Julia escaped the interview that she dreaded; for, just as they entered
the hall, there was the thudding of horses' feet coming over the road,
and Hallam came out of his room with a curious startled look in his
face, to catch Crellock by the arm.
"There's something wrong, Steve," he whispered hoarsely; "a stranger
coming up, and the Captain with him."
"Bah! You shivering coward," said Crellock, with a look of contempt
which made Julia bite her lip, though she could not hear the words.
"You have drunk bad brandy till you see a warder in every man who comes
to the house. Have a little pluck in you, if you can."
The door was opened directly without ceremony by Captain Otway, who held
it back for his companion, who had just dismounted, to enter.
"Sorry to intrude so unceremoniously, Miss Hallam," said the Captain,
ignoring the presence of the two men, "but I met my friend here coming
up, Mr Woodhouse, our doctor."
Julia bowed, and the doctor, a little, rubicund-looking man, took off
his cap.
"I'm a bit of a vulture in my way," he said pleasantly. "I always mount
and come out to see whenever anything of this kind goes on. Which room,
please?" he added quickly. "I want to get back."
Julia hastily opened the door, and was about to follow them, but the
doctor said quietly:
"No, no. You shall hear how he is afterwards."
Julia coloured, for the visitor spoke in a very meaning tone; and,
leaving the hall, she hurried to her mother's side, while Hallam angrily
backed into his room, followed by Crellock.
"They treat me as if I were nobody," he cried, grinding his teeth; and
then going to a cupboard he took out a bottle and glass, poured out some
liquid and drank it off with a sigh of relief.
"Yes," said Crellock slowly; "they don't forget about our past, old
fellow. Never mind. No, thank you: I promised Julie to leave the stuff
alone;" and he thrust back the offered glass.
"You promised her that?" said Hallam.
"Yes, and I'm going to keep my word. Hang it, Bob Hallam, I wouldn't
drink myself into such a wreck as you're getting to be for the whole
world."
The spirit was rapidly giving Hallam temporary confidence, and he turned
upon his companion sharply.
"Don't speak to me like that," he said, "or you'll regret it."
"Don't speak to you like that?" retorted Crellock, scornfully. "Bah! I
shall speak as I please. Look here, Robert Hallam, some of us must be
masters, some servants. You've made yourself servant, so keep your
place. I'm not going to be turned out of my purpose by a little Dutch
courage."
Hallam came at him furiously, but Crellock took him by the shoulders and
thrust him back into his chair, and then stood over him.
"It won't do, old fellow," he said; "the nerve has gone, and the more
you drink to get it up, the weaker it grows. Now then, we understand
each other, so let's settle this matter quietly, and get it over. No
more excuses; no more shuffling. Understand me, I don't mean to wait.
What's that?"
It was the voice of Captain Otway summoning some one to come; and Julia,
who had been anxiously waiting, hastened down at the same time as Thisbe
hurried to the room.
"The doctor wants to give a few instructions," he said. "Eaton is going
on all right, but he thinks he had better not be moved to-night, Miss
Hallam, so we must beg your hospitality till to-morrow."
"And there is no danger?" said Julia eagerly.
"Not if he is kept quiet," said the doctor, putting on his gloves. "Let
him sleep all he can. Some one ought to sit up with him to-night."
"I'll do that," said Crellock, who had been standing in the doorway.
Julia started slightly, but Crellock's countenance was quite unmoved.
"That will do," said the doctor. "Come, Otway."
The latter raised his cap, and they left the house.
"I don't much like leaving Eaton with a ticket-of-leave man for nurse,"
said the Captain, as they descended the hill towards their quarters.
"Oh, he'll be right enough there," replied the doctor chuckling. "The
young lady will take care of him. I say, does Phil mean to marry her?"
"I don't know," said Otway shortly. "Let's get on."
They hurried away, and for the next two hours the doctor was busy with
the injured people; the convicts being safe in the prison, groaning over
their wounds and the ill-success of their attempt.
Julia felt a strange anxiety about their patient, as the night drew
near; and her anxiety was increased by the behaviour of Mrs Hallam,
who, after keeping her room for some days, declared herself well enough
to come down.
Opposition from Thisbe and her child was useless, and she descended to
sit with the latter, watching by Eaton's couch, which was made up for
him in the dining-room, where he lay apparently insensible to all that
was going on around.
It was a strange afternoon and evening, the excitement of the early
portion of the day having unnerved every one in the house. The meals
were partaken of hastily, and the attention of all was centred on the
sleeping man in the dining-room.
Julia, in her anxiety, was for staying with Thisbe and continuing the
watch; but Crellock showed that he had not forgotten his promise, and a
nameless dread took possession of the girl's breast.
She told herself that it was absurd--that in spite of his roughness
there seemed to be something genuine about her father's companion; but,
all the same, her dread increased, and it was the more painful, that she
did not dare to communicate it to Mrs Hallam.
In fact, she was at a loss to explain her reasons for feeling alarmed to
herself. Eaton seemed to be sleeping comfortably, and Crellock, when he
came into the room, was gentle and respectful, more than was his wont.
"You two had better go to bed," said Hallam at last roughly; and, pale
and troubled looking, Mrs Hallam rose without a word, took Julia's
hand, and they left the room, but not to sleep; while Crellock's watch
began by his taking a candle, snuffing it, and holding it down close to
Eaton's face, scanning his features well before setting it on the
chimney-piece, lighting a cigar, and going out into the verandah, to
walk up and down, thinking deeply.
