STELLA'S ADVENTURE.
Naturally, one of the first inquiries of the children on recovering was as
to whether their assailant had been captured, and Mrs. Anketell was
greatly troubled, fearing it would make them nervous of the place if they
knew he was still at large, and she longed to be able to assure them that
the man was safely under lock and key again. Another thing she feared was
that the children would be too terrified to stay in the neighbourhood,
and would wish to be taken home. But when by-and-by an immediate return
home was suggested to them they pleaded so hard--to her great relief--to
be allowed to stay, that she gladly fell in with their wishes, being
anxious to leave with a happier impression of the place than that given by
the fright, almost tragedy, they had just sustained.
So they stayed on. Stella soon grew bright and rosy again when she saw
that Paul was not dangerously hurt, and with the happy knack which
healthy, plucky children, have, she soon threw off any dread she might
have of going out and about, and with 'Watch' (the dog Farmer Minards gave
the children to be their own special protector) at their heels, she and
Michael wandered about, within reach of home, as happily as if no such
person as a convict existed.
Paul, of course, did not recover so quickly; he had to be quiet until his
wound had healed, and Stella and Michael missed him very much in all their
games and walks, so much so indeed that Mr. Anketell, who had been sent
for at once, took to planning little excursions to various picturesque
spots in the neighbourhood, where they would have tea in a cottage, or in
a cottage garden, and drive home in the cool of the evening.
One day, soon after the accident, while Paul was still too weak to get
about, Mr. Anketell suggested that they should drive that afternoon to a
village called Windycross, walk on a mile to the little town which was
their nearest shopping-place, and come back to Windycross to tea.
Stella was delighted. For days she had been longing to buy a little
present for Paul, but did not know how to manage it; here was her
opportunity, and with her purse in her pocket, and heart full of
delightful importance, she clambered up into the carriage and drove off.
It was a lovely day, and the children were in the highest spirits,
only saddened every now and again by the sight of the searchers still
scouring the country for the escaped man, and the fear that the poor
fellow might at any moment be caught, for, strange though it may seem,
all the children's sympathies were with him, and they longed to hear that
the search had been abandoned.
The drive to Windycross was a long one, but they reached there in good
time, and Michael and Stella stood looking about them full of interest at
the funny little low white cottages, while their father went into one and
ordered tea. Then they strolled slowly on to the town, and Stella laid
out two of the five shillings she possessed on a book she knew Paul was
longing to possess. Her pleasure and excitement over her purchase were
immense; she could not allow anyone else to carry it, and every now and
again she was filled with a longing to untie the string and look at her
treasure, to turn over the crisp new leaves, and glance at the pictures.
At last, when they reached the village, she could restrain herself no
longer. They had got back earlier than they thought they would, and the
tea was not ready, so Mr. Anketell, who wanted to call on a friend near
by, thought he would go and do that while they were waiting, and take the
children with him.
But Stella wanted so much to undo her precious parcel and look at her book
that she pleaded to be left behind, and Mr. Anketell and Michael left her
at the cottage. But she soon found that that did not suit her; there were
too many people about, and she was shy under the glances of so many eyes;
so she strolled into the garden, but that was close to the village street,
and a girl who was working there dropped her work to stare at the
stranger.
Stella began to feel quite cross, and she looked around to see if there
was no secluded spot in all that place. Then her eye fell on the little
church hidden away amongst trees at the bottom of the village, and her
heart leaped. She turned to the girl who was picking fruit and watching
her at the same time. "I am going down to the churchyard to sit in the
shade," she said. "I will be back again by the time tea is ready," and
before the girl could reply she had hurried away.
The top of the village seemed to be the favourite spot at Windycross for
the villagers to congregate; most of the houses were up there, too, while
the lower end where the church stood was as deserted as the other end was
sought after; to Stella's great joy she did not see a single person, and
as she clambered over the stone stile which led into it, and wandered
along the overgrown paths, she felt as though she was as safe from
intrusion as though she had been in the middle of the moor. The fact was,
the yard had long ceased to be used as a burying-ground, and the church
itself was as nearly deserted by the present generation of villagers, for
a clergyman came only once a month to hold service there, and while the
old building gradually became a ruin, a flourishing chapel sprang up to
satisfy the needs of the neglected people.
But Stella knew and thought nothing of this; she was only bent on finding
a comfortable, secluded seat, where she sat and unwrapped her parcel.
She thought of Paul's surprise, and how pleased he would be, she dipped
into the pages here and there and read a few lines, admired the covers,
and enjoyed the delightful smell new books so often have, and at last,
half reluctantly, she wrapped her treasure up in its paper again, trying
to make it look as neat as when the shopman had handed it to her.
That done she got up to explore further. It was a weird, neglected spot
she had got into. Numbers of tombstones lay about as they had fallen,
others were leaning over looking as though another gale would lay them
flat too. The shrubs which had been planted on the graves had grown to be
great, unkempt bushes, spreading over many other graves than the one they
had been planted on; tiny saplings had become big trees, forcing out
tombstones and curbs, and everywhere the rank grass grew high up into the
bushes. But greatest of all dilapidations was that of the church itself;
many of the windows had been broken, and were left unrepaired; here and
there a great piece of stonework had fallen away; the outer gates of the
porch hung loose on one hinge. Stella entered the porch and sat for a
moment on one of the stone benches.
