As Duncan Leslie walked up the steep path leading to the old granite
house he could not help thinking of the absurdity of his act, and
wondering whether Louise Vine and her father would see how much easier
it would have been for him to call at Van Heldre's.
"Can't help it," he said. "The old man must think what he likes. Laugh
at me in his sleeve? Well, let him. I shan't be the first man in love
who has been laughed at."
"In love, man, in love! How stupid it sounds; and I suppose I am weak."
"Human nature!" he said after a pause; and he walked very fast.
Then he began to walk very slowly, as a feeling of hesitation came over
him, and he asked himself whether the Vines would not feel his coming as
an intrusion, and be annoyed.
"She can't be annoyed," he said half aloud. "She may think it
unfortunate, but she knows I love her, and she is too true and sweet a
woman to be hard upon me."
With the full intention of going boldly to the house, and trying to act
in a frank, manly way, letting Louise see that he was going to be
patient and earnest, he again strode on rapidly, but only to hesitate
again and stop by one of the great masses of rock which occurred here
and there along the shelf-like slope cut from the side of the towering
hill.
Here he rested his arms upon the shaggy stone and stood gazing out to
sea, the darkness looking wonderfully transparent and pure. From where
he stood the harbour was at his feet, and he could see a spark-like
light here and there in cottage or boat, and a dull glow from some open
doorway on the opposite side of the estuary.
The red light at the end of the east pier sent a ruddy stain out to sea,
and there was another light farther out just rocking gently to and fro,
and as it caught his eye he shuddered, for it shone out softly, as did
the light of the lugger on the night when Harry Vine took that terrible
leap.
"Poor weak boy," said Leslie to himself. And then, "The more need for
her to have one in whom she can confide; only I must be patient--
patient."
He turned with a sigh, and began to walk back, for in his indecision the
feeling was in him strong now that a call would be an intrusion, and
that he must be content to wait. By the time he was fifty yards down
the path the desire to see Louise again was stronger than ever, and he
walked back to the stone, leaned over it, and stood thinking. After a
few minutes he turned sharply round and looked, for he heard a heavy
step as of a man approaching, but directly after, as he remained
quiescent, he just made out that it was not a man's step, but that of a
sturdy fisherwoman, who seemed in the gloom to resemble Poll Perrow, but
he could not be sure, and forgot the incident as soon as she passed. By
the time the steps had died out, Duncan Leslie's mind was fully made up;
and, following the woman, he walked firmly up to the gateway, entered,
and, reaching the hall door, which stood open, he rang. He waited for
some time, listening to a low murmur of voices in the dining-room, and
then rang again. There was no reply, consequent upon the fact that Liza
was at the back gate, to which she had been summoned by her mother, who
had come up in trouble, and was asking her questions whose bearing she
could not understand.
Leslie's courage and patience began to fail, but he still waited, and
then at last changed colour, feeling the blood rush to his cheeks, for
there was a peculiarity in the conversation going on in the dining-room,
and it seemed to him that some one was agitated and in pain.
He turned away so as to force himself not to hear, feeling that he was
an interloper, and then, in spite of himself, he returned to find that
the sounds had grown louder, and as if involuntarily agitated and
troubled more than he would have cared to own, he rang again and then
entered the hall.
He hesitated for a few moments, and then certain from the voices that
there was something strange, and divining wrongly or rightly from the
tones of one of the voices--a voice which thrilled him as he stood there
trembling with excitement--that the woman he loved needed help, he threw
aside all hesitation, and turned the handle of the door.
The words which fell upon his ear, the scene he saw of Louise kneeling
at some strange, rough-looking man's feet, sent the blood surging up to
his brain, rendering him incapable of calm thought, and turned the
ordinarily patient, deliberative man into a being wrought almost to a
pitch of madness.
It did not occur to him that he was an intruder, and that he had no
right to make such a demand, but taking a stride forward, he exclaimed--
"Louise! who is this man?" as the lamp was swept from the table, and
they were in darkness.
For a few moments no one spoke, and Louise stood clinging to her
brother, trembling violently, and at her wits' end to know what to do.
The simple way out of the difficulty would have been to take Duncan
Leslie into their confidence at once; but in her agitation, Louise
shrank from that. She knew his stern integrity; she had often heard of
his firmness with his mine people; and she feared that in his surprise
and disgust at what seemed to her now little better than a trick played
by her brother to deceive them, Leslie would turn against him and refuse
to keep the secret.
On the other hand, Harry, suffering from a fresh access of dread, but
now strung up and excited, placed his lips to her ear and bade her be
silent on her life.
