OF THE HOME COMING OF HIS GRACE OF CLEEVE
FOR some moments I remained in the same attitude, staring fixedly in
the direction in which he had disappeared, and pondering upon his
words; then I retraced my steps to the hut. At the doorway I paused.
The old man had left his position in my absence and was now kneeling by
the earl’s side, apparently muttering something in his ear. Even as I
gazed he put his two hands upon his breast and lightly shook him.
Then I entered. “What is it? What are you doing there?” I cried.
At the sound of my voice he turned his head towards me but he did not
rise. “Aye, but ’tis a sad sight this,” he replied quaveringly. “There
will be sorrow at the manor when this is known.”
“You say true, old man,” I answered grimly. “There _will_ be sorrow
there--sorrow indeed!”
I crossed over to his side and stood staring for a moment at my late
companion. The colour had in some measure returned to his face and he
lay breathing heavily. I stooped and gently disengaged the ruby from
his finger, to slip it upon my own. Then I turned to leave the hut. I
had all but reached the door when the old man’s voice arrested me. He
had risen to his feet, and I noticed a subdued excitement in his voice
and manner; but of this I thought nothing at the time.
“You are going out?” he said slowly.
“Aye,” I answered. “Is there anything strange in that? I will myself
bear tidings of the earl’s misfortune to the manor. You say that yonder
road will take me to the village?”
“It runs direct,” he replied eagerly. “You cannot miss the way, and
’tis scarcely two miles distant.”
“Why, then,” I answered, “I shall start at once. In the meantime you
will watch over our friend there. He will sleep belike for many hours,
and see that you open not the door till my return. You understand?”
He nodded in assent, and without further word I went out closing the
door behind me.
Once upon the road I looked long and searchingly to the south. De Brito
had long since disappeared, and no figure of man or beast broke the
barren surface of the low hills. I turned my face resolutely northwards
and set out at a brisk pace for my destination, picturing to myself
the meeting with my lady and all that I should say. I must have been
walking for the half of an hour ere I caught sight of the head of
Cleevesborough, beyond which lay the village. Involuntarily I quickened
my steps at sight of it, and when some time later I had skirted round
its base, I found myself within a quarter of a mile of the church.
It behooved me then to proceed with more caution, and accordingly I
left the road and, forcing my way through the low hedge that bordered
it, I made my way slowly along in its shadow. When I had advanced
thus to within a hundred yards of the nearest house, which happened
indeed to be the inn, I paused to consider what course I should next
take. There were lights burning in the tavern, and the dark figures
of men showed through the open windows. For the rest, the village was
quiet enough, and even as I stood there hesitating the clock upon the
church struck ten. I had come to the decision of making a detour round
the village, and was about to put this plan into execution, when a
distant sound upon the road behind me brought me to a sudden halt. Far
away at present, but growing momentarily nearer, came the thud of a
horse’s hoofs. Crouching lower in the shadow of the hedge, I awaited
the appearance of the rider, a sudden suspicion crossing my mind that
it was De Brito following me, though with what purpose I could not
well divine. Two hundred yards away the road took a sudden bend, and
it was not until the rider had passed this point that I was enabled to
get a clear view of him in the moonlight. A single glance showed me
that it was not De Brito, but one who rode upon an errand of life and
death. The horse swayed ominously from side to side; the rider reeled
in his saddle. At a nearer approach I could see his face, white and
ghastly with mingled dust and weariness. And then, when within twenty
yards of the spot where I lay concealed, on a sudden horse and rider
came crashing to the ground, a widening pool of blood spreading from
the former’s mouth and nostrils telling its own tale. The horse had
been ridden literally to the death. Yet the man stayed but to cast one
glance at her and then staggered rather than walked in the direction
of the village.
’Twas then that, rising to my feet, I kept pace with him upon the
opposite side of the hedge, for I was determined to ascertain the
nature of his business. When he entered the courtyard of the inn I was,
all unperceived by him, close enough to hear what followed, though it
would have taken a sharp pair of eyes to have detected me in the deep
shadow cast by the building. The man made straight for the open door
before him, at the same time shouting hoarsely:
“Ho there, landlord! a cup of brandy and a horse, in the King’s name!”
His words drew a dozen heads to the windows and a moment later the
landlord himself appeared in the doorway. Over his shoulder I caught a
glimpse of my old acquaintance the steward.
“Who calls so late? What do you wish, friend?” said the landlord.
