THE FUGITIVE AND THE PURSUER.
On returning to her own room from that interview with Leon, Edith sat
for a long time involved in thought. It was evident to her now that her
situation was one full of frightful peril. The departure of Wiggins, of
which she was aware, seemed to afford additional danger. Between him
and Leon there had been what seemed to her at least the affectation of
dislike or disagreement, but now that he was gone there remained no one
who would even pretend to interpose between herself and her enemy. Even
if Mrs. Dunbar had been capable of assisting her against Leon, Edith
knew that no reliance could be placed upon her, for she had openly
manifested a strong regard for him.
This departure of Wiggins, which thus seemed to make her present
position more perilous, seemed also to Edith to afford her a better
opportunity than any she had known since her arrival of putting into
execution her long-meditated project of flight. True, there was still
the same difficulty which had been suggested once before--the want of
money--but Edith was now indifferent to this. The one thing necessary
was to escape from her new perils. If she could but get out of the
Dalton grounds, she hoped to find some lawyer who might take up her
cause, and allow her enough to supply her modest wants until that cause
should be decided. But liberty was the one thought that eclipsed all
others in her estimation; and if she could but once effect her escape
from this horrible place, it seemed to her that all other things would
be easy.
The present appeared to be beyond all others the fitting time, for
Wiggins was away, and it seemed to her that in his absence the watch
over her would probably be relaxed. Her long illness would of itself
have thrown them to some extent off their guard, and render her purpose
unsuspected. By this time it would doubtless be forgotten that she had
once left the Hall by night, and it was not likely that any precaution
would be taken against a second flight on the part of one so weak as she
was supposed to be. A few days before she had made a stealthy visit to
that door, and had found, to her great relief, that no additional
fastenings had been put there. Her illness had evidently rendered any
such precaution unnecessary for the time; and since her recovery Wiggins
had no doubt been too much occupied with other things to think of this.
Now was the time, then, for flight. The danger was greater than ever
before, and the opportunity for escape better. Leon was master in the
house. The other inmates were simply his creatures. Leon Dudleigh, as he
called himself, claimed to be her husband. He asserted that claim
insolently and vehemently. She had defied him, but how long would she be
able to maintain that defiant attitude? How long could her frail
strength sustain her in a life of incessant warfare like this, even if
her spirit should continue to be as indomitable as ever? The scene of
this day, and her last parting with him, made the danger seem so
imminent that it nerved her resolution, and made her determine at all
hazards to attempt her escape that night.
But how should she escape?
Not for the first time did this question occur. For a long time she had
been brooding over it, and as she had thought it over she had devised a
plan which seemed to hold out to her some prospect of success.
In the first place, it was evident that she would have to climb over the
wall. To obtain any key by which she could open the gates was
impossible. She could find none that were at all likely to do so;
besides, she was afraid that even if she had a key, the attempt to
unlock the gates might expose her to detection and arrest by the
watchful porter. The wall, therefore, was her only hope.
Now that wall could not be climbed by her unassisted strength, but she
knew that if she had any sort of a ladder it might easily be done. The
question that arose, then, was how to procure this ladder. A wooden one
could not be of any service, for she could not carry it so far, and she
saw plainly that her attempt must be made by means of some sort of a
rope-ladder.
Having reached this conclusion, she began a diligent search among all
the articles at her disposal, and finally concluded that the bed-cord
would be exactly what she needed. In addition to this, however,
something more was required--something of the nature of a grapple or
hook to secure her rope-ladder to the top of the wall. This required a
further search, but in this also she was successful. An iron rod on the
curtain pole along which the curtains ran appeared to her to be well
suited to her needs. It was about six feet long and a quarter of an inch
thick. The rod rested loosely on the pole, and Edith was able to remove
it without difficulty.
All these preliminaries had been arranged or decided upon before this
evening, and Edith had now only to take possession of the rod and the
rope, and adapt them to her wants. For this purpose she waited till
dark, and then began her work.
It was moonlight, and she was able to work without lighting a lamp, thus
securing additional secrecy. This moonlight was both an advantage and a
disadvantage, and she did not know whether to be glad or sorry about it.
It certainly facilitated her escape by showing the way, but then, on the
other hand, it rendered discovery easier.
Edith set to work, and, first of all, she removed the bed-cord. It was
as strong as was desirable, and far longer than was necessary. She
doubled part of this, and tied knots at intervals of about a foot, and
in this simple way formed what was a very good step-ladder about three
yards long, which was sufficient for her purpose. Then she removed the
iron curtain rod, and bent this in such a way that it formed a hook or
grapple strong enough for her wants. She thus had a rope-ladder, with a
grappling-iron attached, of rude construction, it is true, yet perfectly
well suited to the task before her, and so light as to be quite
portable.
These preparations did not take up much time. After taking what she
wanted of the bed-cord, there was enough left to replace in the bedstead
so as to hold up the bed. She did not know what might happen, and wished
to preserve appearances in the event of Mrs. Dunbar's entrance, or in
case of her being compelled to postpone her project. From the same
motive she also replaced the curtain so as to look as it did before,
securing it in its place by means of pins.
At length all these preparations were completed, and it only remained
for Edith to wait for the proper time to start.
