CHAPTER XIX.
A SUMMER NIGHT.
The hour was now that of dusk. A clear air favoured the kindling of thestars.
"There will be just light enough to show me the way home," said MissKeeldar, as she prepared to take leave of Caroline at the rectory gardendoor.
"You must not go alone, Shirley; Fanny shall accompany you."
"That she shall not. Of what need I be afraid in my own parish? I wouldwalk from Fieldhead to the church any fine midsummer night, three hourslater than this, for the mere pleasure of seeing the stars and thechance of meeting a fairy."
"But just wait till the crowd is cleared away."
"Agreed. There are the five Misses Armitage streaming by. Here comesMrs. Sykes's phaeton, Mr. Wynne's close carriage, Mrs. Birtwhistle'scar. I don't wish to go through the ceremony of bidding them allgood-bye, so we will step into the garden and take shelter amongst thelaburnums for an instant."
The rectors, their curates, and their churchwardens now issued from thechurch porch. There was a great confabulation, shaking of hands,congratulation on speeches, recommendation to be careful of the nightair, etc. By degrees the throng dispersed, the carriages drove off. MissKeeldar was just emerging from her flowery refuge when Mr. Helstoneentered the garden and met her.
"Oh, I want you!" he said. "I was afraid you were alreadygone.--Caroline, come here."
Caroline came, expecting, as Shirley did, a lecture on not having beenvisible at church. Other subjects, however, occupied the rector's mind.
"I shall not sleep at home to-night," he continued. "I have just metwith an old friend, and promised to accompany him. I shall returnprobably about noon to-morrow. Thomas, the clerk, is engaged, and Icannot get him to sleep in the house, as I usually do when I am absentfor a night. Now----"
"Now," interrupted Shirley, "you want me as a gentleman--the firstgentleman in Briarfield, in short--to supply your place, be master ofthe rectory and guardian of your niece and maids while you are away?"
"Exactly, captain. I thought the post would suit you. Will you favourCaroline so far as to be her guest for one night? Will you stay hereinstead of going back to Fieldhead?"
"And what will Mrs. Pryor do? she expects me home."
"I will send her word. Come, make up your mind to stay. It grows late;the dew falls heavily. You and Caroline will enjoy each other's society,I doubt not."
"I promise you, then, to stay with Caroline," replied Shirley. "As yousay, we shall enjoy each other's society. We will not be separatedto-night. Now, rejoin your old friend, and fear nothing for us."
"If there should chance to be any disturbance in the night, captain; ifyou should hear the picking of a lock, the cutting out of a pane ofglass, a stealthy tread of steps about the house (and I need not fear totell _you_, who bear a well-tempered, mettlesome heart under your girl'sribbon sash, that such little incidents are very possible in the presenttime), what would you do?"
"Don't know; faint, perhaps--fall down, and have to be picked up again.But, doctor, if you assign me the post of honour, you must give me arms.What weapons are there in your stronghold?"
"You could not wield a sword?"
"No; I could manage the carving-knife better."
"You will find a good one in the dining-room sideboard--a lady's knife,light to handle, and as sharp-pointed as a poniard."
"It will suit Caroline. But you must give me a brace of pistols. I knowyou have pistols."
"I have two pairs. One pair I can place at your disposal. You will findthem suspended over the mantelpiece of my study in cloth cases."
"Loaded?"
"Yes, but not on the cock. Cock them before you go to bed. It is payingyou a great compliment, captain, to lend you these. Were you one of theawkward squad you should not have them."
"I will take care. You need delay no longer, Mr. Helstone. You may gonow.--He is gracious to me to lend me his pistols," she remarked, as therector passed out at the garden gate. "But come, Lina," she continued,"let us go in and have some supper. I was too much vexed at tea with thevicinage of Mr. Sam Wynne to be able to eat, and now I am reallyhungry."
Entering the house, they repaired to the darkened dining-room, throughthe open windows of which apartment stole the evening air, bearing theperfume of flowers from the garden, the very distant sound offar-retreating steps from the road, and a soft, vague murmur whoseorigin Caroline explained by the remark, uttered as she stood listeningat the casement, "Shirley, I hear the beck in the Hollow."
