"Hasten on--hasten on!" The rattle of the train still repeating those
words, and Ella's heart sinking, as they sped through the darkness; for
still, in spite of her struggle with reason, it would seem as if they
were ever going back. Her brain seemed at times unable to support the
stress placed upon it--the excitement more than she could bear.
She gazed out upon the black night, but only to see in the dim
breath-blurred glass the interior of the carriage reproduced, with the
dark-blue cloth padding, the silent passengers, the globe lamp, and Max
Bray seated opposite, with his eyes glittering as if ready to spring at
her each instant. She could at any moment have succumbed, become weak
and helpless, and trembled at her forlorn condition; but the brave
spirit held up, although incipient fever was claiming her for its own,
and a strange unnatural throbbing in the pulses of her temple told where
the peril lay.
Plymouth at last!--the train's resting-place for the night; and again
quiet and thoughtful, Max engaged a fly, wrapper and luggage were placed
therein, and, quiet and gentlemanlike, he talked to her till they
reached one of the principal hotels, where Ella gladly sought her
chamber, and tried to find in sleep the relief from the mental strain
she so sadly needed.
But all through the early hours of that wintry morning came to torture
her the endless repetition of those words: "Hasten on--hasten on!" while
her burning head seemed chained to the pillow by links heated to
redness.
Again and again she started up, to gaze round the dark room, thinking
that a voice whose tones she so well remembered was calling her; but,
with a sigh, she sank back once more, to doze and listen in her sleep to
the endless warning, "Hasten on--hasten on!"
She descended to breakfast pale, restless, and excited. She could not
eat, though pressed again and again by Max, who was gentle and
attentive, asking with every show of consideration respecting her
health.
"I have made all arrangements and inquiries," he said, "and been down to
the station this morning. Our train leaves at ten."
"Not till ten?" she said in a disappointed tone.
He smiled as he drew forth his watch.
"It is half-past nine now," he said. "We have only time to get
comfortably down to the station."
Ella rose and left the room, to return in a few minutes ready to
continue the journey; but during her absence, Max had placed a letter in
the waiter's hand, with an accompanying half-sovereign.
"To be posted in a week's time," were the instructions.
"More wrecks down in the bay," said Max, as Ella re-entered the room.
"It has been a sad winter!"
"Let us--let us--hasten on," she said with an effort; and leading her
out, they were soon in the station, and secured their seats in an empty
compartment, where Ella took her place by the window, to gaze
abstractedly out at the damp sodden landscape for quite an hour.
"Have we far to go now?" she asked of Max, who sat watching her.
"Not much farther," he said.
And again she asked that question at the end of an hour, and of another
hour, but always to receive the same answer.
"Is it not less than a hundred miles from Plymouth to Penzance?" she at
length asked uneasily.
"Yes," he said; "but you are travelling now upon a line of rail where
stoppages are frequent and there is no speed. Bai Jove, though, they
ought to be prosecuted for dawdling so."
Max smiled as he said those words, for his plan was nearly ripe; and
that smile was not lost upon his companion. But she said nothing, only
sat there pale, excited, and watchful till another hour had elapsed,
during which time the well-fee'd guard had not intruded another
passenger.
But this could not last for ever. One moment silent and watchful, the
next moment with the full conviction of how she had been betrayed upon
her, Ella Bedford sprang up and tried to open the door, the train
dashing along at the rate of forty miles an hour.
There was a strong pair of hands upon her wrists, though, in an instant,
and she was forced back into her seat.
"Silly child!" exclaimed Max, with an insolent laugh. "What are you
going to do?"
"We are going back!" exclaimed Ella, struggling to free herself.
"Well, not exactly," he said, laughing, and now throwing off all
disguise.
"Where are you taking me?" she exclaimed.
"O, only into North Wales, my trembling little dove," laughed Max, as he
held his captive firmly in her place. "Now look here, little one: every
dog has his day. It is mine now, and I mean to make use of it. You
have braved and jilted me long enough, and it is my turn now. There,
you need not struggle; it is of no use. Let's quietly look at the state
of affairs. What have you done? Well, you've made an excuse to Mrs
Marter, something about going to see a sick friend, and, bai Jove--not
to put too fine a point on it--you have eloped with me, Maximilian Bray.
I've no doubt our dear friend Mrs Marter has sent word of it to Mrs
Brandon by this time. Mrs Brandon will tell the Brays of Lexville,
when Mrs Bray will be shocked, and my beloved papa will no doubt leave
me his curse; but, all the same, the Vinings will hear all about it. My
plan took a long time hatching, but, now it is hatched, it cuts
double-edged."