The silence was for a few moments terrible, and then Harry's breath
could be heard coming and going as if he had been hunted, while Louise,
in her agony of excitement, sought vainly for words that should put an
end to the painful encounter.
No one moved; and in the midst of the nervous strain a sharp puff of
wind came sweeping up from the sea, like the _avant garde_ of a storm,
and the casement window was blown to with a loud clang.
Harry started as if he had felt that his retreat was cut off, but he
kept his face averted, and dragged his rough hat down over his eyes,
though the action was unnecessary, for the darkness was too great for
him to be recognised.
As he started Louise clung to him, and for the moment he struggled to
escape from her, but he clung to her the next instant, and quivered with
fear as the silence was broken by Leslie's voice, so cold, deep, and
harsh that it seemed as if a stranger was speaking.
"I suppose I have no right to interfere," he said; "but there are times
when a man forgets or puts aside etiquette, and there are reasons here
why I should speak. Miss Vine, where is your father?"
Louise made an effort to reply, but there was only a spasmodic catching
of her breath.
"Send him away. Tell him to go," whispered Harry.
"I said, where is your father, Miss Vine?" said Leslie again more
coldly.
"At--at Mr Van Heldre's," she murmured at last. "Mr Leslie--pray--"
"I am your father's friend, and I should not be doing my duty--ah! my
duty--to myself," he cried angrily, "if I did not speak plainly. Does
Mr Vine know that this gentleman is here?"
"_No_," said Louise, in an almost inaudible voice, and in the contagion
of her brother's fear she seemed to see him once more hunted down by the
officers of justice; and the terrible scene on the pier danced before
her eyes.
"So I suppose," said Leslie coldly.
"Send him away," whispered Harry hoarsely.
"It is not in Miss Louise Vine's power to send me away, sir," cried
Leslie fiercely; and the poor trembling girl felt her brother start once
more.
"You, sir, are here, by her confession, clandestinely. You are a
scoundrel and a cur, who dare not show your face, or you would not have
dashed out that light."
Harry made a harsh guttural sound, such as might be uttered by a beast
at bay.
"Who are you? I need not ask your object in coming here. I could not
help hearing."
"Tell him to go away," said Harry sharply, speaking in French to
disguise his voice.
"Mr Leslie, pray, pray go. This is a private visit. I beg you will
go."
"Private enough," said Leslie bitterly; "and once more I say you may
think I have no right to interfere. I give up all claims that I might
have thought I had upon you, but as your father's friend I will not
stand calmly by and see wrong done his child. Speak out, sir; who are
you? Let's hear your name, if you are ashamed to show your face."
"Tell him to go away," said Harry again.
Leslie writhed, for Aunt Marguerite's hints about the French gentleman
of good descent came up now as if to sting him. This man he felt, in
his blind rage, was the noble suitor who in his nobility stooped to come
in the darkness to try and persuade a weak girl to leave her home; and
as he thought this it was all he could do, hot-blooded, madly jealous
and excited, to keep from flinging himself upon the supposed rival, the
unworthy lover of the woman he had worshipped with all the strength of a
man's first passion.
"I can't talk to him in his wretched tongue," cried Leslie, fiercely;
"but I understand his meaning. Perhaps he may comprehend mine. No. I
shall not go. I shall not leave this room till Mr Vine returns. He
can answer to your father, or I will, if I have done wrong."
"Mr Leslie!" cried Louise, "you don't know what you are doing--what you
say. Pray--pray go."
"When my old friend George Vine tells me I have done wrong, and I have
seen you safe in his care."
"No, no. Go now, now!" cried Louise.
Leslie drew a deep breath and his heart beat heavily in the agony and
despair he felt. She loved this man, this contemptible wretch who had
gained such ascendancy over her that she was pleading in his behalf, and
trying to screen him from her father's anger.
"Mr Leslie. Do you hear me?" she cried, taking courage now in her
despair and dread lest her father should return.
"Yes," he said coldly, "I hear you, Miss Vine; and it would be better
for you to retire, and leave this man with me."
"No, no," she cried excitedly. "Mr Leslie! you are intruding here.
This is a liberty. I desire you to go."
"When Mr Vine comes back," said Leslie sternly. "If I have done wrong,
then no apology shall be too humble for me to speak. But till he comes
I stay. I have heard too much. I may have been mad in indulging in
those vain hopes, but if that is all dead there still remains too much
honour and respect for the woman I knew in happier times for me to stand
by and let her wrong herself by accompanying this man."