Then she rang the bell, asked for a candle and some bread and milk--MissKeeldar's usual supper and her own. Fanny, when she brought in the tray,would have closed the windows and the shutters, but was requested todesist for the present. The twilight was too calm, its breath too balmyto be yet excluded. They took their meal in silence. Caroline rose onceto remove to the window-sill a glass of flowers which stood on thesideboard, the exhalation from the blossoms being somewhat too powerfulfor the sultry room. In returning she half opened a drawer, and tookfrom it something that glittered clear and keen in her hand.
"You assigned this to me, then, Shirley, did you? It is bright,keen-edged, finely tapered; it is dangerous-looking. I never yet feltthe impulse which could move me to direct this against afellow-creature. It is difficult to fancy that circumstances could nervemy arm to strike home with this long knife."
"I should hate to do it," replied Shirley, "but I think I could do it,if goaded by certain exigencies which I can imagine." And Miss Keeldarquietly sipped her glass of new milk, looking somewhat thoughtful and alittle pale; though, indeed, when did she not look pale? She was neverflorid.
The milk sipped and the bread eaten, Fanny was again summoned. She andEliza were recommended to go to bed, which they were quite willing todo, being weary of the day's exertions, of much cutting of currant-buns,and filling of urns and teapots, and running backwards and forwardswith trays. Ere long the maids' chamber door was heard to close.Caroline took a candle and went quietly all over the house, seeing thatevery window was fast and every door barred. She did not even evade thehaunted back kitchen nor the vault-like cellars. These visited, shereturned.
"There is neither spirit nor flesh in the house at present," she said,"which should not be there. It is now near eleven o'clock, fullybedtime; yet I would rather sit up a little longer, if you do notobject, Shirley. Here," she continued, "I have brought the brace ofpistols from my uncle's study. You may examine them at your leisure."
She placed them on the table before her friend.
"Why would you rather sit up longer?" asked Miss Keeldar, taking up thefirearms, examining them, and again laying them down.
"Because I have a strange, excited feeling in my heart."
"So have I."
"Is this state of sleeplessness and restlessness caused by somethingelectrical in the air, I wonder?"
"No; the sky is clear, the stars numberless. It is a fine night."
"But very still. I hear the water fret over its stony bed in Hollow'sCopse as distinctly as if it ran below the churchyard wall."
"I am glad it is so still a night. A moaning wind or rushing rain wouldvex me to fever just now."
"Why, Shirley?"
"Because it would baffle my efforts to listen."
"Do you listen towards the Hollow?"
"Yes; it is the only quarter whence we can hear a sound just now."
"The only one, Shirley."
They both sat near the window, and both leaned their arms on the sill,and both inclined their heads towards the open lattice. They saw eachother's young faces by the starlight and that dim June twilight whichdoes not wholly fade from the west till dawn begins to break in theeast.
"Mr. Helstone thinks we have no idea which way he is gone," murmuredMiss Keeldar, "nor on what errand, nor with what expectations, nor howprepared. But I guess much; do not you?"
"I guess something."
"All those gentlemen--your cousin Moore included--think that you and Iare now asleep in our beds, unconsci
ous."
"Caring nothing about them--hoping and fearing nothing for them," addedCaroline.
Both kept silent for full half an hour. The night was silent too; onlythe church clock measured its course by quarters. Some words wereinterchanged about the chill of the air. They wrapped their scarvescloser round them, resumed their bonnets, which they had removed, andagain watched.
Towards midnight the teasing, monotonous bark of the house-dog disturbedthe quietude of their vigil. Caroline rose, and made her way noiselesslythrough the dark passages to the kitchen, intending to appease him witha piece of bread. She succeeded. On returning to the dining-room shefound it all dark, Miss Keeldar having extinguished the candle. Theoutline of her shape was visible near the still open window, leaningout. Miss Helstone asked no questions; she stole to her side. The dogrecommenced barking furiously. Suddenly he stopped, and seemed tolisten. The occupants of the dining-room listened too, and not merelynow to the flow of the mill-stream. There was a nearer, though amuffled, sound on the road below the churchyard--a measured, beating,approaching sound--a dull tramp of marching feet.