"Will you loose my wrists?" cried Ella faintly, "or am I to call for
assistance?"
"O, call if you like, my love; bai Jove, as much as you like! only you
may save yourself the trouble, for no one will hear you. What!" he
cried, laughing, "can the little gentle dove turn savage, and ruffle her
plumes and peck? Come, now, what is the use of being vicious? You have
thrown away that delicate little gossamer dress that ladies call fame,
so why not say pleasantly, `My dear Maximilian, let us be married at
once, and live happy ever after'? No, it's of no use; you are not going
to jump out on to the line to be broken up, I value you too much; and as
I told you before, it is of no use to scream. There's no dear Charley
Vining to come to your help, for he is too busy with his _fiancee_, my
sweet sister Laura. Now, come, sit still and listen. Are you going to
be reasonable? It's of no use to be angry because I brought you off so
cleverly; and bear in mind that I have been waiting months upon months,
with the patience of half-a-dozen Jobs, to bring this plan from the most
raw sourness to full ripening. Confound the girl! how strong she is!
Bai Jove, Ella, you are a little Tartar!"
Max Bray had talked on, and part of what he had said was understood; but
no explanation was needed. Ella Bedford knew one thing--that she had
been cruelly betrayed, and that she was in the hands of a brutal
heartless libertine, who, under the guise of a gentleman, possessed a
nature blacker than that of the lowest rough in London.
He spoke on, holding her wrists pinioned as he did so; but despair and
the fever fire in her blood gave her strength, and twice over it was
only by a desperate struggle that he was able to prevent her from
dashing herself through the open window.
She did not cry out, feeling that it would be useless; but her struggles
to escape from his pinioning hands were frantic, till there came a
warning shriek from the engine. The train drew up at a platform, and as
Max started back into his seat, the carriage-door opened, and Ella
Bedford fainted.
"Taken ill," said Max in explanation. "Half mad, bai Jove! Hard work
to keep her from dashing out of the window. Most painful thing."
"Friend or stranger?" said the newcomer, suspiciously watching the
countenance of Max.
"Friend or stranger!" said Max. "Bai Jove, that's cool. My wife--
travelling for pleasure."
"I beg pardon, I'm sure," said the stranger; "but I should certainly
alight at the next station. Your pleasure-travel is over, sir, and you
must get all the medical aid you can, for your lady is in a high state
of fever."
"Fever!" cried Max, involuntarily shrinking.
"Yes," said the other, with a look of contempt. "But you need not fear,
sir; I should say it is the brain. The lady has evidently suffered from
some severe mental strain."
"Bai Jove!" ejaculated Max; "are you a doctor?"
"No, sir; only an old Indian officer; but I have seen sufficient illness
to know a case of fever when I see one."
"Bai Jove!" exclaimed Max again; and then he sat helpless and frowning,
while the stranger laid back the poor girl's head that she might breathe
more freely, and half supported her till they reached the next stopping
station, where she was transferred to a fly, and conveyed, under the
care of Max Bray, to the nearest hotel.
There is no difficulty in obtaining a doctor in a country town, and it
was not long before one was by the sofa upon which Ella had been laid.
"Well," said Max, after five minutes' examination, "what's to be done?"
"Send for a nurse, and have Mrs--Mrs--I beg pardon, what name did you
say?"
"Williams," said Max.
"To be sure--Williams," said the doctor; "and let Mrs Williams be at
once conveyed to bed. She will have to be carefully tended and
watched."
"Fit to travel again to-morrow, I suppose?" said Max. "Come, now, no
professional dodging."
"To-morrow two months," said the doctor sharply, "perhaps;" and then he
looked anything but pleasantly at Max.
"What!" exclaimed Max viciously. "Bai Jove, you don't mean that!"
"I mean, sir," said the doctor seriously, "that your lady is in a
dangerous state, and I would not answer for her life if she were moved.
I'll do my best, and we must be hopeful for what is to follow."
"Bai Jove!" ejaculated Max, as he left the room; and sympathising hands
were soon busy with the insensible form.
"Mrs Williams, eh?" said the doctor to himself, as he superintended a
portion of the arrangements; and then left to get some medicine made up.
"Mrs Williams, eh? But, poor child, she does not travel in her
wedding-ring!"
Volume 3, Chapter XVIII.