“Food, drink, and a horse, in the King’s name; for I have ridden my own
to the death, and must be in Exeter ere dawn,” the other answered.
“What!” cried the host. “You carry news belike?”
“News?” replied the other in a firmer tone. “Aye--news from Ireland.
Great news!--glorious news!”
Then raising his voice so that all might hear, he continued: “Three
days ago a great battle was fought upon the banks of the Boyne, in
which James’s army was totally defeated. By this time William is in
Dublin.”
For a moment there was a silence of sheer dismay following his words.
“And King James?” faltered the steward at length.
“The _late_ king thou meanest, friend,” said the other sternly.
“James Stuart fled from the field and, upbraiding those around him,
embarked at Kinsale and escaped to France, leaving those who were
worthy of a better leader to make their own submission. All fear of him
is at an end! God save King William!”
And faintly from the group behind came in echo, “God save King William!”
I waited to hear no more. Pressing my hat low upon my brow, I left the
shadow of the wall in which I had been standing and ran swiftly down
the village street. No one was abroad to question me; scarcely a light
showed in any of the houses on either side; and quickly as I knew the
news that I had heard would spread, for the present at least I had the
start of them.
Now to put my scheme of revenge into execution--to obtain an interview
with my lady.
At the end of the street I turned aside and plunged into the narrow
path leading through the woods. It was darker here beneath the trees,
though the moonlight filtered through the leaves and lay in silvery
patches at my feet. But with my heart growing hotter with revenge, the
nearer that I drew to its consummation, I pushed on, reckless of the
briars that clutched at me, as if they would have impeded my progress,
and cursing at every spreading root that tripped me up, and at the
sudden turnings of the path that, as often as not, precipitated me into
the bushes that skirted it on either side.
Upon arriving at the end of the wood I paused for a moment beneath
the shadow of the trees. There were lights in the lower windows of
the manor. Evidently the household had not yet retired for the night.
I loosened my sword in its sheath and made my way slowly along the
terrace, as once before I had done upon that memorable night when
I had surprised my lady and her Jacobite friends--to the latter’s
disadvantage. The windows of the dining hall were open, and arriving
safely at the nearest one, I cautiously peered into the room. In the
silence of the night I could hear the loud beating of my own heart;
for my lady herself was within a few feet of me! She was seated at the
spinet, and was, as far as I could see, alone. Her back was towards
me, and as yet she was all unconscious of my presence. Even as I
stood watching her, she swept her fingers over the keys and broke out
into a low, dreamy love-song, the passionate cadence of which held me
spellbound--forgetful of the errand that had brought me there. Nay
more, forgetful even of the insults I had suffered at this woman’s
hands; but with vague regrets rising within me, old memories awaking to
which my heart had long been a stranger.
The song ceased, the last sad echoes floated out to me and died away
upon the night, and my lady leaned her head upon her hand and remained
lost in reverie.
Bah! Was this Captain Cassilis, whose sword was known and feared
throughout the Lowlands, or was it some love-sick stripling enraptured
at the sound of his mistress’s voice? I passed my hand across my eyes,
for a sudden dimness had clouded their vision. Then I drew a long
breath and stepped into the room.
“Madam!” I said in a low voice. She did not turn her head.
“I wish for nothing,” she answered absently.
I saw that she took me for one of her servants and with a grim smile
I advanced a few steps towards her. “Yet I think, madam,” I replied,
“that it would be as well to give me your attention.”
She turned then indeed, and at sight of me she rose to her feet with a
cry of surprise.
“You?” she cried, the brilliant colour deserting her cheeks. “You here?”
“As you see, madam,” I answered with a mocking bow, my heart hardening,
all softer feelings deserting my breast. “No thanks to your ladyship,
however, that I am not at present bound for a French prison or for that
equally desirable place of residence--a Moorish galley.”
“Such being the case, sir,” she replied quickly, “why do you again
venture where at a word from me my servants will arrest you?”
“Because, madam,” I answered coolly, “circumstances have arisen that no
longer render your servants dangerous to me--and that also place your
ladyship in a somewhat unenviable position.”
“I do not understand you, sir,” she said coldly. “And I do not know
what sins I have committed that heaven should send me the degradation
of again having you beneath my roof; but if you have anything to say to
me, I pray you be as brief as possible.”
“Then I will come to the point, madam,” I answered calmly. “To be
brief, James has been signally defeated upon the banks of the Boyne,
and fled, like the craven he is, to lick the boots of his master Louis.
