“No, no, no!” panted Mary, as she flung herself upon his breast. “It is what I feared; I believed it, and I came. Oh, for pity’s sake, don’t do that!”
“Yes: I must. You do not know,” he whispered hoarsely, as he tried to unlace her arms from about him.
“Yes, I know that you were about to commit self-murder, and you shall not do this thing,” cried Mary wildly.
“Would you see me dragged away to a living death?” he said. “Listen – do you not hear? Loose me, I say!”
He spoke almost savagely now, as he struggled to get the enlacing hands away; but, as he tore at them, Mary clung the closer, drawing herself more tightly to his breast as her face approached his, and her lips parted, her eyes dilated, and she cried as wildly:
“Then kill me too!” He ceased struggling to look at the flushed, love-illumined face that approached his, unable to grasp the whole meaning of what was said, mentally incapable of interpreting the words and looks, the whole scene being like the phantasm of some delirious fit.
A louder crack of the baize door aroused him, and he started away.
“Don’t you hear?” he whispered. “Don’t you hear?”
“Yes,” cried Mary, still clinging to him; “I hear, and it is help.”
“No, no!” he whispered; “it is those men. Ah, I am too late!”
For at that moment there was a sharp rustling of the bushes, and a man ran up over the lawn, to pause bewildered at the scene before him.
“You, miss – here?” he panted breathlessly. “Old Missus Milt said as the maddus folk was taking the doctor away.”
“What?” cried Mary; and a mist floated before her eyes.
“The maddus folk, miss; and they’ve got a carriage round the front.”
With a strength that was almost superhuman, Mary recovered herself, and grasping the situation, she whispered to North:
“Is this true?”
“Listen,” he said.
Mary clung to him tightly as the sounds of the doors being forced bore unanswerable witness to the words; and then, as if to shield him from the threatened danger, she thrust him from her and followed across the surgery.
“No, no!” she panted. “Quick, before it is too late.”
“Go?” he said, in answer to her frenzied appeal.
“Yes, yes; quick – quick! The garden – the meadows.”
North seemed dazed, but Joe Chegg, who had run excitedly to the Manor after meeting the old housekeeper, more with the idea of seeing what was going on than affording help, now caught North’s arm and hurried him out of the surgery and down the nearest path, then in and out among the dense shrubs, so that they were well out of sight before the door yielded, and Cousin Thompson’s emissaries found their prey had gone.
North made no opposition to the efforts of those who held him on either side; but, weak with long fasting, and now utterly dazed, he staggered from time to time, and would have fallen but for the sustaining arms.
“Rect’ry, miss? All right,” said Joe Chegg. “Hold up, sir, or you’ll be down.”
For North had made a lurch, and clung wildly to the sturdy young fellow.
“Oh, try – pray try!” moaned Mary, as she gazed back. “Now; I’ll help all I can.”
“I’ll manage him,” said Joe, who took the appeal to himself. “You let him lean on me. Why, I thought, miss, as how you couldn’t walk.”
“Hush! don’t speak. They may hear us,” whispered Mary, gazing fearfully back as they pressed on through the meadows with the bottom of the Rectory garden still a couple of hundred yards away, when, as Mary glanced sidewise at North, she saw his eyes close, and at the same moment his legs gave way, and he sank towards the grass.
Mary uttered a piteous groan and gazed at Chegg, who had loosened his hold on North’s arm, and now stood with hat raised, scratching his head.
“Now, if some one else was here,” he muttered; and then, in answer to an unspoken question, he cried aloud: “Well, I d’know, miss; but, anyhow, I’ll try.”
A life of toil had made the young fellow’s muscles pretty tough, or else he could not have risen so sturdily after kneeling down, and, contriving to get North upon his shoulder, to start off once more, with Mary urging him to use every exertion, for a shout from behind had thrilled her, and on looking back it was to see two men coming along the meadow at a quick trot, while a third was walking swiftly behind.
Volume Three – Chapter Twenty.
A Race for Liberty
It was a close race, and Mary Salis felt that, ere many minutes had passed, the strange force which had nerved her so that she had traversed the distance between the two houses, and then enabled her to go through the scene which followed, would fail; but still she struggled on, with their pursuers gaining so rapidly that the gate which gave upon the meadows had hardly been passed and dashed to, and the feeling that at last they were in comparative safety, given her fresh strength, when the two keepers came up, and without hesitation threw open the gate, and followed into the Rectory orchard.
