam; and his nearest friends have taken steps to
have him placed under proper treatment, where he can be restored to
health."
"Where what little reason left to him will be wrecked," something seemed
to say within Mary; and she held on more tightly to North's hand.
"There, madam," said the doctor; "I have explained this to you, but I
will also add, so that there may be no further unpleasantry, that all
these steps have been taken after proper advice, and in strict legal
manner. Now, be kind enough to let my men assist the patient to rise,
and let us get this sad matter settled as quickly as we can."
Mary wavered, and the doctor saw it.
"Jones," he said, "you go and get the carriage round here. It will be
much the shortest way."
"Dr North is a very old and dear friend of ours," said Mary, recovering
herself, and speaking with dignity; "and I cannot stand by, in my
brother's absence, and see what seems to me to be an outrage committed."
"Ah, your brother is away," said the doctor. "It is a pity, for
gentlemen are better to deal with than ladies in a case like this.
There, my dear madam, pray accept my assurances that everything is
right, and that Dr North will be taken the greatest care of, and
restored to you soon perfectly sane and well. Pray be good enough to
stand aside."
"No," cried Mary firmly; "he shall not go."
"Just say the word, miss," whispered Joe Chegg.
"Jones!" shouted the doctor; "come back!"
The second keeper, who was nearly through the orchard, came back, and it
was a case of three to one; but Joe Chegg was not intimidated.
"Look here," he said. "Miss Salis says he isn't to go, and you're
trespassing here. Hi! you Dally Watlock!" he shouted, as he caught
sight of the little maid coming down the orchard; "you let loose that
there dog."
Dally hesitated while, in response to a word from the doctor, the
keepers advanced; and they would have succeeded in their task--Joe
Chegg's brave efforts being doomed to failure by the baffling movements
of the well-dressed doctor, whom he hesitated to strike--but succour
arrived in the person of Salis, who came running down the orchard,
red-faced and excited.
The odds were so reduced that a fresh parley ensued, the doctor giving
his explanations now once more in answer to the indignant questions of
Salis:
"How dare you insult my sister?" followed by another, "How dare you
insult my friend?"
"Law or no law, sir," cried Salis, at last, "Dr North is on my
premises, where, so to speak, he has taken sanctuary. You are acting at
the wish of Mr Thompson?"
The doctor bowed.
"Then fetch Mr Thompson here."
"Really, sir--" began the doctor.
"That will do, sir," cried Salis. "You have heard my decision. If the
law forces me to give up my friend, I may be compelled; but I will not
give him up to you and these men now. Chegg, see these persons off the
Rectory grounds."
There was no help for it. A struggle would have resulted in the raising
of the village, and, shrugging his shoulders, the doctor beat an
ignominious retreat with his men.
"Mary!" exclaimed Salis, now for the first time realising the miracle
that seemed to have occurred; "is this you?"
The poor girl did not speak, but stood gazing at him with her eyes
growing dim, while before he could catch her she sank, first upon her
knees, and then forward with her head upon North's breast, while her
soft, fair hair escaped from the bands which held it, and fell loosely
about her marble face.
Volume 3, Chapter XXI.