William is in Dublin. The star of the Stuarts is set for ever!”
She could not altogether suppress a start of surprise at my words; but
the next moment she had drawn herself erect and her eyes blazed with
scorn.
“It is not true!” she cried passionately. “It is not true! I will _not_
believe!” Yet her face had grown of marble whiteness.
“Madam,” I replied coolly, “that I again venture my person beneath
your roof should be sufficient warrant of the truth of my words. The
messenger has but just arrived in the village. More than that, in a few
minutes your own steward will be here to confirm my statement.”
“Yet,” she faltered, struggling against the conviction of the truth.
“But no--it is impossible! You are lying to me, sir,” she continued in
a firmer tone. “There were brave men, experienced soldiers, with James.
Would he be so base as to desert those who risked their lives and
fortunes for him?” I shrugged my shoulders carelessly.
“Do not deceive yourself, madam,” I made answer. “Carry your mind back
to the past. Hast James Stuart ever shown any consideration for others
when his own worthless life was in danger? The man who could steal away
from his palace by night, without striking one blow for his crown and
kingdom, would care little what fate befell those who had supported
him. Your own heart tells you that I speak the truth,” I ended quietly.
She raised her hand in a gesture half of protest. “And these
gentlemen?” she cried passionately. “Do you think, sir, that my brother
is a man to seek safety in flight? To desert those who have faithfully
followed him?”
“On the contrary,” I answered grimly--the moment of my triumph was very
near--“I _know_ that he did not.”
Something in my face must have attracted her attention, for I saw a
sudden look of fear creep into her eyes.
“You _know_?” she faltered. “_What_ do you know?”
“I am coming to that,” I answered. “There is a chair beside you. Will
you not be seated, madam?” I continued with mock politeness. “I fear
that the tidings I have brought have not been wholly welcome to you!”
She looked at me with something of her old look of repulsion;
nevertheless, I could see that she was strangely agitated as she sank
into the chair that I had indicated. I took a step nearer to her.
“When,” I commenced slowly, “two days ago, with the generosity
characteristic of you, you sent me on board that vessel, you imagined
that I had passed out of your life for ever. But there was one thing
you had omitted to take into consideration--the nature of the man with
whom you had to deal. I am no child to sit down and accept my fate with
folded hands, but a man skilful in resource, and of much experience.
Moreover, the debt between us is over heavy.”
“All this is superfluous, sir,” she interrupted. “If there is nothing
else for me to hear----?”
“Very well, madam,” I continued. “I forgot that this could have very
little interest for you. Suffice it, then, to say that I escaped from
this vessel at no small risk to myself, and drifted throughout the
night, without food, without shelter, in an open boat--alone.”
“Still, sir,” she said impatiently, half rising from her chair, “I do
not see the connection----”
I checked her with a movement of my hand. “I pray you hear me out,
madam,” I continued firmly. “I promise you that I shall not detain you
long. At daybreak this morning I was sighted by a small brig, whose
master thereupon bore down to my assistance and took me on board.
This little vessel I found had come from Ireland, and she carried one
passenger on board--a gentleman!”
I paused and gazed fixedly at my lady. She did not speak, but I heard
her catch her breath sharply, and again I saw that look of fear in her
eyes. I think that at last she had a suspicion of the truth.
“He was a very handsome gentleman, of a singularly noble presence; and
his face seemed in a manner to be familiar to me. This, again, can be
of little interest to you, madam.”
Again I paused; then I continued more slowly:--
“I will not dwell longer upon the events of the day, but will merely
state that some few hours ago, in the company of this gentleman, I
left the vessel. There were but our two selves in the boat, madam,
and by some misadventure it capsized in landing, whereby my companion
sustained somewhat severe injury.”
My lady gave a cry of pain, and again as I looked at her white, drawn
face I felt the same chill, shrinking sensation I had experienced in
the wood. But I resolutely put it from me and continued:
“I bore him in safety to the land, madam, and procuring assistance,
had him carried--but there, it cannot interest your ladyship where he
was carried; I left him in safe hands, however, and it was in passing
through the village on my way here that I learned the news that I have
already related to you.”
She had risen to her feet while I was speaking, and now faced me with
trembling limbs and heaving bosom.
“And--this--this gentleman?” she almost whispered.
I drew still nearer to her and met her gaze firmly. It was the moment
of my revenge.