Joe Chegg had lowered his burden on to the ground as the men reached the gate.
“What’ll I do, miss?”
“Stand by me,” panted Mary, stooping to catch Horace’s hand in hers; and then, sinking on one knee, she held to it tightly with both her own.
“Stand by you, miss?” cried Joe. “Yes; I’ll do that; but you run and call for help.”
“No, no,” cried Mary; “I will not go.”
“Now, then,” cried Joe, “what is it? You know you’re a-trespassing here?”
“You get out,” growled one of the men; and he thrust the sturdy young fellow roughly aside.
It was a mistake on the keeper’s part, for Joe Chegg’s father was a Bilston man, notorious in his time for the pugnacity of his life.
His mantle, or rather his disposition to take off his coat, had fallen upon his son, and the result of the rude thrust was that Joe Chegg rebounded so violently that the keeper went staggering back, and by the time he recovered, and his companion was about to join in the attack, Joe had proved himself to be the son of his father, for his coat was lying on the ground.
This was awkward. The keepers were accustomed to tussles with insane patients, and they were ready for a fight with Horace North, and to do anything to force him into the carriage waiting at the Manor House. But Joe Chegg was sane, sturdy, and had begun to square.
A fight with the stout young Warwick man was not in their instructions, and they called a parley.
“Look here, miss,” said the one who had been struck surlily; “just call your bulldog off. We don’t want no trouble, and you’re doing a very foolish thing; so let us do our dooty and go.”
As he spoke he advanced, but a feint from Joe made him flinch, though he gave the young fellow a very ugly look.
“This is an outrage,” cried Mary, rising and speaking now firmly. “What does it mean?”
“It means, madam,” said a voice, as the tall, dark medical man who had visited twice at the Manor now came upon the scene, after a very hurried walk through the meadows – “it means, madam,” he repeated, for he was breathless, “that Dr North is not in a fit condition to be at large.”
“It is not true!” cried Mary indignantly; though the recollection of what she had witnessed made her quail.
“It is quite true, madam; and his nearest friends have taken steps to have him placed under proper treatment, where he can be restored to health.”
“Where what little reason left to him will be wrecked,” something seemed to say within Mary; and she held on more tightly to North’s hand.
“There, madam,” said the doctor; “I have explained this to you, but I will also add, so that there may be no further unpleasantry, that all these steps have been taken after proper advice, and in strict legal manner. Now, be kind enough to let my men assist the patient to rise, and let us get this sad matter settled as quickly as we can.”
Mary wavered, and the doctor saw it.
“Jones,” he said, “you go and get the carriage round here. It will be much the shortest way.”
“Dr North is a very old and dear friend of ours,” said Mary, recovering herself, and speaking with dignity; “and I cannot stand by, in my brother’s absence, and see what seems to me to be an outrage committed.”
“Ah, your brother is away,” said the doctor. “It is a pity, for gentlemen are better to deal with than ladies in a case like this. There, my dear madam, pray accept my assurances that everything is right, and that Dr North will be taken the greatest care of, and restored to you soon perfectly sane and well. Pray be good enough to stand aside.”
“No,” cried Mary firmly; “he shall not go.”
“Just say the word, miss,” whispered Joe Chegg.
“Jones!” shouted the doctor; “come back!”
The second keeper, who was nearly through the orchard, came back, and it was a case of three to one; but Joe Chegg was not intimidated.
“Look here,” he said. “Miss Salis says he isn’t to go, and you’re trespassing here. Hi! you Dally Watlock!” he shouted, as he caught sight of the little maid coming down the orchard; “you let loose that there dog.”
Dally hesitated while, in response to a word from the doctor, the keepers advanced; and they would have succeeded in their task – Joe Chegg’s brave efforts being doomed to failure by the baffling movements of the well-dressed doctor, whom he hesitated to strike – but succour arrived in the person of Salis, who came running down the orchard, red-faced and excited.
The odds were so reduced that a fresh parley ensued, the doctor giving his explanations now once more in answer to the indignant questions of Salis:
“How dare you insult my sister?” followed by another, “How dare you insult my friend?”
“Law or no law, sir,” cried Salis, at last, “Dr North is on my premises, where, so to speak, he has taken sanctuary. You are acting at the wish of Mr Thompson?”
