CHAPTER XXII.

WAS IT LIFE OR DEATH?

Just as the lights crept up to the front paling, and began to cast a glow on the flowers inside, Lady Rose stole out from the porch, threaded a lilac thicket, which lay near a back gate, and let herself into a portion of the park which was strange to her. For a while she stood bewildered, not knowing the direction she ought to take. Then a flash of distant lights, shooting through the trees, revealed the position in which "The Rest" lay from the cottage; and taking the very path Ruth had sought in the morning, she hurried along it, so sheltered by the overhanging trees, that she might have passed unobserved, but for the flutter of her garments, and the glint of her jewels, as the moonbeam struck them now and then, in her progress.

"Does he breathe yet? Will the motion put out that one spark of life, before he reaches home? Shall I never see him again?"

The thought gave a wild, abnormal strength to the girl. She no longer felt fatigue. The faint dread at her heart was swept away with a more powerful force of suffering. She must know for herself.

Swiftly as these thoughts swept through her brain, they scarcely matched the speed of her movements. Gathering up the long skirts that encumbered her feet, she fairly flew along the path, panting with impatience rather than fear, as each step brought her closer to those lighted windows. All at once she sprang aside with a sharp cry, and turned, like an animal at bay, for, in a dark hollow, into which the path dipped, the figure of a man stopped her.

The shriek that broke from Lady Rose seemed to exasperate the black shadow, which had a man's form, that moved heavily. This was all the frightened girl could see; but, in an instant, a low, hoarse voice broke from it, and her hand was seized with a fierce grasp.

"So you have found it out. So much the better. Both down, and one answerable for the other. Famous end to a day's sweethearting, isn't it?"

"What is this? What do you mean? Take your hand from my wrist," cried the lady, in sharp alarm.

"Not so easy, my lady, that would be. Some things are sweeter than revenge, though that tastes rarely, when one gets a full cup. I thought you would be coming this way, and waited to meet you."

"Meet me? For what?" faltered the lady, shivering.

"Oh, no wonder your voice shakes, till one hardly knows it again," answered the man. "If anything can drive the heart back from your throat, it might be the grip of my hand on your arm. You never felt it so heavy before, did you, now? Can you guess what it means?"

"It means that you are a ruffian--a robber, perhaps, no matter which. Only let me go!"

"A ruffian! Oh, yes; I think you said that once before; but I warn you. Such words cut deep, and work themselves out in an ugly way. Don't attempt to use them again, especially here. It isn't a safe spot; and just now I ain't a safe man to sneer at."

"Why do you threaten me? What have I done to earn your ill-will?" faltered the lady, shuddering; for the man had drawn so close to her as he spoke, that his breath swept with sickening volume across her face, and his hand clinched her wrist like a vice.

"What have you done? Ha! ha! How innocent she is! How daintily she speaks to the ruffian--the robber!"

"I was rash to call you so; but--but you frightened me."

"Oh, yes, I am always frightening you. A kiss from me is worse than a bullet from some one we know of."

"Hush, sir! I cannot bear this!"

"Don't I know that you could bear me well enough, till he came along with his silky beard and soft speech? Then I became a ruffian--a robber. Well, now, what you wouldn't give at any price, I mean to take."

"There is no need. I give them to you freely. Unclasp the bracelet. It is heavy with jewels. Then free my hand, and I will take the locket from my neck. Trust me; I will keep nothing back."

"Bracelets, lockets, jewels! What are you thinking of? Dash me, but I think you have gone crazy. Undo your bracelet, indeed. When did you come by one, I should like to know?"

"It is on my wrist. Oh, if a ray of moonlight could only strike down here."

"On your wrist? What, this heavy shackle? Stay, stay! How soft your hand is. Your dress rustles like silk. Your voice has changed. Woman, who are you?"

"Take the jewels. Oh, for pity's sake, unlock them, and let me go."

The hand that held that delicate wrist so firmly dropped it, the dark body swerved aside, and Richard Storms plunged down the path. Swift as a lapwing Lady Rose sped up the hill through the shrubberies, nearest "The Rest," and at last stood panting within the shadows of the terrace, where a solitary man was walking up and down with mournful slowness.