It drew near. Those who listened by degrees comprehended its extent. Itwas not the tread of two, nor of a dozen, nor of a score of men; it wasthe tread of hundreds. They could see nothing; the high shrubs of thegarden formed a leafy screen between them and the road. To hear,however, was not enough, and this they felt as the troop trod forwards,and seemed actually passing the rectory. They felt it more when a humanvoice--though that voice spoke but one word--broke the hush of thenight.
"Halt!"
A halt followed. The march was arrested. Then came a low conference, ofwhich no word was distinguishable from the dining-room.
"We _must_ hear this," said Shirley.
She turned, took her pistols from the table, silently passed out throughthe middle window of the dining-room, which was, in fact, a glass door,stole down the walk to the garden wall, and stood listening under thelilacs. Caroline would not have quitted the house had she been alone,but where Shirley went she would go. She glanced at the weapon on thesideboard, but left it behind her, and presently stood at her friend'sside. They dared not look over the wall, for fear of being seen; theywere obliged to crouch behind it. They heard these words,--
"It looks a rambling old building. Who lives in it besides the damnedparson?"
"Only three women--his niece and two servants."
"Do you know where they sleep?"
"The lasses behind; the niece in a front room."
"And Helstone?"
"Yonder is his chamber. He was burning a light, but I see none now."
"Where would you get in?"
"If I were ordered to do his job--and he desarves it--I'd try yond' longwindow; it opens to the dining-room. I could grope my way upstairs, andI know his chamber."
"How would you manage about the women folk?"
"Let 'em alone except they shrieked, and then I'd soon quieten 'em. Icould wish to find the old chap asleep. If he waked, he'd be dangerous."
"Has he arms?"
"Firearms, allus--and allus loadened."
"Then you're a fool to stop us here. A shot would give the alarm. Moorewould be on us before we could turn round. We should miss our mainobject."
"You might go on, I tell you. I'd engage Helstone alone."
A pause. One of the party dropped some weapon, which rang on the stonecauseway. At this sound the rectory dog barked againfuriously--fiercely.
"That spoils all!" said the voice. "He'll awake. A noise like that mightrouse the dead. You did not say there was a dog. Damn you! Forward!"
Forward they went--tramp, tramp--with mustering, manifold, slow-filingtread. They were gone.
Shirley stood erect, looked over the wall, along the road.
"Not a soul remains," she said.
She stood and mused. "Thank God!" was the next observation.
Caroline repeated the ejaculation--not in so steady a tone. She wastrembling much. Her heart was beating fast and thick; her face was cold,her forehead damp.
"Thank God for us!" she reiterated. "But what will happen elsewhere?They have passed us by that they may make sure of others."
"They have done well," returned Shirley, with composure. "The otherswill defend themselves. They can do it. They are prepared for them. Withus it is otherwise. My finger was on the trigger of this pistol. I wasquite ready to give that man, if he had entered, such a greeting as helittle calculated on; but behind him followed three hundred. I hadneither three hundred hands nor three hundred weapons. I could not haveeffectually protected either you, myself, or the two poor women asleepunder that roof. Therefore I again earnestly thank God for insult andperil escaped."
After a second pause she continued: "What is it my duty and wisdom to donext? Not to stay here inactive, I am glad to say, but, of course, towalk over to the Hollow."
"To the Hollow, Shirley?"
"To the Hollow. Will you go with me?"
"Where those men are gone?"
"They have taken the highway; we should not encounter them. The roadover the fields is as safe, silent, and solitary as a path through theair would be. Will you go?"
"Yes," was the answer, given mechanically, not because the speakerwished or was prepared to go, or, indeed, was otherwise than scared atthe prospect of going, but because she felt she could not abandonShirley.
"Then we must fasten up these windows, and leave all as secure as we canbehind us. Do you know what we are going for, Cary?"
"Yes--no--because you wish it."
"Is that all? And are you so obedient to a mere caprice of mine? What adocile wife you would make to a stern husband! The moon's face is notwhiter than yours at this moment, and the aspen at the gate does nottremble more than your busy fingers; and so, tractable andterror-struck, and dismayed and devoted, you would follow me into thethick of real danger! Cary, let me give your fidelity a motive. We aregoing for Moore's sake--to see if we can be of use to him, to make aneffort to warn him of what is coming."