The doctor bowed.
“Then fetch Mr Thompson here.”
“Really, sir – ” began the doctor.
“That will do, sir,” cried Salis. “You have heard my decision. If the law forces me to give up my friend, I may be compelled; but I will not give him up to you and these men now. Chegg, see these persons off the Rectory grounds.”
There was no help for it. A struggle would have resulted in the raising of the village, and, shrugging his shoulders, the doctor beat an ignominious retreat with his men.
“Mary!” exclaimed Salis, now for the first time realising the miracle that seemed to have occurred; “is this you?”
The poor girl did not speak, but stood gazing at him with her eyes growing dim, while before he could catch her she sank, first upon her knees, and then forward with her head upon North’s breast, while her soft, fair hair escaped from the bands which held it, and fell loosely about her marble face.
Volume Three – Chapter Twenty One.
Cleaning a Room
Earlier on that day Dally sat in her bedroom watching from the window, as she had often watched before when it was night.
Her little, rosy face was a study, and her dark eyes glistened like those of an eager rat.
She had well calculated her time, and before long saw Leo come out, book in hand, for her customary walk up and down the garden.
Dally wasted no time, but hurried to Mary’s room to listen for a few moments, and then steal into Leo’s, where she peered in for a moment, and then hurried out to return with a dustpan and brush and a duster. These she placed upon chair and floor to cover her appearance should Leo return; while, after a rummage in her pocket, she brought out a little key.
Before using this she darted to the window, and waited till she could see Leo going from the house, when, with rat-like action, she made for a chest of drawers, upon which stood a desk, opened it with the speed of one accustomed to the task, and lifting one side, thrust in her hand, to draw out a packet of letters tied with a ribbon.
The top one bore a postmark only two days old, and this the girl drew out, skimmed over as rapidly as her illiterate brain would allow, and as she read her countenance changed again and again.
“Ah!” she ejaculated, at last. “You would, would you?” and taking up a pencil from the tray, and a new envelope, she laboriously copied out what seemed to be an address.
Then, with a smile of triumph, she hurriedly refolded the letter and replaced it in the packet, thrust the newly addressed envelope in her bosom, re-locked the desk, and had hardly destroyed all signs of her action, when she heard a slight cough.
Dally ran more rat-like than ever to the place where the dustpan and brush lay, plumped down on her knees, and began to work with her back to the door, humming away in a low tone as busily as could be amongst the dust she raised.
“Dally!” cried Leo, opening the door.
“Yes, miss.”
“Oh, what a dreadful dust! You know I don’t like this unnecessary sweeping going on.”
“But it wanted doing so badly, miss, and you were gone out in the garden.”
“Yes, yes; but leave off, that’s a good girl, now. I want to sit down and read.”
“Yes, miss,” said Dally, hurriedly using the duster.
“Do you know where my brother has gone?”
“No, miss; don’t you?”
“No,” said Leo wearily.
“Oh, yes, I do, miss; he went to the Manor House, and then he come back to Miss Mary, and I think now he’s gone to King’s Hampton.”
“Oh,” said Leo wearily. “That will do; and don’t come to tidy up my room again without asking leave.”
“No, miss,” said Dally, retreating and going back to her own room, where she threw her housemaid’s utensils on the bed, and took out and read the address on the envelope, “Telacot’s Hotel, Craven Street, Strand.”
“Don’t you be afraid, miss,” she muttered, “I won’t tidy up your room again. Oh, what treachery there is in this world! But wait, my dear, and you shall see!”
She replaced the envelope, and stood thinking for a few moments before coming to a decision, and then —
“I haven’t been there dozens of time for gran’fa for nothing,” she said, half aloud. “I know, and I will.
“But suppose —
“He wouldn’t,” she said, after a pause. “They say he never comes out of his room except at night – I will.”
Five minutes after she was going down the garden ostensibly to pick that bunch of parsley, and to obtain it she went to the very bottom of the kitchen garden, and thence into the meadows, through which she almost ran till she reached the bottom of the Manor House grounds, and then, knowing the place as she had from childhood, she easily made her way, unseen, to the surgery, to be found by North.
Dally returned triumphantly, but she did not take the brandy to her grandfather, but deposited it in her box in the bedroom before going about her work as calmly as if she had nothing more important in her mind than dusters and brooms, and the keeping tidy of the portions of the Rectory within her province.