Sometimes he stopped to lean his arms on the wooden rail, and stare up
at the great mellow stars that burned in the deep purple sky; but only
to start as from a dream, to go back into the room, and see if the
wounded man had moved.
When in the verandah he ground his teeth and clenched his hands.
"The fools!" he muttered; "they might have hit a little harder, and
then--Pooh! what does he matter?"
At the end of an hour he stole back softly into the room to look at the
sleeping man again.
"He's not much hurt," he muttered. "Who's there?"
"Only me," said Hallam, in a hoarse whisper. "Just coming to see how
you were getting on."
"No, you were not. You were watching me," said Crellock, in an angry
whisper. "Did you think I was going to kill him--to get him out of the
way?"
"No, no. Nothing of the kind, my dear boy," whispered Hallam. "There,
I'll go back to my room."
"You'll go up to bed," said Crellock firmly. "You've been drinking too
much."
"Indeed, no. Just a little to steady me."
"You go up to bed," said Crellock, taking him by the shoulder. "I'm not
going to have my dear father-in-law elect drive himself mad with brandy.
Come, no nonsense! Bed!"
Hallam made a few feeble protests, and then suffered himself to be led
up to his bedroom, Julia and Mrs Hallam sitting trembling in the next,
and watching the light flash beneath their door, as they listened to the
ascending and descending steps, followed by a rustling in Hallam's room,
the low angry muttering he indulged in, and then there was silence once
again.
A quarter of an hour passed, and they were listening to the heavy,
stertorous breathing, when a soft tap came at their door, the handle was
turned, and Thisbe appeared.
"I only came to see if you were both quite safe," she said. "I could
not sleep."
"Dear old Thisbe," said Julia, kissing her.
"Do, do, please go to bed, my dears," said Thisbe. "I'll sit and watch
by you;" and at last, in obedience to her prayer, mother and daughter
lay down, but not to sleep, for the dread of some impending calamity
that they fancied was about to befall them.
Meanwhile Crellock had returned to the dining-room and examined the
wounded man again.
"It wouldn't be hard," he said to himself, with a laugh. "He is half
killed, so it would only be half a murder. Why shouldn't I? He would
be out of his misery; and that drunken wretch gave me the credit of
being about to do it."
He stood gazing down at the sleeping face faintly seen by the
candle-light; and then turned away to go out through the glass door, and
pace the verandah again.
"I wonder whether that's what they call a temptation," he thought. "It
would be very easy, and then--"
He stopped to lean over the rails again, and gaze before him out into
the night.
"No," he said softly. "I told the little lass I wouldn't drink again,
so as to be more fit to come nigh her, and I don't think I should do to
go nigh her if I killed that spark of a fellow so as to be sure of
getting a wife. It's curious what a woman can do," he went on musing.
"They can make anything of a man--go through fire and water to get her,
but it must be fire and water such as she'd be glad to see me go
through. A year or so ago I'd got to that state with the prison life
and the lash, that I'd have given any soldier or warder a crack on the
head and killed him, and felt the happier for doing it. Since I've been
nigh her--since that day she hung over me, and gave me water, and wiped
the sweat from my face, I've seemed as if I must make myself cleaner
about the heart; and I have, all but the drink, and that was his fault,
for he was never happy when he wasn't forcing it on one.
"No, my fine fellow," he said with a sigh, "you're safe enough for me.
I won't hurt you; and as to her liking you--bah! If she does, I'll soon
make her forget that."
He took a cigar from his pocket, and was in the act of placing it
between his lips when his gaze became fixed, and he stood staring
straight before him.
"Who's there?" he said in a quick, sharp whisper. "I can see you. You
there!"
He sprang over the rail, and his hand went by old habit into his pocket
in search of a weapon; but the answer that came disarmed him.
"It is I."
"What are you doing here in the middle of the night?" cried Crellock.
"I am watching," said Bayle.
"Yes," cried Crellock wearily. "Me, I suppose. Well, what have you
seen? Do you think I was going to finish young Eaton? There--speak
out."
"I came up because I could not sleep," said Bayle quietly. "I was
anxious about my friends. How is Mr Eaton?"
"Go in and see," said Crellock roughly; and he led the way through the
verandah.
Bayle made no reply, but walked straight to the couch, after taking the
candle from the chimney-piece, and examined the injured man.
"He is sleeping comfortably and well," he said in a whisper, as he
replaced the candle.
"Of course he is," sneered Crellock. "You seem very fond of him."
Bayle paid no heed to his manner, but stood as if thinking. "Well, are
you going to stop? Have a cigar?"
"I will stay and watch with you if you are tired, and relieve you for an
hour or two," said Bayle, at last.
"I'm not tired. You can stop if you like. You won't find me very good
company." Bayle walked to the couch again, and stood looking down at
the handsome dimly-seen face for a few minutes, while, with an impatient
gesture, Crellock walked back into the verandah. At the end of a few
minutes Bayle joined him. "You are going to stay then?" said Crellock.
"No," replied Bayle, "I am going home."
"Better stop," sneered Crellock. "He'll be safer if you do. I might do
him some mischief."
"No, Stephen Crellock," said Bayle calmly, "I am not afraid of that; bad
as you are. Good-night."
Crellock started at the words "Bad as you are," but the friendly sound
of the "good-night" checked him.
"Good-night," he said, hoarsely; and he stood watching the dark figure
till it disappeared amongst the trees, and then paced the verandah, and
sat and smoked till morning.