The hours passed on.
Midnight came, but even at that hour Edith thought that it was too
early. Leon probably kept late hours, and might be wandering about. She
determined to wait longer.
The moon was still shining. There were only a few scattered clouds in
that clear sky.
Could she find her way to the wall? She felt confident of that. She
intended to go down the avenue, keeping close to the trees, so as to fly
to their shelter in case of pursuit. When she reached the neighborhood
of the porter's lodge, she would go through the trees to the wall,
trusting to fortune to find her way for that short distance.
Such were the hopes and plans, made long before, which now occupied her
thoughts as she waited.
At last two o'clock came. It seemed now that it would be unwise to wait
any longer, since the time that was left between this and daylight was
barely sufficient to allow for contingencies. Without any farther delay,
therefore, she prepared to depart.
It was with a painful feeling of suspense and agitation that she set
forth upon this attempt at flight, which she knew must be a final one.
Over her left arm she threw the rope-ladder, while in her left hand she
held that ancestral dagger which had already done her such good service
in her dealings with Leon. Her right hand was thus free to grope in the
dark for her way, to open bolts, or to seize the dagger from her other
hand whenever the need for it might arise. For this last dread necessity
she had thoroughly prepared herself. By the desperation of her position,
and by the dark menaces of Leon, she had been nerved to a courage beyond
even that elevated standard which her high spirit ordinarily reached,
and she had resolved that if any one interposed between herself and that
liberty for which she longed, to use that dagger, and to strike without
scruple.
On leaving her room she stood for a moment in the outer hall and
listened. All was still. She glided noiselessly along, and reached the
stairway. Once more she stood and listened before descending. There was
silence yet. She now descended the stairs as noiselessly as before, and
reached the lower hall, where she walked quickly toward the east end,
and came to the narrow stairway that led down to the door. Here once
more she paused. A fearful thought came to her as she looked down. What
if some one should be waiting there in the dark! What if Leon should be
there! In spite of herself a shudder passed through her at that thought.
Suddenly, as she stood there, she heard a sound--a sound which roused
her once more to action, and inspired new fears. It was the sound of a
footfall--far away, indeed, inside the house, but still a footfall--a
heavy tread, as of some one in pursuit, and its sound was loud and
menacing to her excited senses. There was only one to whom she could
attribute it--Leon!
He had heard her, then!
She was pursued!
Like lightning this thought came to her, and brought terror with it. She
could delay no longer. Down the narrow stairway she hurried through the
darkness, and reached the door. In her panic she forgot her usual
caution. With a jerk she drew the bolt back, and a harsh grating sound
arose. She flung open the door, which also creaked on its unused
hinges. Then leaping out, she hastily banged the door after her, and ran
straight on.
In front of Dalton Hall there was a wide lawn and a pond. Beyond this
arose the trees of the park. Toward the shelter of these shadowy trees
Edith hurried, with the dread sense in her soul that she was being
pursued by a remorseless enemy. This thought lent additional speed to
her footsteps as she flew over the intervening space. The moon was
shining brightly, and she knew that she could easily be seen by any
watcher; but she sought only the more to reach the trees, and thus
escape observation. The time seemed long indeed to her in those moments
of dread suspense; but the space was at last traversed, the trees were
reached, and plunging into the midst of them, she ran along,
occasionally stumbling, until at length, partly from exhaustion and
partly from a desire to see where her enemy might be, so as to elude him
better, she stopped.
Her course had been a circuitous one, but she had kept along the edge of
the wood, so that now, as she stopped, she found herself under the
shadow of the trees, and immediately opposite the portico of Dalton
Hall, between which and herself lay the pond. Here she stood, and
looked over the intervening space.
As she looked, she at first saw no appearance of any human being, and
she began to think that her fears all along had been unfounded; but in a
little while, as her eyes wandered over the front of the Hall, she saw
something which at once renewed all her excitement, and showed her that
her fears were true.
Upon the portico stood a figure, the general outlines of which were now
visible to her, as she looked carefully, and seemed to be the figure of
Leon. She could recognize the gray dress which he usually wore, and also
understood why she had not noticed him before, for the color of his
clothes had made him but faintly visible against the gray stone mass of
the background. He was now standing there with his face turned in her
direction.
“He has heard me,” she thought. “He has seen me. Instead of chasing me
at once, he has stopped to listen, so as to judge of my course. He knows
that I am here now in this spot, and is still listening to find out if I
go any further.”
In a few moments her attention was attracted by a dark object lying on
the portico near Leon.
It was the dog!
She knew it well. Her heart sank within her.
“He is going to track me with the dog!” she thought.
What could she do?
Nothing. Flight was now worse than useless. All seemed lost, and there
was nothing now left to her in that moment of despair but the resolve to
resist to the end.
After a short time, which to Edith seemed prolonged to a terrible
degree, the figure came down the steps, followed by the dog.
Edith watched.
He walked on; he rounded the end of the pond; he came nearer!
She could now recognize his face as the moon shone down.
It was Leon. There was no longer the slightest doubt of that. He was
coming toward her, and the huge dog followed.
Edith involuntarily shrank back among the trees, and grasping her dagger
with desperate resolve, awaited the approach of her enemy.
* * * * *