A LEAP FOR LIFE
Adrian Dredmond was indeed the grandson and heir of Lord Dunforth, the
former lover of Miss Mehetabel Douglas.
He had married, as she told Brownie, five years after the terrible
disappointment which had well-nigh ruined both their lives.
His wife was a sweet-tempered, gentle little body, and she loved him
with her whole heart.
He liked her well enough, and respected her thoroughly, but the one love
of his life had been that proud, fair-haired girl who had broken his
heart. It had been a deathless love, as could easily be seen by his
rambling talk the night he met Isabel at Lady Peasewell’s.
When he finally married he had done so to please his father, and in
order to perpetuate the name.
But another disappointment awaited him, for only a daughter blessed
their union, and there was no heir to take the title. At the age of
sixteen she fell in love with a colonel in the English army—a widower
nearly twice her age.
Her father, whose life had been such a failure, would not doom her to a
like fate, and so consented to the marriage, although he did not fully
approve of it, both on account of his daughter’s youth and the
profession of Colonel Dredmond, since, in all probability, it would
eventually separate him from his only child.
But the fair young girl bride only lived one short year, and died soon
after the birth of their only child—a fine boy, whom his father named
Adrian.
Colonel Dredmond was soon after ordered into active service, and was
killed fighting like the brave man he was.
Henceforth Adrian became his grandfather’s sole joy and comfort, and he
lavished upon him all the love which his bruised heart was capable of
feeling.
The boy inherited all his father’s bravery, together with his
grandfather’s honor and nobility of character, and bade fair to make the
declining years of Lord and Lady Dunforth the best and happiest of their
lives.
During the last few weeks he had been very unhappy and depressed.
His anxiety regarding Brownie, in whom he had at last acknowledged he
had more than an ordinary interest, rendered him gloomy and
absent-minded.
He did not enjoy company, it irritated and angered him to look around
and see others so gay, when, perhaps, the one whom he now knew he loved
more than his own life, was friendless and maybe suffering.
He had come down to Dunforth Castle to be present at the dinner party to
please his grandmother, but he told her, upon his arrival, that he must
return to London upon the next day, as he had important business which
would not allow of his absence.
That business was his constant and almost hopeless search for Brownie
Douglas. His meeting with Isabel to-night made his trouble seem more
bitter than ever, and for the first time in his life he felt, as if he
almost hated a human being.
He regretted exceedingly her engagement to Sir Charles, for he was
warmly attached to the young man; but he felt that he was powerless to
save him from what he feared his future would be with such a vain and
selfish girl as he knew Miss Coolidge to be.
As soon as dinner was over, feeling weary and gloomy, he lighted a
cigar, and went out by himself into the cool night air.
The sky was somewhat overcast, but not dark, for there was a full moon,
which every now and then burst out gloriously from behind the clouds,
and he could distinguish objects quite plainly.
About a quarter of a mile from the castle the ground arose very abruptly
for a short distance, and suddenly terminated in a high precipice, which
shelved out over a deep and swift-running river.
This was accounted a very dangerous spot by people in that vicinity, for
the continual dropping and caving away of the rocks and earth had left
the hill above but a mere shell or shelf, hanging out over the river a
hundred feet below, and which, it was predicted, was liable to be had
appeared about twenty feet from the brink, and the spot was shunned by
every one, although it used to be much frequented on account of the
lovely view which it commanded.
To any one unacquainted with the path which led up this ascent, it was
like tempting Providence to try to reach the top, for there were
pitfalls on every side, and the path was winding and uneven.
But Adrian knew every step of the ground, for during his boyhood he had
explored every inch many a time, and he clambered on now, still thinking
gloomily of his own affairs.
He had accomplished about two-thirds of the distance, and he could hear
the restless surging of the river, as its waters rushed over its rocky
bed, when the moon came sailing out from behind a white-edged cloud, and
flooded the whole landscape with its yellow light.
He looked up and swept his eye over the hill. He started, and an
exclamation of horror broke from him as he did so.
He had seen some one standing on the very edge of the dangerous
precipice, and gazing down into the valley beyond.
It was a woman, and the breeze made her dark, flowing garments sweep out
behind her in graceful folds, and now she lifted her head, and he could
faintly distinguish the outline of her face as the moonlight fell upon
it.
He dare not call out to her for fear the sound of his voice would
startle her, and she would be precipitated into the boiling river below.
For a moment the strength all went out of his body, as he thought he
should never be able to reach and save her—that his extra weight upon
that frail shelf must bring death to them both.
Then, without a second thought of self, he sprang forward with swift,
noiseless steps.
Surely, whoever she was, she could not realize the horrible danger of
that moment, and the young man’s heart fairly ceased its beating, as
with a few rapid strides he was at her side, and laying a firm hand upon
her arm, he said, in tones thrilling with anxiety:
“Madam, do you know that you are tempting death? This portion of the
hill is liable to cave at any moment.”
Then, without releasing his strong hold of her, he drew her quickly back
from the spot, farther and yet farther from the sound of those roaring
waters, which seemed hungering for their prey, until they reached the
fatal seam, which Adrian saw was now wider than ever before.
Just then a sudden shock seemed to strike him, then a rattling, rolling,
horrible sound reached his ears, and a sensation of swaying and
dizziness crept over him.
He knew what it meant—death!
Only one thought was in his heart now, and it rent his soul with its
silent agony.