But nothing missed her piercing little eyes, which seemed to glitter as the various matters occurred, and in the intervals she packed a few necessaries in a large reticule bag, which she hung over the iron knob of her bedstead in company with her jacket and hat.
No servant could have been more attentive, or apparently innocent-looking as she stared at Joe Chegg, who, after helping Salis to bear North into the drawing-room, was relegated to the kitchen to be refreshed.
Joe stared hard at her with an indignant frown, as he slowly ground up masses of bread and cheese, and washed them down with copious draughts of ale.
But Joe’s frowns had no effect upon Dally, and her aspect was simplicity itself, as, after a time, he took to shaking his head at her solemnly, following up each shake of the head with a sigh, and then apparently easing his sufferings by an angry bite at the bread.
Each time Joe looked and frowned, Dally replied with a simple, innocent maiden’s round-eyed, wondering gaze, which seemed to ask why he did not speak and say what he had to say.
But Joe Chegg said nothing, only ate, and frowned, and shook his head till he had done; and after a time Dally, having nothing else to do, thrust a little plump hand right down a black stocking till her knuckles represented the heel which had been peering through a large hole, and then and there she began to make worsted trellis-work which looked to Joe Chegg very similar to what he had often done in wood.
The drawing-room bell rang, but before Dally could answer it, Salis appeared at the door.
“Don’t go away, Chegg, my lad,” he said. “I don’t know what visitors may come, and I should like you to hang about the place and watch.”
“Well, you see, sir,” said Joe sturdily, “there’s a man’s time.”
“Oh, yes,” said Salis, smiling; “you shall be paid double time.”
“For how long, sir?”
“Wait and see; and keep a good lookout about the premises.”
He said these words as he was leaving the kitchen door, and met Leo in the hall, directly after, with her handsome eyes looking at him inquiringly.
It was observable, too, in the kitchen that Dally’s countenance looked a little more intent and she bent a little more over her stocking, and began to hum as she darned, while Joe Chegg took up the ale mug, and, after looking into it meditatively, began to work the table-spoonful left at the bottom round and round as if he were preparing an experiment whose aim was to keep one little blot of froth right in the centre like a tiny island of foam in a small sea of beer.
“Yes; I’ll watch,” he said to the mug; “and it won’t be the first time. It arn’t much goes on as I don’t see.”
Dally hummed and ceased to look catlike in her quiescence, for her aspect was kittenish now, and her hum deepened every now and then into a purr.
“Strange things goes on in this here village,” continued Joe, gazing into the mug; “and I sees a deal of what young ladies and persons does.”
Daily’s purr would now have done credit to a Persian puss: it was so soft and pleasant and round.
“But of all the things as ever I’ve see o’ young ladies, I never see aught as ekalled the way as Miss Mary’s got strong and well.”
Dally hummed now, and her tones were those of a musical bee, while the trellis-work in the stocking grew and grew.
“Well,” said Joe, after getting the drop of froth to stand very high out of its beery-whirlpool, “I’m a-goin’ to play policeman now.”
He tossed the remainder of the beer into his throat, and set down the mug.
“There arn’t many jobs as comes amiss to me.”
He rose and walked out of the kitchen, and as Dally saw him from the window on his way round to the front, she gave her stocking-covered fist a dab down on the table and uttered an angry “Ugh!”
Joe Chegg was not playing policeman long before he ran to the front door and knocked.
“Mist – Salis, sir! Mist – Salis. Here’s one on ’em.”
Salis was with North, and did not hear, so that when a keen old gentleman with white hair alighted from a fly, it was to find the door barred by the sturdy young workman.
“Is Dr North here?”
“What do you want with Dr North?” cried Joe surlily.
“I am a medical man, my lad,” said the old gentleman, smiling. “I have come down from London to see him.”
“Yes, I thought you had,” said Joe; “and you can’t see him, so you may just go back, as the t’others have done before. Eh? Oh, I beg pardon, sir. I thought it was the wrong sort.”
For Salis, hearing the altercation, had hurried out, and a brief explanation had set all straight.
“Poor fellow, poor fellow!” said the doctor, after following Salis into his room and hearing an explanation of the case. “Overwrought, I suppose. Well, let’s see him.”
They went to the darkened drawing-room to pause at the door, the doctor making a sign to Salis to stay while he watched the patient, who was ignorant of his presence.