"It is Sir Noel," she said, as the moonlight fell on his white face. "God help us! It looks as if he had been with death!"

Gliding noiselessly up the steps, Lady Rose met the baronet as he turned in his walk.

"Tell me! oh, tell me!" she faltered, coming close to him, and breaking off in her speech.

"He is alive, my child."

"Ah!"

"The doctors are with him now."

"So soon--so soon!" exclaimed the lady, seizing upon a desperate hope from the doctor's presence.

"I came out here for breath. It was so close in the rooms," said the baronet, gently.

Lady Rose glanced at the house. It was still brilliantly lighted. The windows were all open, and a soft breeze was playing with the frost-like curtains, just as it had when she heard that shot, and fled down the terrace. The music was hushed, and the rooms were almost empty; that was all the change that appeared to her. Yet it seemed as if years had passed since she stood on that terrace.

"But we shall hear soon. Oh, tell me!"

"Yes, my child. They know that I am waiting."

The baronet strove to speak calmly, for the suppression of strong feeling had been the education of his life; but his voice shook, and he turned his head aside, to avoid the piteous glance of those great, blue eyes that were so full of tears.

"Go--go up to your room, Lady Rose," said the baronet, after a moment's severe struggle with himself. "In my selfish grief I had forgotten everything. Was Jessup alive when he reached the cottage?"

"I--I think so; but there came so many with him that I escaped through the shrubberies."

"And came here alone. That was brave; that was wise. At least, we must save you from the horrors of to-night, let the result be what it may."

Lady Rose uttered a faint moan, and the tears grew hot under her drooping eyelids.

"If it goes ill with him, I do not wish to be spared. Pain will seem natural to me then," she said, shivering.

The baronet took her hand in his own; both were cold as ice; so were the lips that touched her fingers.

"You will let me stay until we hear something?" she pleaded.

Just then she stood within the light which fell from one of the tall windows, and all the disarray of her dress was clearly betrayed: the trailing azure of her train soiled with earth and wet with dew; the gossamer lace torn in shreds, the ringlets of her thick, rich hair falling in damp masses around her. Surely that was no figure to present before his critical guests. They must not know how this fair girl suffered. There should be no wounds to her maidenly pride that he could spare her.

These thoughts drew the baronet partially from himself. It was a relief to have something to care for. At this moment, when all his nerves were quivering with dread, the sweet, sad sympathy of this fair girl was a support to him. He did not wish to part with her now, that she so completely shared the misery of his suspense.

"You are shivering; you are cold!" he said.

"No, no; it is not that."

"I know--I know!"

He dropped her hand and went into the great, open hall, where bronze statues in armor, life-sized, held lights on the points of their spears, as if on guard. Some lady had flung her shawl across the arm of one of these noble ornaments, where it fell in waves of rich coloring to the marble floor. Sir Noel seized upon this and wrapped the Lady Rose in its loose folds from head to foot. Then he drew her to a side of the terrace, where the two stood, minute after minute, waiting in silence. Once the baronet spoke.

"The windows of his room are just above us," he said. "I thought perhaps we might hear something."

"Ah me! How still they are!" sighed the girl, looking upward.

"We could not hear. No, no, we could not hear. The sashes are all closed," answered the baronet, sharply, for he felt the fear her words implied.

Rose drew close to her companion.

"I did not mean that. I only thought--"

"They are coming."

The baronet spoke in a whisper, but did not move. He shrunk now from hearing the news so impatiently waited for a moment before.

A servant came through the hall, and rushed toward his master.

"Sir Noel, they are waiting for you in the small drawing-room."

The baronet hesitated. His lips were striving to frame a question which the man read in the wild eyes fixed on his.

"He is alive, Sir Noel. I know that."

The father drew a deep, deep breath. The claw of some fierce bird of prey seemed loosened from his heart; a flood of gentle pity for the fair girl, who dared not even look her anxiety, detained him another moment.

"Go into the library. I will bring you news," he said.