"For Clive's sake," she said to herself, as the charge exploded, and the
recoil of the loosely held gun rent the bodice of her dress and jerked
her violently backward.
There was a savage snarl, mingled with the report of the piece, and
followed instantly by the tinkling of falling glass, a crushing sound of
a gliding body, and then a dull concussion upon the stones beneath,
where there was a panting and struggling, accompanied by a hissing as of
breath drawn in agony; and then the rushing of the wind as it tore round
the house, while within all was silence, as if of the dead.
Dinah stood in the chamber holding the gun, motionless and with a cold
perspiration bedewing her face as she breathed the dank, clinging,
hydrogenous fumes of the burnt powder. Every sense was on the strain,
and her fingers rested now upon the second trigger as she waited, firm
and determined to fire again in her defence should her would-be
assailant climb up.
It was for Clive's sake. She was his now--his very own; and in her
excited, nerve-strung state she was ready to defend herself to the last,
and die sooner than that man, her horror and despair, should again clasp
her in his arms.
But no fresh sound arose as she waited in the black darkness grasping
everything now. How that Sturgess must have deeply laid his plans, and
in revenge for a savage seizure made by the dog, as she remembered with
a shudder, first poisoned the poor brute, and then somehow have
contrived to drug the tea of which Martha had partaken that evening.
She shivered again, as she thought of how closely this man must have
watched everything that went on at the cottage, and how often he must
have been near at hand at times when she knew it not. Then he must, in
the knowledge of her father's absence, have selected the Major's chamber
as a place where he could obtain entrance unheard, little thinking that
Fate would inspire his child to select that as a place of safety.
And all the while Dinah stood there motionless, a yard farther from the
open window, drawing her breath at intervals, her heart beating, and
every sense still upon the strain, as she waited ready to repel the next
attack.
Twice over a pang shot through her, and she felt that the time had come,
for there was a rustling sound below, and in imagination she saw the
dark opening grow more dark. But the sound died away again, and she
knew that it was only a sudden gust of wind sweeping the rain-drops
before it. And at last a new horror assailed her. That man--Sturgess,
she was sure--had been in the act of climbing to the room and she had
fired.
Of course she knew all that, but somehow in her excitement--her
exaltation of spirit in her defence of all that was dear to her in
life--it seemed part of a horrible dream, a something which could not
have been true.
But it was true! She had fired and heard the cry of agony, the crushing
of the thatch, and the heavy fall, and writhing on the stones beneath,
followed by that awful silence during which she had waited in
expectation for it to be broken by his coming on again.
But it had not been broken, and she knew why now. The thought came to
her like a revelation--Michael Sturgess was lying there, beneath that
window, either grievously wounded or dead.
A vertigo seized her, and she nearly dropped the gun. But Dinah's
nerves had been too tightly strung to give way now; and once more
mastering her weakness, she walked bravely to the window, hesitated and
then leaned out, starting back in horror, for she was touched.
But it was only the edge of the iron frame of the casement swung to by
the wind; and as she leaned out and looked down, she held her breath and
listened, expecting to hear some movement--some slight stir. But there
below in the dense darkness all was perfectly still; no movement, no
hard-drawn breath as of one in agony, but a silence so horrible that she
staggered back to throw the gun upon the bed, and press her hand down to
try and allay the laboured breathing of her heart.
She could bear it no longer. She felt that she must go down and see.
Evil as the man was, he might be still alive, and she might save him.
If not, she must know whether he was dead, for the suspense was
infinitely worse than the knowledge could possibly be.
In a state of maddening excitement now, she unfastened the door, and
went down the dark stairs, pausing for a brief moment in the kitchen,
where a heavy breathing told her that Martha still slept her drugged
sleep; and then going to the front door she softly and quickly drew back
the bolts, and turned the key, when the door yielded, as she grasped the
handle, with a faint cracking sound.
Then, nerved by her excitement, she stepped through the porch into the
outer darkness, stooping down and peering before her in her endeavour to
make out the prostrate body she expected to see lying prone.
But nothing was visible, and gathering courage and calmness she went
farther, walking to and fro over the spot where he must have fallen,
without result, till, satisfied that the worst had not happened, and
full of hope that he had fled after the shot, she hurried back to
re-enter the house, stepping quickly over the stones to the little
porch, and right into a pair of arms.
With a wild cry of horror she struck at the man with all her might, with
the result that there arose a yell of rage and pain. A brief struggle
followed, and in her frantic efforts to free herself, Dinah tore herself
away. Then turned and fled blindly, anywhere, so as to escape.
But Sturgess was close behind.
"Stop!" he cried hoarsely. "It's of no use now, little one. Hah, I
have you at last."
She was rushing up the rocky garden, and he was close behind and caught
her by the shoulders, but with a cry of despair she flung herself
side-wise, and he stumbled past her, and fell heavily, uttering an angry
oath.