"Mr Leslie, you are mistaken."
"I am not."
"Indeed--indeed!"
"Prove it then," he cried, in stern judicial tones. "I am open to
conviction. You love this man?" Louise was silent. "He was begging
you to accompany him in flight." Louise uttered a low wail. "Hah!"
ejaculated Leslie, "I am right."
"No, no; it is all a misapprehension," cried Louise excitedly. "Mr
Leslie, this--"
"Hold your tongue," whispered Harry hoarsely, and she moaned as she
writhed in spirit.
"There are reasons why my father should not know of this visit."
"So I suppose," said Leslie sternly; "and you ask me to be a partner by
giving way to a second blow to that true-hearted, trusting man. Louise
Vine, is it you who are speaking, or has this man put these cruelly base
words in your mouth?"
"What can I say? What can I do?" wailed Louise, wringing her hands, as
with every sense on the strain she listened for her father's step.
Harry, who now that the first shock had passed was rapidly growing more
calm and calculating, bent down over his sister, and whispered to her
again in French to go quickly, and get her hat and mantle.
"He will not dare to stop us," he said.
Louise drew a long breath full of pain, for it seemed to be the only way
to save her brother. She must go; and, taking a step or two she made
for the door.
"No," said Leslie calmly, "it is better that you should stay, Miss
Vine."
Harry was at her side in a moment.
"Never mind your hat," he whispered in French; "we must go at once."
"Stand back, sir!" cried Leslie, springing to the door. "Your every act
shows you to be a base scoundrel. You may not understand my words, but
you can understand my action. I am here by this door to keep it till
Mr Vine returns. For the lady's sake, let there be no violence."
"Mr Leslie, let us pass!" cried Louise imperiously, but he paid no heed
to her, continuing to address his supposed rival in calm, judicial
tones, which did not express the wild rage seething in his heart.
"I say once more, sir, let there be no violence--for your own sake--for
hers."
Harry continued to advance, with Louise's hand in his, till Leslie had
pressed close to the door.
"Once more I warn you," said Leslie, "for I swear by Heaven you shall
not pass while I can lift a hand."
At that moment, in the obscurity, Louise felt her hand dropped, and she
reeled to the side of the room, as now, with a fierce, harsh sound,
Harry sprang at Leslie's throat, pushed him back against the door in his
sudden onslaught, and then wrenched him away.
"Quick, Louise!" he cried in French. "The door!"
Louise recovered herself and darted to the door, the handle rattling in
her grasp. But she did not open it. She stood as if paralysed, her
eyes staring and lips parted, gazing wildly at the two dimly-seen
shadows which moved here and there across the casement frames in a
curiously weird manner, to the accompaniment of harsh, panting sounds,
the dull tramping of feet, heavy breathing, and the quick, sharp
ejaculations of angry men.
Then a fresh chill of horror shot through her, as there was a momentary
cessation of the sounds, and Leslie panted,
"Hah! then you give in, sir!" The apparent resignation of his adversary
had thrown him off his guard, and the next moment Harry had sprung at
him, and with his whole weight borne him backwards, so that he fell with
his head upon the bare patch of the hearthstone.
There was the sound of a terrible blow, a faint rustling, and then, as
Louise stood there like one in a nightmare, she was roused to action by
her brother's words.
"Quick!" he whispered, in a hoarse, panting way. "Your hat and mantle.
Not a moment to lose!"
The nightmare-like sensation was at an end, but it was still all like
being in a dream to Louise, as, forced against her own will by the
effort of one more potent, she ran up to her own room, and catching up a
bonnet and a loose cloak, she ran down again.
"You have killed him," she whispered.
"Pish! stunned. Quick, or I shall be caught."
He seized her wrist, and hurried her out of the front door just as Liza
went in at the back, after a long whispered quarrel with her mother, who
was steadily plodding down towards the town as brother and sister
stepped out.
"What's that? some one in front?" whispered Harry, stopping short.
"Here, this way."
"Harry!" moaned his sister, as he drew her sidewise and began to climb
up the rough side of the path so as to reach the rugged land above.
"It is the only chance," he said hastily. "Quick!"
She followed him, half climbing, half dragged, till she was up on the
granite-strewn waste, across which he hurried her, reckless of the
jagged masses of rock that were always cropping up in their way, and of
the fact that in three places farther along, once fenced in by stones,
which had since crumbled down, were, one after the other, the openings
to three disused mines, each a terrible yawning chasm, with certain
death by drowning for the unfortunate who was plunged into their depths.
Volume 3, Chapter VII.