"To be sure! I am a blind, weak fool, and you are acute and sensible,Shirley. I will go with you; I will gladly go with you!"
"I do not doubt it. You would die blindly and meekly for me, but youwould intelligently and gladly die for Moore. But, in truth, there is noquestion of death to-night; we run no risk at all."
Caroline rapidly closed shutter and lattice. "Do not fear that I shallnot have breath to run as fast as you can possibly run, Shirley. Take myhand. Let us go straight across the fields."
"But you cannot climb walls?"
"To-night I can."
"You are afraid of hedges, and the beck which we shall be forced tocross?"
"I can cross it."
They started; they ran. Many a wall checked but did not baffle them.Shirley was surefooted and agile; she could spring like a deer when shechose. Caroline, more timid and less dexterous, fell once or twice, andbruised herself; but she rose again directly, saying she was not hurt. Aquickset hedge bounded the last field; they lost time in seeking a gapin it. The aperture, when found, was narrow, but they worked their waythrough. The long hair, the tender skin, the silks and the muslinssuffered; but what was chiefly regretted was the impediment thisdifficulty had caused to speed. On the other side they met the beck,flowing deep in a rough bed. At this point a narrow plank formed theonly bridge across it. Shirley had trodden the plank successfully andfearlessly many a time before; Caroline had never yet dared to risk thetransit.
"I will carry you across," said Miss Keeldar. "You are light, and I amnot weak. Let me try."
"If I fall in, you may fish me out," was the answer, as a gratefulsqueeze compressed her hand. Caroline, without pausing, trod forward onthe trembling plank as if it were a continuation of the firm turf.Shirley, who followed, did not cross it more resolutely or safely. Intheir present humour, on their present errand, a strong and foamingchannel would have been a barrier to neither. At the moment they wereabove the control either of fire or water. All Stilbro' Moor,
alight andaglow with bonfires, would not have stopped them, nor would Calder orAire thundering in flood. Yet one sound made them pause. Scarce hadthey set foot on the solid opposite bank when a shot split the air fromthe north. One second elapsed. Further off burst a like note in thesouth. Within the space of three minutes similar signals boomed in theeast and west.
"I thought we were dead at the first explosion," observed Shirley,drawing a long breath. "I felt myself hit in the temples, and Iconcluded your heart was pierced; but the reiterated voice was anexplanation. Those are signals--it is their way--the attack must benear. We should have had wings. Our feet have not borne us swiftlyenough."
A portion of the copse was now to clear. When they emerged from it themill lay just below them. They could look down upon the buildings, theyard; they could see the road beyond. And the first glance in thatdirection told Shirley she was right in her conjecture. They werealready too late to give warning. It had taken more time than theycalculated on to overcome the various obstacles which embarrassed theshort cut across the fields.
The road, which should have been white, was dark with a moving mass. Therioters were assembled in front of the closed yard gates, and a singlefigure stood within, apparently addressing them. The mill itself wasperfectly black and still. There was neither life, light, nor motionaround it.
"Surely he is prepared. Surely that is not Moore meeting them alone?"whispered Shirley.
"It is. We must go to him. I _will_ go to him."
"_That_ you will not."
"Why did I come, then? I came only for him. I shall join him."
"Fortunately it is out of your power. There is no entrance to the yard."
"There _is_ a small entrance at the back, besides the gates in front. Itopens by a secret method which I know. I will try it."
"Not with my leave."
Miss Keeldar clasped her round the waist with both arms and held herback. "Not one step shall you stir," she went on authoritatively. "Atthis moment Moore would be both shocked and embarrassed if he saw eitheryou or me. Men never want women near them in time of real danger."
"I would not trouble--I would help him," was the reply.
"How?--by inspiring him with heroism? Pooh! these are not the days ofchivalry. It is not a tilt at a tournament we are going to behold, but astruggle about money, and food, and life."
"It is natural that I should be at his side."