“Is Cecil Ingram, Earl of Cleeve, whose life is forfeit upon English
soil, and whom one word of mine consigns--to the block!”
There was silence in the room--silence unbroken. Twice she raised her
hand to her throat and essayed to speak, but no words came from her
trembling lips. Then she swayed slightly so that she was fain to seek
the support of a small table that stood beside the chair in which
she had been sitting. I took a quick step towards her, for I thought
that she would fall; but she waived me back and struggled to regain a
momentary composure. Ah, my lady, my lady! If you had never suffered
in your life before, you suffered then, as there rose before your eyes
the vision of a ruined house--a fallen cause--a brother’s trial--the
Tower--the scaffold!
“The proof?” she gasped at length, her hands pressed to her bosom, her
eyes like those of an animal at bay. “The proof of what you say?”
“Is here,” I answered, unbuckling the rapier at my side and laying it
upon the table before her. “Doubtless you will recognise your brother’s
sword!”
She bent to scan the hilt, and a low moan of pain escaped her lips.
“Or if you seek still further evidence,” I continued relentlessly, “I
have that also. Do you know this ring, madam?” and I stripped the ruby
from my finger and held it out to her.
She took it from my hand, and even as she did so my thoughts flew back
to our first meeting in that very hall, when she had so scornfully
refused to accept the warrant of arrest from me; but now fear and
misfortune had broken down her pride. I suppose that the ring itself
was a family heirloom, for it required but a single glance for her to
recognise it.
“It is his ring--his ring!” she cried; then in a broken voice she
added: “God--help--us!”
Her trembling knees would no longer support her; she sank back into the
chair, and flinging out her arms upon the table, bowed her proud head
upon them and gave way to passionate weeping.
And I--I stood there by the table gazing down at her with a host of
conflicting emotions in my breast. The thought, indeed, crossed my mind
that this might be but another trick simulated to arouse my compassion;
but in a moment I put the idea from me. This was no pretence, but the
despairing sobs of one who had abandoned hope. And it was precisely
the one thing that I had not taken into account. That she would meet
me with anger and defiance I had taken for granted; that this attitude
would then give way to one of pleading I had also equally imagined and
had been prepared to gloat over her humiliation. But this hopeless
misery disarmed me. My lady proud, my lady scornful--that was but
natural, was but the fitting heritage of her birth and beauty. But my
lady in tears was a factor so improbable that it had never entered
into my calculations. As I stood, gazing upon her bowed head, minute
by minute I felt my former anger against her evaporating. And then on
a sudden, a strange thing happened. For before my eyes rose a vision
of my father long since dead. Of a manly, kindly hearted, stainless
gentleman, whose creed had been, “A gentleman’s word is his bond,”
and whose life had been spent in living up to those ideals which the
majority of men admire but disregard. Following this, came one of a
sweet-faced, gentle mother, gazing at me with sad, reproachful eyes--a
pure, spiritual face that seemed to stand between me and the object
of my vengeance, pleading with me to show mercy for the sake of their
common womanhood. How long the vision lasted I do not know, but I
uttered a stifled cry and covered my eyes with my hand. When I removed
the latter it was gone, and I saw only the brightly lighted room and
the stricken figure of the woman before me. But though my knees were
trembling and the perspiration gathered thickly on my forehead, a
strange new resolution was forming in my breast. I felt like a man
who had been snatched from the edge of a precipice, and I shuddered
to think how near I had come to the brink--how near I had come to
bartering man’s highest privilege--that of protection--for the sake
of an empty revenge. A revenge, too, directed by me--I, a strong man,
against a lady--a woman--God’s finished work!
My first feeling was one of overwhelming shame, but following hard upon
this a great pity filled my breast. Thank God I was still a gentleman!
“Madam!” I said gently, bending over the table.
She did not raise her head; her sobs had ceased; she was very still.
Something in her attitude attracted my attention. I passed round the
table and lightly touched her arm; then, meeting with no response, I
sank on my knees at her side and gently drew one arm from before her
face. It was as I had thought--she had fainted. Seeing this, I raised
her tenderly, so that her head rested upon the cushions of the chair;
then I fell to chafing her cold hands. And at this moment, as I knelt
with my lady’s hand in mine, there came the sound of hurried footsteps
in the hall, the door was flung wide open, and on the threshold stood
the Earl of Cleeve himself, and behind him Mistress Grace.
