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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Norston's Rest, by Ann S. Stephens
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Norston's Rest
+
+Author: Ann S. Stephens
+
+Release Date: August 23, 2011 [EBook #37168]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NORSTON'S REST ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roberta Staehlin, David Garcia, Matthew Wheaton
+and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
+https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
+generously made available by The Internet Archive/American
+Libraries.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+    NORSTON'S REST.
+
+    BY
+
+    MRS. ANN S. STEPHENS.
+
+
+    AUTHOR of "BERTHA'S ENGAGEMENT," "FASHION AND FAMINE," "MABEL'S
+    MISTAKE," "THE OLD COUNTESS," "RUBY GRAY'S STRATEGY," "THE
+    REIGNING BELLE," "LORD HOPE'S CHOICE," "MARRIED IN HASTE," "THE
+    SOLDIER'S ORPHANS," "WIVES AND WIDOWS; OR, THE BROKEN LIFE,"
+    "MARY DERWENT," "THE OLD HOMESTEAD," "A NOBLE WOMAN," "THE CURSE
+    OF GOLD," "THE GOLD BRICK," "DOUBLY FALSE," "PALACES AND
+    PRISONS," "THE HEIRESS," "SILENT STRUGGLES," "REJECTED WIFE,"
+    "BELLEHOOD AND BONDAGE," "WIFE'S SECRET."
+
+
+        _Why did he love her? Ask the passing breeze
+          Why it has left the lilies in their bloom--
+        The great white blossoms of magnolia trees,
+          And jasmine flowers, that kindle up the gloom
+        Of Southern woods, where the vast live oak grows,
+        And mocking birds sing love notes to the rose.
+        Ask why it turned from these and lowly flew
+        To kiss the purple violets in their dew._
+
+        _Yes, ask the breezes;--love is like to them
+          In the free poising of his restless wing.
+        Sometimes he searches for a priceless gem,
+          But often takes a pebble from the spring.
+        To his veiled eyes the humble pebble shines
+        Bright as a jewel from Golconda's mines.
+        Expect no answer why love chooses so--
+        His reasons are as vague as winds that blow._
+
+
+    PHILADELPHIA;
+    T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS;
+    306 CHESTNUT STREET.
+
+
+    Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1877, by
+    T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS,
+    In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C.
+
+
+    MRS. ANN S. STEPHENS' WORKS.
+
+    Each work is complete in one volume, 12mo.
+
+    _NORSTON'S REST._
+    _BERTHA'S ENGAGEMENT._
+    _BELLEHOOD AND BONDAGE; or, Bought With A Price._
+    _LORD HOPE'S CHOICE; or, More Secrets Than One._
+    _THE OLD COUNTESS. Sequel to Lord Hope's Choice._
+    _A NOBLE WOMAN; or, A Gulf Between Them._
+    _PALACES AND PRISONS; or, The Prisoner of the Bastile._
+    _WIVES AND WIDOWS; or, The Broken Life._
+    _RUBY GRAY'S STRATEGY; or, Married By Mistake._
+    _FASHION AND FAMINE._
+    _THE CURSE OF GOLD; or, The Bound Girl and Wife's Trials._
+    _MABEL'S MISTAKE; or, The Lost Jewels._
+    _SILENT STRUGGLES; or, Barbara Stafford._
+    _THE WIFE'S SECRET; or, Gillian._
+    _THE HEIRESS; or, The Gipsy's Legacy._
+    _THE REJECTED WIFE; or, The Ruling Passion._
+    _THE OLD HOMESTEAD; or, The Pet From the Poor House._
+    _DOUBLY FALSE; or, Alike and Not Alike._
+    _THE REIGNING BELLE._
+    _MARRIED IN HASTE._
+    _THE SOLDIER'S ORPHANS._
+    _MARY DERWENT._
+    _THE GOLD BRICK._
+
+    Price of each, $1.75 in Cloth; or $1.50 in Paper Cover.
+
+    Above books are for sale by all Booksellers. Copies of any one
+    or all of the above books, will be sent to any one, to any place,
+    postage pre-paid, on receipt of their price by the Publishers,
+    T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS,
+    306 CHESTNUT STREET, PHILADELPHIA, PA.
+
+
+    TO
+    MRS. GEN. WILLIAM LESLIE CAZNEAU,
+    OF
+    KEITH HALL, JAMAICA, W. I.
+
+    ONE OF
+    THE OLDEST AND DEAREST FRIENDS THAT I HAVE,
+    THIS BOOK
+    IS MOST AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED.
+
+    ANN S. STEPHENS.