"As queen of his heart? His mill is his lady-love, Cary! Backed by hisfactory and his frames, he has all the encouragement he wants or canknow. It is not for love or beauty, but for ledger and broadcloth, he isgoing to break a spear. Don't be sentimental; Robert is not so."
"I _could_ help him; I _will_ seek him."
"Off then--I let you go--seek Moore. You'll not find him."
She loosened her hold. Caroline sped like levelled shaft from bent bow;after her rang a jesting, gibing laugh. "Look well there is no mistake!"was the warning given.
But there _was_ a mistake. Miss Helstone paused, hesitated, gazed. Thefigure had suddenly retreated from the gate, and was running backhastily to the mill.
"Make haste, Lina!" cried Shirley; "meet him before he enters."
Caroline slowly returned. "It is not Robert," she said. "It has neitherhis height, form, nor bearing."
"I saw it was not Robert when I let you go. How could you imagine it? Itis a shabby little figure of a private soldier; they had posted him assentinel. He is safe in the mill now. I saw the door open and admit him.My mind grows easier. Robert is prepared. Our warning would have beensuperfluous; and now I am thankful we came too late to give it. It hassaved us the trouble of a scene. How fine to have entered thecounting-house _toute eperdue_, and to have found oneself in presence ofMessrs. Armitage and Ramsden smoking, Malone swaggering, your unclesneering, Mr. Sykes sipping a cordial, and Moore himself in his coldman-of-business vein! I am glad we missed it all."
"I wonder if there are many in the mill, Shirley!"
"Plenty to defend it. The soldiers we have twice seen to-day were goingthere, no doubt, and the group we noticed surrounding your cousin in thefields will be with him."
"What are they doing now, Shirley? What is that noise?"
"Hatchets and crowbars against the yard gates. They are forcing them.Are you afraid?"
"No; but my heart throbs fast. I have a difficulty in standing. I willsit down. Do you feel unmoved?"
"Hardly that; but I am glad I came. We shall see what transpires withour own eyes. We are here on the spot, and none know it. Instead ofamazing the curate, the clothier, and the corn-dealer with a romanticrush on the stage, we stand alone with the friendly night, its mutestars, and these whispering trees, whose report our friends will notcome to gather."
"Shirley, Shirley, the gates are down! That crash was like the fellingof great trees. Now they are pouring through. They will break down themill doors as they have broken the gate. What can Robert do against somany? Would to God I were a little nearer him--could hear himspeak--could speak to him! With my will--my longing to serve him--Icould not be a useless burden in his way; I could be turned to someaccount."
"They come on!" cried Shirley. "How steadily they march in! There isdiscipline in their ranks. I will not say there is courage--hundredsagainst tens are no proof of that quality--but" (she dropped her voice)"there is suffering and desperation enough amongst them. These goadswill urge them forwards."
"Forwards against Robert; and they hate him. Shirley, is there muchdanger they will win the day?"
"We shall see. Moore and Helstone are of 'earth's first blood'--nobunglers--no cravens----"
A crash--smash--shiver--stopped their whispers. A simultaneously hurledvolley of stones had saluted the broad front of the mill, with all itswindows; and now every pane of every lattice lay in shattered andpounded fragments. A yell followed this demonstration--a rioters'yell--a north-of-England, a Yorkshire, a West-Riding, aWest-Riding-clothing-district-of-Yorkshire rioters' yell.
You never heard that sound, perhaps, reader? So much the better for yourears--perhaps for your heart, since, if it rends the air in hate toyourself, or to the men or principles you approve, the interests towhich you wish well, wrath wakens to the cry of hate; the lion shakeshis mane, and rises to the howl of the hyena; caste stands up, irefulagainst caste; and the indignant, wronged spirit of the middle rankbears down in zeal and scorn on the famished and furious mass of theoperative class. It is difficult to be tolerant, difficult to be just,in such moments.
Caroline rose; Shirley put her arm round her: they stood together asstill as the straight stems of two trees. That yell was a long one, andwhen it ceased the night was yet full of the swaying and murmuring of acrowd.
"What next?" was the question of the listeners. Nothing came yet. Themill remained mute as a mausoleum.
"He _cannot_ be alone!" whispered Caroline.