To say that I was surprised at the sudden appearance of the man whom
but an hour before I had left lying in the fisherman’s hut, to all
appearance grievously wounded, would but inadequately describe my
feelings. So astounded was I, that I remained staring up at him still
with my lady’s hand in mine. He had removed the bandage from his
forehead and the long, ragged scar showed plainly in the light.
“Your Grace?” I stammered; and again: “Your Grace?”
I rose to my feet and fell back a few paces. And as with a cry of fear
and compassion Mistress Grace hurried to her sister’s side, the earl
stepped forward and confronted me.
“Aye,” he answered, his voice stern and cold, his courteous manner
disappeared. “I suppose my unlooked-for appearance upsets your plans,
sir. I thank God I am in time to save my sister’s honour.”
I started as if I had received a blow.
“Her honour!” was all that I could stammer. “Her honour!”
“I have said it,” he answered coldly, at the same time possessing
himself of the sword which I had foolishly left upon the table. “The
old man yonder was no fool. I am acquainted with your unsavoury
reputation, and followed fast upon your heels. Once at the village
it was an easy matter to procure a horse.” In a moment I saw it all.
The old man must at some time have heard my name--doubtless when he
had been drinking at the inn. I remembered how that De Brito had used
it at our meeting in the hut; and this, coupled with the latter’s
uniform, had enabled him to put two and two together with a shrewdness
that I had not given him credit for. Of course it was all plain to me
now. After my departure he had found means to arouse the earl from
his swoon, and the latter had followed me with but little delay. I
cursed myself for my lack of foresight.
[Illustration: “On the threshold stood the Earl of Cleeve himself”]
“You are mad,” I answered, coming to myself. All those schemes which
were forming in my brain were shattered to pieces by his unlooked-for
appearance. “Mad to venture hither! Have you not heard----?”
“If you mean, sir, have I heard of the ruin of the cause to which I had
devoted my life, I answer that I have, both that and many things. And
I am here to perform a solemn duty. It is to rid the world of a very
dirty scoundrel.”
I felt the hot blood flush my brow.
“Your Grace,” I answered, striving to speak calmly, “if you will permit
me to explain----”
“Enough of words, sir,” he cried impatiently. “The honour of my house
is dear to me, and honour forbids that men like you should invade its
threshold and contrive such work as that!” He nodded as he spoke to
where my lady still remained, unconscious despite her sister’s efforts
to revive her.
“But,” I muttered, cudgelling my brains to discover some means whereby
I might evade him, “I have no quarrel with your Grace--and no sword.”
“For the first, sir,” he replied haughtily, “I am the best judge.
And for the second, ’tis a matter that can be easily remedied.” He
stepped quickly to the wall as he spoke, and took therefrom a beautiful
duelling rapier, which he measured beside his own. Then turning, he
held the two out to me.
“Choose which you will,” he said briefly.
Mechanically I took one from his hand, for my ears had caught a distant
sound from without, and I felt that I would welcome any interruption
at that moment that would give me a little time for thought. Nearer
now and nearer came the sound of a man’s running steps. They did not
pause at the outer entrance, but came right on across the hall, and
the next moment the steward burst into the room. His face was pale,
the perspiration stood out upon his brow, he panted so heavily that he
could scarcely speak.
“Fly, my lord, fly!” he gasped brokenly. “The dragoons are in the
village.”
“Dragoons?” I cried, starting.
“Aye,” he said excitedly, “Dutch dragoons from Meriden--a score of
them. They know that you are at the manor,” he continued, turning to
his master and wringing his hands helplessly. “In three minutes they
will be here. God help us all! We are undone!”
Meriden! In a flash I understood. Now I saw the meaning of De Brito’s
words. He had known to these troops being quartered there, and to
revenge himself upon me had gone to their commander. Whether he had
guessed the real quality of the wounded man or what tale he had
concocted I do not know; but it had been powerful enough to induce that
officer to send a force to the hut to investigate the matter. Arrived
there--well, the times were rough, and too well I knew their methods.
They had speedily discovered all they desired to know and had then
followed at top speed, hoping, doubtless, to pick up some share of the
reward. Truly there was no hope now, for the man before me.
All this had passed through my mind as it were in a moment. I was
roused by hearing the earl’s voice.
“Dragoons?” he was saying. “Yes--summoned by this gentleman!”
“It is not true!” I answered firmly. “Until now, your Grace, I was as
ignorant as you yourself that they were in the neighbourhood.”