She turned and fled downward toward the river, tripping again and again
over the scattered stones and bushes, and making such bad progress that
Sturgess had time to gather himself up, hear where she was forcing her
way along, and followed wildly in pursuit.
But, mad now with fear and horror, weak too from her exertions and the
enervation caused by the dread of being overtaken, Dinah sped on,
meaning to run to left or right, along the river edge, but taking
neither way; for in her despair, she ran straight into the river, wading
right out, so as to try and gain the shelter of the rocks on the further
side.
It was shallow where she waded, but she knew that beneath the rocks
there were deep holes, where the great trout lay; and she felt that she
might step right into one of these. But the cold clinging embraces of
the water were better than the clasp of this ruffian, and without a
moment's hesitation she pressed on to gain her haven of safety, and then
stopped short with the water nearly to her waist, and pressing softly
against her, to bear her away: for she heard a loud ejaculation from the
path she had left, and then her pursuer's heavy steps, as he ran for a
few yards downwards, and then came back and ran upward, and returned.
"Curse her! Which way has she gone?" came plainly to her ears, followed
by the rippling sound of the river, as it ran swiftly on.
She knew that Sturgess could not see her, for he was evidently
listening, and the slightest movement would have betrayed the fact that
she was standing there only a few yards away.
Two or three times the force of the river was so great that she felt as
if she must yield to it; but she stood firm and then felt a fresh chill,
for the man snarled out an oath, and the lapping and splashing sound
made her turn and wade a little farther, for she felt that her enemy had
made her out, and was wading in. But in another moment a savage
ejaculation of pain made the truth known, for Sturgess was kneeling down
and bathing the wound he had received.
She grasped it all plainly enough now, for from time to time he uttered
a low groan, and then rose up and staggered away over the stones, while
her heart leaped for joy, as she knew that he was growing weak and faint
from exertion.
From this moment everything became plain to her--made known in the
darkness by the sounds. She could see nothing, but she knew as well as
if she had been by his side that the man was painfully staggering up the
stony slope along by the river edge, as if making for the mine. But she
dared not move, only try to stand firm against the pressure of the
water, and wait till the last sound had reached her ear. Then, and then
only, did she stir, but only to wade upward a little into shallower
water, where the pressure was not so great. For the river was her
protector, and she knew that Sturgess might come back.
A full hour must have passed before, stiff and chilled, she waded slowly
out, and crept up the path to the cottage, the water streaming from her
as she walked, till she reached the porch, crept in trembling and
secured the door, and then did not rest till she had reached her own
room to throw herself upon her knees in thankfulness for her escape.
But there was no rest that night. Just at daybreak she went down to
find that Martha still slept, and shuddering, lest the events of the
night should be known, she went into her father's chamber and replaced
the gun in its old corner; looked out in the cold grey morning, and saw
that it was possible for the absent pane of glass to be attributed to
the work of the wind blowing about a loosened casement. Lastly, there
was something else for which she sought in the cold grey light of
morning--traces of the gun-shot wound.
There were none visible. If there had been, a sufficiency of rain had
fallen to wash all away, and leaving the window ajar, Dinah was in the
act of turning back, pondering upon her position and shrinking from
telling her father more than ever. She determined that Martha must know
nothing, when she caught a glimpse of her pale, troubled face in the
glass, and then uttered a faint cry of horror, for her light dress was
horribly stained about the breast and shoulder, showing plainly that
Sturgess must have received a severe wound, whose traces had been
transferred to her when he had seized her in his arms.
"How can I speak!--how can I tell all!" she moaned, as she hurried
guiltily back to her own room to remove the still damp and draggled
garments. "It is too horrible. Oh," she cried, fiercely now in her
desperation, "if he would but die!"
"Oh, my dear, how pale and white you do look," said Martha at
breakfast-time; and Dinah gazed at her wildly, as if in dread lest she
knew all. "I feel as sure as sure that we both had something that
didn't agree with us yesterday, though I can't say for the moment what.
Yes, my dear, I didn't really know how it was, but I felt poorly all day
yesterday, and grew so drowsy at last that I went off fast asleep. Did
you come and find me then?"
"Yes, I came and found you," said Dinah dreamily, as the whole scene of
the previous night came back.
"Of course it was very strange, but it was so kind of you not to wake
me. But I'm better now--all but a headache. Does yours ache too?"
"Yes, Martha, badly," said Dinah, with a sigh, as for a moment she
pondered about taking the old woman into her confidence.
"I thought it did. There; have a good cup of tea. You'll be better
then. Will master be back to-day?"
"I hope so, Martha," said Dinah, with a sigh; and then hope came to
revive her once more. For he would come and bring news of Clive, who
must know all, and then there would be safety--protection, and no more
of this abject fear.
In the afternoon news reached the cottage that there had been an
accident at the mine, where early that morning Mr Sturgess, the
foreman, had fallen down one of the lower shafts, and severely cut and
injured his left shoulder.