"I would stake all I have that he is as little alone as he is alarmed,"responded Shirley.
Shots were discharged by the rioters. Had the defenders waited for thissignal? It seemed so. The hitherto inert and passive mill woke; fireflashed from its empty window-frames; a volley of musketry pealed sharpthrough the Hollow.
"Moore speaks at last!" said Shirley, "and he seems to have the gift oftongues. That was not a single voice."
"He has been forbearing. No one can accuse him of rashness," allegedCaroline. "Their discharge preceded his. They broke his gates and hiswindows. They fired at his garrison before he repelled them."
What was going on now? It seemed difficult, in the darkness, todistinguish; but something terrible, a still-renewing tumult, wasobvious--fierce attacks, desperate repulses. The mill-yard, the millitself, was full of battle movement. There was scarcely any cessationnow of the discharge of firearms; and there was struggling, rushing,trampling, and shouting between. The aim of the assailants seemed to beto enter the mill, that of the defenders to beat them off. They heardthe rebel leader cry, "To the back, lads!" They heard a voice retort,"Come round; we wil
l meet you."
"To the counting-house!" was the order again.
"Welcome! we shall have you there!" was the response. And accordinglythe fiercest blaze that had yet glowed, the loudest rattle that had yetbeen heard, burst from the counting-house front when the mass of riotersrushed up to it.
The voice that had spoken was Moore's own voice. They could tell by itstones that his soul was now warm with the conflict; they could guessthat the fighting animal was roused in every one of those men therestruggling together, and was for the time quite paramount above therational human being.
Both the girls felt their faces glow and their pulses throb; both knewthey would do no good by rushing down into the _melee_. They desiredneither to deal nor to receive blows; but they could not have runaway--Caroline no more than Shirley; they could not have fainted; theycould not have taken their eyes from the dim, terrible scene--from themass of cloud, of smoke, the musket-lightning--for the world.
"How and when would it end?" was the demand throbbing in their throbbingpulses. "Would a juncture arise in which they could be useful?" was whatthey waited to see; for though Shirley put off their too-late arrivalwith a jest, and was ever ready to satirize her own or any otherperson's enthusiasm, she would have given a farm of her best land for achance of rendering good service.
The chance was not vouchsafed her; the looked-for juncture never came.It was not likely. Moore had expected this attack for days, perhapsweeks; he was prepared for it at every point. He had fortified andgarrisoned his mill, which in itself was a strong building. He was acool, brave man; he stood to the defence with unflinching firmness.Those who were with him caught his spirit, and copied his demeanour. Therioters had never been so met before. At other mills they had attackedthey had found no resistance; an organized, resolute defence was whatthey never dreamed of encountering. When their leaders saw the steadyfire kept up from the mill, witnessed the composure and determination ofits owner, heard themselves coolly defied and invited on to death, andbeheld their men falling wounded round them, they felt that nothing wasto be done here. In haste they mustered their forces, drew them awayfrom the building. A roll was called over, in which the men answered tofigures instead of names. They dispersed wide over the fields, leavingsilence and ruin behind them. The attack, from its commencement to itstermination, had not occupied an hour.
Day was by this time approaching; the west was dim, the east beginningto gleam. It would have seemed that the girls who had watched thisconflict would now wish to hasten to the victors, on whose side alltheir interest had been enlisted; but they only very cautiouslyapproached the now battered mill, and when suddenly a number of soldiersand gentlemen appeared at the great door opening into the yard, theyquickly stepped aside into a shed, the deposit of old iron and timber,whence they could see without being seen.
It was no cheering spectacle. These premises were now a mere blot ofdesolation on the fresh front of the summer dawn. All the copse up theHollow was shady and dewy, the hill at its head was green; but justhere, in the centre of the sweet glen, Discord, broken loose in thenight from control, had beaten the ground with his stamping hoofs, andleft it waste and pulverized. The mill yawned all ruinous with unglazedframes; the yard was thickly bestrewn with stones and brickbats; andclose under the mill, with the glittering fragments of the shatteredwindows, muskets and other weapons lay here and there. More than onedeep crimson stain was visible on the gravel, a human body lay quiet onits face near the gates, and five or six wounded men writhed and moanedin the bloody dust.