“It matters little,” he replied sternly, drawing his rapier and
flinging the empty sheath from him. “I have still three minutes left to
me. I trust that in that time I shall kill you!” I stood hesitating,
for I knew not what to do. On a sudden Mistress Grace ran swiftly to
his side.
“Cecil, Cecil!” she cried in a voice of agony, “why do you linger here?
Why do you waste the precious moments? Fly--fly whilst there is time!
Did you not hear? In a few minutes it will be too late!”
“It is too late now,” he answered, “and I have other work to do!”
Down at his feet she flung herself and clung with her little hands
around his knees, so that for the moment he could not move.
“No, no!” she cried piteously, raising her tear-dimmed face to his.
“It is not yet too late--not yet! Cecil, I entreat--I implore you for
your own sake--for all our sakes--to save your life! The window is
open--they cannot see the way you go!”
“And leave this man to point them on my track,” he answered bitterly.
“You do not understand. My presence here is known. The whole
countryside would be searched. I am no Monmouth to be taken in a ditch.
And on my honour, I leave not Cleeve till I have fought this man.”
I looked at the firm, set face before me, and knew that though death
stared him in the face he would keep his word. His sister knew it also,
for with a low, moaning cry she released her hold. Then he strode
towards me.
“Draw, sir,” he cried. “Men credit you at least with skill in
swordplay.”
Then, seeing that I made no movement to lay hand to hilt, he added:
“Must I strike you to arouse your courage? Are you a coward, sir, as
well as a ruffian?”
But during the last few moments I had been thinking rapidly. I looked
to the past, and saw little there to cheer me or regret. I looked to
the future, and down the vista of the years to come I saw myself sink
ever lower until it might be some chance tavern brawl found me at
length a nameless grave. My glance wandered to my lady and----
“There is no need,” I answered quietly. “I will fight your Grace, but
not here, where at any moment we may be interrupted. As the person
challenged, I have the right of choosing the ground, and I claim my
right. At the foot of the cliff path leading to the beach there is a
level stretch of sand. That is the spot I choose.”
“As you will,” the earl answered. “I care not for the place, so it be
at once.” And he strode out through the open window.
But no sooner had he disappeared than the apathy that had held me
seemed to vanish. My brain was clear, my will unshaken. I stepped
swiftly to where Mistress Grace still knelt upon the floor, her face
buried in her hands.
“Listen,” I cried quickly, raising her gently to her feet. “You are
brave, madam--I am sure that you are brave. There is much depends upon
you. Try, then, to recover yourself--for your brother’s sake.”
She raised her face to mine. I know not what she read there, but on
a sudden I saw a new light flash into her eyes, and she laid her two
hands upon my breast.
“You,” she whispered--“you are going to save him!”
“With heaven’s help I am,” I answered quickly. “There is a chance
yet--it is a desperate one! Your part, madam, must be to hinder these
men as long as possible. Use your woman’s wit. Bid them search the
house. Delay them but ten minutes, and all may yet be well.”
“But my sister?” she faltered, casting a lingering glance at my lady’s
unconscious figure.
“You must act for her,” I said rapidly. “There is no time to lose.
Listen!”
I raised my hand to enjoin silence. Far away down the avenue came the
trampling of horse. “They are coming! Now, madam, will you trust me?”
She stretched out her hands impulsively. “With all our lives,” she
whispered.
I bowed my head in silence. I could not speak. Her sweet, womanly trust
in me was yet another link to bind me to my purpose. The next moment
she had left the room and I heard her close and bolt the heavy outer
door. Then I turned upon the steward.
“Answer,” I cried, taking him by the shoulders, “and briefly, man. Is
the boat still there below the cliff?”
“Yes,” he replied, catching something of my own energy.
“And know you of any craft in the harbour that would venture the coast
of France to-night for gold?”
“Aye,” he answered, “or for love of the master. Nevertheless, there is
the money collected last week from the rents----”
“Then fetch it,” I cried, interrupting him, “and follow to the beach.
Haste, man, haste! The precious moments are fleeting fast!”
Without a word he turned away, and left me standing in the centre of
the room. Then once again I drew near, it might be for the last time,
and gazed down into my lady’s lovely face, now so white and still. One
slender hand hung at her side. I stooped and, half timidly, put out my
own towards it. On a sudden, I know not why, a sense of my unworthiness
came over me. I bent lower still, and, raising the hem of her gown,
pressed it to my lips. Then I passed out into the night.