“Brownie, my Brownie, I shall never see you again!”
The next instant—he never knew how he did it—but he caught the form at
his side in his arms, and sprang forward, all his strength and energies
gathered into that leap for life.
Not an instant too soon, however, for the whole space which they had
just traversed was swept from their sight as if by magic, and went
crashing and tumbling down into the fearful depths below, leaving that
noble man and trembling woman faint, dizzy, sick, with the thought of
the horrible death which they had so narrowly escaped and clinging
wildly to each other in horrified silence.
Then, keeping his hold upon her to support her, he led her still farther
away from the yawning chasm, saying, gently:
“Sit down upon this rock under this tree for a few moments until you
regain your strength.”
She obeyed, and he bent down to look into her face.
“Are you faint? Shall I go for some water?” he asked; then suddenly
dropping upon his knees before her he exclaimed:
“Just Heaven! is it you that I have saved from that? Oh! if I had not
come!” burst from him in a startled, almost anguished cry.
His voice shook like an old man’s with horror, his face, as the
moonlight struck it, was ashen in its hue, and for the moment he was
more completely unnerved than the girl whom he had rescued from such
imminent danger. Her hands lay white and limp in her lap.
He gathered them up in his strong clasp, and pressed his lips again and
again upon them, while his breast heaved with the fierce, frightened
throbbings of his heart.
Ah! only Heaven knew the horrible yet rapturous sensations of that
moment, when he discovered that she whom he had just saved from a
terrible death, was none other than Brownie Douglas whom he had sought
so long sorrowing!
“Yes, it is I whom you have saved, Mr. Dredmond; but for you I should
now be lying crushed, and bruised, and dead at the bottom of yonder
stream,” was the low reply, in those sweet tones, which he would have
recognized at the ends of the earth.
“I little thought to find you here. I learned something of your trouble,
and I have searched everywhere for you in London, Miss Douglas, for the
last two months, and it was with reluctance that I relinquished my quest
long enough to obey a summons hither,” he said, when he began to recover
himself a little.
He did not stop to think that she might deem it singular that he, almost
a stranger, should be searching so earnestly for her.
“How strange,” he went on, “that I should have come hither to save you
from even worse than what I feared might have happened to you? It was
dreadful for you to be there, and my brain grows dizzy with the thought
of what must have been if I had not come! Did you know of that perilous
shelf? Has no one told you?”
“No, Mr. Dredmond, I only came to Dunforth Castle to-day. I was sad and
lonely to-night, and being freed from my duties, I came out for a stroll
in the moonlight. I saw this hill, and heard the dashing of the stream,
and thinking a delightful view might be obtained from the top, I
clambered up. It was like being suddenly awakened from a beautiful
dream, when you seized and bore me from the place.”
Adrian shuddered.
“I expected that both of us would be dashed in pieces when I saw the
earth giving way, and heard that dreadful noise,” she added, in
trembling tones.
“Better that, than that I should not have come at all,” he returned,
passionately.
His tone seemed to recall her suddenly to herself, and she tried to
release her hands, which he still held tightly clasped in his.
He was almost unconscious that he still held them, but at the effort she
made he looked up at her and saw that her face had grown crimson with
blushes, while her eyes dropped shyly beneath his gaze.
“I beg your pardon,” he said, releasing them at once, and rising to his
feet. “You will think me presuming, but my gratitude that you were safe
made me forget myself. Did I understand you that you are staying at the
castle?” he asked, changing the subject to relieve his embarrassment.
“I am there for a few days.”
“Indeed! and so am I,” he replied, much pleased, and forgetting that he
had told his grandmother he could not possibly remain longer than over
one night. “You are cold,” he added, as he saw her shiver; “shall I take
you back now to the castle?”
“Thank you; yes.”
Then, with a tenderness which thrilled her through and through, yet with
a courtly deference which made him seem more grand and noble than ever
before, he supported her faltering steps down the steep path, and led
her back to the castle.
“You have not yet told me, nor will I ask you to-night, how you happened
to leave London so suddenly. Wilbur Coolidge told me that I should find
you at the ‘Washington,’” he said, as he drew near the door.
“Yes, I did tell him that I should be there for a few days, but an
accident prevented my ever going to the hotel at all. I am now with Lady
Ruxley, at her cottage near Vallingham Hall.”
“Zounds! She has got right back into that Coolidge nest again, poor
thing! I wonder if she knows it, or has seen them yet?” was Adrian’s
inward comment; then he said, aloud: “If you remain here a few days I
shall probably see you again.”
Then, as he clasped her hand, he continued, with a smile:
“Now, good-night; and, Miss Douglas, do not go wandering off by yourself
again in the night to places you know nothing of.”
Again she thrilled at his touch, and the fire leaped into her cheeks at
his words.
“I will not,” she promised, with a little answering smile, though he saw
that tears were dropping from her eyes, as she added: “But, Mr. Desmond,
I have not been able to find words adequate to express my feelings for
what you have done for me to-night; but surely you will not deem me
ungrateful.”
“No, no, dar——” He nearly said it in spite of himself, but quickly
checking the word, he exclaimed: “Great Heaven! how it unmans me even
now to think of it; but I pray you go to rest, and try to forget it if
you can.”
He led her up the steps to a side door, where she could enter unseen,
let her in, then wandered away by himself again into the park, his soul
stirred to its very depths by the events of the last half hour.