Then, scarcely knowing why she did it, she raised the latch of the church
door. To her great surprise the door opened, and without a thought she
entered. She had never been in so tumbledown and neglected a place in her
life; the pew-doors were either hanging or gone altogether, some of the
pews were too rotten to use, the plaster and paint hung off in scales, and
a large hole in the roof showed that the risk of attending service there
was no slight one.
But Stella did not heed the danger; she was too much charmed to find
herself alone and exploring. A sense of importance filled her, and a good
deal of curiosity. She looked at the names in some of the mouldy hymn
books lying in the pews, and mounted the pulpit to see how the church
looked from there. Then she went into the vestry, and coming out of it
she found herself at the entrance to a low dark place which she thought
must be a family vault. It was so low and dark she could at first see
nothing within, and instinctively she drew herself up sharply on the
threshold, doubtful, but of what she did not know. But, somehow, she did
not like to enter, a sudden nervousness came over her, a desire to get
away from the place and be out in the open again.
And then, with a terrified scream, she saw close to her, gleaming out of
the darkness, a wild looking, savage face; two eyes full of desperation,
and hunger, and despair, were fixed on hers; and in another moment she
recognised the hiding convict. The fear in his face lightened when he
found that the footsteps he had listened to for what seemed so long were
only those of a little girl.
"Are you alone?" he asked, in a low, gruff voice.
With the shock, and the fright, and her fear of the man, a sudden panic
seized Stella; she could not answer, and with another terrified cry she
turned and ran. But she did not know her way, and in her hurry she
tripped over a step, and before she could recover herself the man was at
her side. But instead of killing her, as she really thought he would, he
lifted her up, not roughly, and put her on her feet, then picked up her
parcel and after carefully feeling it, handed it to her, though he kept a
tight grip of her hand.
"Missy," he said in a low voice, so hoarse she could hardly make out what
he said--"Missy, I ain't goin' to hurt you. I give 'ee my word I won't
harm you if you'll only promise not to breathe a word about my being
here."
A sound outside, probably only a bird fluttering in the ivy, made him
start nervously, and Stella saw that he shook, and that the perspiration
stood out on his face. He drew her quickly back to the entrance to the
vault. "Swear you won't ever breathe a word to anybody that you have seen
me. Swear it! Do you hear?"
He looked so ferocious, that Stella began to cry. "I won't tell, of
course not," she said, earnestly. "I am not a sneak, and we wanted you to
escape; we all hoped you were far away by this time. Paul and I thought
you must be."
He gave a sort of snarl. "There's no getting away from this place, unless
anybody's got friends outside to help 'em. They are too sharp, and there
are too many of 'em. But I've gone free longer than any before me, and
that's something. Who is Paul?" he asked suddenly. "And where do you
live?"
"We live at Moor Farm. Paul is my brother, the one you shot."
The man looked at her sharply, "Did I--did I hurt him much?"
"The bullet went through his arm. He didn't die."
"I'm glad of that," said the man, and he spoke as though he really meant
it. "I'm starving," he said a second later. "I haven't had a mouthful
since the day before yesterday, and I can't hold out much longer.
Have you got any food about you?"
Stella shook her head. "No, I haven't. I am so sorry," she said
wistfully, and the man's hard face grew soft as her blue eyes looked
pityingly up at him. "I _wish_ I could help you," she said earnestly;
then with sudden recollection, "I have three shillings, if that would be
of any use to you."
"Thank you, Missy, it might be," he said gratefully; "but I wish you'd got
a bit of bread."
She took out her little purse, and counted out the money into his rough
hand. "Thank you, Missy," he said again. "I shall never forget you, if I
gets away, or if I'm took I shall always be humbly grateful to you, and
think of you as one of the pluckiest little ladies that ever lived."
"Thank you," she said politely, "but I think I must be going now, or
someone may come to look for me."
The man's face again was filled with a desperate fear, and he shrank back
further into the gloom of the vault, "Before you go you must swear you
won't give me away. Swear!--do you hear, on your solemn oath!"
"I don't know how to swear," said Stella simply, "but I promise solemnly
not to tell anyone who would do you any harm."
"That won't do. You must not tell anyone at all, unless you hear I'm--
took--or killed," with a bitter laugh.
"Very well," said Stella. "I don't like keeping it from mother, but I
_will_ keep the secret, for your sake. I hope you will soon get some
food. Good-bye," and she held out her hand to shake hands with him.
The man took it, but did not speak, and Stella, drawing her hand away, ran
down the aisle and through the church as fast as she could. Not until she
was outside did she realise how her limbs were trembling, and she wondered
how she should ever get back to the cottage and escape notice and
questioning. But in her great desire to shield the man she made such
efforts to laugh and talk and be like her usual self, and Michael had so
much to say too, that nothing unusual was observed in her look or manner.
And if, during the next few days, any of them thought her unusually quiet
and thoughtful, it was all put down to the shock the burglar had given her
that night, no one dreaming that she had had a long and solitary interview
with that same desperate creature, and had come out of it unhurt.
But only for a week did her silence last, for at the end of that time the
poor, wretched convict was captured, miles from Windycross, just as he was
making his way to a train which would have borne him, probably, to safety.
As usual, all sympathy was with the captured man, but to Stella his arrest
was a real and lasting grief, and when amidst many bitter tears she told
the story of her adventure at Windycross, her one hope was that he did not
think she was in any way concerned in his capture.