Miss Keeldar's countenance changed at this view. It was the after-tasteof the battle, death and pain replacing excitement and exertion. It wasthe blackness the bright fire leaves when its blaze is sunk, its warmthfailed, and its glow faded.
"This is what I wished to prevent," she said, in a voice whose cadencebetrayed the altered impulse of her heart.
"But you could not prevent it; you did your best--it was in vain," saidCaroline comfortingly. "Don't grieve, Shirley."
"I am sorry for those poor fellows," was the answer, while the spark inher glance dissolved to dew. "Are any within the mill hurt, I wonder? Isthat your uncle?"
"It is, and there is Mr. Malone; and, O Shirley, there is Robert!"
"Well" (resuming her former tone), "don't squeeze your fingers quiteinto my hand. I see. There is nothing wonderful in that. We knew he, atleast, was here, whoever might be absent."
"He is coming here towards us, Shirley!"
"Towards the pump, that is to say, for the purpose of washing his handsand his forehead, which has got a scratch, I perceive."
"He bleeds, Shirley. Don't hold me. I must go."
"Not a step."
"He is hurt, Shirley!"
"Fiddlestick!"
"But I _must_ go to him. I wish to go so much. I cannot bear to berestrained."
"What for?"
"To speak to him, to ask how he is, and what I can do for him."
"To tease and annoy him; to make a spectacle of yourself and him beforethose soldiers, Mr. Malone, your uncle, et cetera. Would he like it,think you? Would you like to remember it a week hence?"
"Am I always to be curbed and kept down?" demanded Caroline, a littlepassionately.
"For his sake, yes; and still more for your own. I tell you, if youshowed yourself now you would repent it an hour hence, and so wouldRobert."
"You think he would not like it, Shirley?"
"Far less than he would like our stopping him to say good-night, whichyou were so sore about."
"But that was all play; there was no danger."
"And this is serious work; he must be unmolested."
"I only wish to go to him because he is my cousin--you understand?"
"I quite understand. But now, watch him. He has bathed his forehead, andthe blood has ceased trickling. His hurt is really a mere graze; I cansee it from hence. He is going to look after the wounded men."
Accordingly Mr. Moore and Mr. Helstone went round the yard, examiningeach prostrate form. They then gave directions to have the wounded takenup and carried into the mill. This duty being performed, Joe Scott wasordered to saddle his master's horse and Mr. Helstone's pony, and thetwo gentlemen rode away full gallop, to seek surgical aid in differentdirections.
Caroline was not yet pacified.
"Shirley, Shirley, I should have liked to speak one word to him beforehe went," she murmured, while the tears gathered glittering in her eyes.
"Why do you cry, Lina?" asked Miss Keeldar a little sternly. "You oughtto be glad instead of sorry. Robert has escaped any serious harm; he isvictorious; he has been cool and brave in combat; he is now consideratein triumph. Is this a time--are these causes for weeping?"
"You do not know what I have in my heart," pleaded the other--"whatpain, what distraction--nor whence it arises. I can understand that youshould exult in Robert's greatness and goodness; so do I, in one sense,but in another I feel _so_ miserable. I am too far removed from him. Iused to be nearer. Let me alone, Shirley. Do let me cry a few minutes;it relieves me."
Miss Keeldar, feeling her tremble in every limb, ceased to expostulatewith her. She went out of the shed, and left her to weep in peace. Itwas the best plan. In a few minutes Caroline rejoined her, much calmer.She said, with her natural, docile, gentle manner, "Come, Shirley, wewill go home now. I promise not to try to see Robert again till he asksfor me. I never will try to push myself on him. I thank you forrestraining me just now."
"I did it with a good intention," returned Miss Keeldar.
"Now, dear Lina," she continued, "let us turn our faces to the coolmorning breeze, and walk very quietly back to the rectory. We will stealin as we stole out. None shall know where we have been or what we haveseen to-night; neither taunt nor misconstruction can consequently molestus. To-morrow we will see Robert, and be of good cheer; but I will sayno more, lest I should begin to cry too. I seem hard towards you, but Iam not so."