North was lying back on the sofa with his eyes nearly closed, and Mary seated near, holding his hand, and bent towards him as if listening to his breathing.
Suddenly he started – crying out wildly as his eyes opened with a dilated stare; but as he tried to rise, Mary’s soft white hand was laid upon his forehead, and he sank back with a sigh of restfulness; his eyes closed again, and he lay breathing calmly.
Salis looked at Mr Delton, but the old man did not stir. Here was the case developing itself before him, and he could not study it better than unobserved.
Salis was about to re-enter the room, when Dally came and summoned him by pulling his sleeve.
“What is it?” he said sharply, as he turned.
“Mrs Milt, to see you, sir.”
Salis hesitated.
“I will wait till you return,” whispered the old doctor. “I am well employed.”
Salis hurried to where the old housekeeper was waiting.
“I’ve just heard that master is here, sir,” cried the old woman excitedly. “Oh, I am thankful! I found these papers in the study, sir; they were in an envelope directed to me, sir, and this one for the doctor master knows in London.”
Salis uttered a cry of joy.
“Mr Delton is with your master,” he said.
Mrs Milt sighed.
“Let me go to him, sir, please.”
Salis signed to her to follow, and led the way to where North lay now as if asleep, with Mary’s hand held to his brow.
The old housekeeper stood for a few moments watching, and then drew back.
“No, sir,” she said; “I won’t disturb him. I haven’t seen him look like that for weeks.”
“And I will not disturb him,” said the old doctor. “Rest like that must be good.”
He followed Salis into the dining-room, where he sat down to read the communication North had written, and after studying it carefully for some time, he looked up to find the curate’s eyes fixed upon him intently.
“Well?”
“Well, Mr Salis, I think I can say a comforting word or two. By the way, I thought I would come on straight to you instead of calling first at the Manor House, and it is as well I did.”
“But the letter, sir – the letter from my poor friend?”
“Ah, yes, the letter,” said the old doctor dreamily. “I have read and studied it well.”
“And you think?”
“A great deal, my dear sir – a great deal; but I have not finished yet. A clear case of overtaxed brain. I should say that he had worked himself into a state of exhaustion, and then some shock must have occurred to destroy the tottering balance. Not a money trouble, for I think Mr North is well off. Not a love trouble, for judging from what I saw – ”
“You are mistaken in that, sir,” said Salis. “My poor friend suffered a grievous shock a short time since.”
“Ah! just as I expected. That is quite sufficient to account for it all.”
“But the future, sir? For goodness’ sake, speak! Your reticence tortures me.”
“I beg your pardon. I am thoughtful and slow, Mr Salis. Let me try and set you at rest. As far as I can judge without further study of the case, I should say that you need be under very little uneasiness.”
“You do not consider his case necessitates his being placed in a private asylum?”
“I should say the people who placed him in one deserved to be hanged. Well, no,” he added, smiling; “not so bad as that, but to be placed in a private asylum themselves.”
“Thank God!” said Salis fervently, and the tears stood in his eyes as he grasped the old doctor’s hands.
The evening was growing old as Mr Delton sat facing Salis in his study, nursing his knee, and calmly watching the curate smoking his one per diem cigar.
“No,” said the old man, smiling; “I rarely smoke now; but North was right; it is good for you. I don’t mind a bit. Pray go on.”
So Salis smoked and sat talking with the tea-things on the table.
Leo had begged to be excused. The excitement had upset her, she said, and she was in her room, where Dally had taken her up some tea, and paused for some moments on the landing, in the dark, to set the saucer down upon the large window sill, and as she bent over the tray a faint gurgling sound was heard, and click as of glass against glass.
The doctor had been in twice to see North, who was sleeping heavily, with Mary and the old housekeeper seated by him, the lamp being shaded and placed where the light could not trouble the patient; and, after a stormy day, all seemed to have settled down to calm repose.
“My dear sir,” said the doctor, “it is not the first time that Nature has performed a miracle of this kind. Your sister’s nervous excitement did what we doctors were unable to perform – triumphed over the inert muscles. They obeyed; the latent force was set in action, and she rose from her couch to go to her poor friend’s help – in time to save him from a very terrible fate, whether that fate was the private asylum, or that which he had evidently in mind. Poor fellow! I wish I had seen him sooner. No; it is better as it is, and he will say so when we have him once more himself.”