+
+    NEW YORK , _May 31, 1877_.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+    CHAPTER
+          I. GATHERING OF THE HUNT
+         II. THE HILL-SIDE HOUSE
+        III. WAITING AND WATCHING
+         IV. THE SON'S RETURN
+          V. CONFESSING HIS LOVE
+         VI. CONFESSIONS OF LOVE
+        VII. JUDITH
+       VIII. WAITING FOR HIM
+         IX. THE NEXT NEIGHBOR
+          X. JEALOUS PASSIONS
+         XI. PROTEST AND APPEAL
+        XII. THE HEART STRUGGLE
+       XIII. ONE RASH STEP
+        XIV. ON THE WAY HOME
+         XV. THE LADY ROSE
+        XVI. ALONE IN THE COTTAGE
+       XVII. A STORMY ENCOUNTER
+      XVIII. AN ENCOUNTER
+        XIX. FATHER AND DAUGHTER
+         XX. THE TWO THAT LOVED HIM
+        XXI. BOTH HUSBAND AND FATHER
+       XXII. WAS IT LIFE OR DEATH?
+      XXIII. BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH
+       XXIV. A FATHER'S MISGIVING
+        XXV. THE BIRD AND THE SERPENT
+       XXVI. TRUE AS STEEL
+      XXVII. A CRUEL DESERTION
+     XXVIII. THE WIFE'S VISIT
+       XXIX. BY MY MOTHER IN HEAVEN
+        XXX. THE BARMAID OF THE TWO RAVENS
+       XXXI. THE OLD LAKE HOUSE
+      XXXII. THE NEW LEASE
+     XXXIII. SHARPER THAN A SERPENT'S TOOTH
+      XXXIV. THE SICK MAN WRITES A LETTER
+       XXXV. WITH THE HOUSEKEEPER
+      XXXVI. UNDER THE IVY
+     XXXVII. A STORM AT THE TWO RAVENS
+    XXXVIII. A PRESENT FROM THE FAIR
+      XXXIX. A WILD-FLOWER OFFERING
+         XL. SEEKING A PLACE
+        XLI. THE FATHER'S SICK-ROOM
+       XLII. PROFFERED SERVICES
+      XLIII. THE LOST LETTER
+       XLIV. THE HOUSEKEEPER'S VISIT
+        XLV. EXCELLENT ADVICE
+       XLVI. THE SERPENT IN HER PATH
+      XLVII. NIGHT ON THE BALCONY
+     XLVIII. WATCHING HER RIVAL
+       XLIX. BROODING THOUGHTS
+          L. YOUNG HURST AND LADY ROSE
+         LI. THE GODMOTHER'S MISTAKE
+        LII. SITTING AT THE WINDOW
+       LIII. DEATH
+        LIV. THE GARDENER'S FUNERAL
+         LV. SEARCHING A HOUSE
+        LVI. A MOTHER'S HOPEFULNESS
+       LVII. WAITING AT THE LAKE HOUSE
+      LVIII. SIR NOEL'S VISITOR
+        LIX. PLEADING FOR DELAY
+         LX. LOVE AND HATE
+        LXI. HUNTED DOWN
+       LXII. STORMS AND LADY ROSE
+      LXIII. THE PRICE OF A LIFE
+       LXIV. JUDITH'S RETURN
+        LXV. ON THE PRECIPICE
+       LXVI. SIR NOEL AND RUTH
+      LXVII. SHOWING THE WAY
+     LXVIII. FORSAKING HER HOME
+       LXIX. THE SOUL'S DANGER
+        LXX. ON THE TRAIN
+       LXXI. THE SPIDER'S WEB
+      LXXII. THE MARRIAGE CERTIFICATE
+     LXXIII. SEARCHING THE LAKE HOUSE
+      LXXIV. COMING HOME
+
+
+
+
+NORSTON'S REST.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+GATHERING OF THE HUNT.
+
+
+In the highest grounds of a park, almost an estate in itself, stood
+one of those noble old mansions that are so interwoven with the
+history of mother England, that their architecture alone is a record
+of national stability and ever-increasing civilization, written out in
+the strength of stone and the beauty of sculpture. This building,
+however grand in historical associations, was more especially the
+monument of one proud race, the Hursts of "Norston's Rest."
+
+Generation after generation the Hursts had succeeded in unbroken
+descent to "The Rest" and its vast estates since the first foundation
+stone was laid, and that was so long ago that its present incumbent,
+Sir Noel Hurst, would have smiled in derision had the Queen offered to
+exchange his title for that of a modern duke.
+
+Sir Noel might well be proud of his residence, which, like its owners,
+had kept pace with the progress of art and the discoveries of science
+known to the passing generations; for each had contributed something
+to its gradual construction, since the first rough tower was built
+with the drawbridge and battlements of feudal times, to the present
+imposing structure, where sheets of plate glass took the place of
+arrow slits, and the lace-work of sculpture was frozen into stone upon
+its walls.
+
+This glorious old park, like the mansion it surrounded, brought much
+of its antique beauty from the dead ages. Druid stones were to be
+found beneath its hoary old oaks. Its outer verge was wild as an
+American forest, and there one small lake of deep and inky blackness
+scarcely felt a gleam of sunshine from month to month. But nearer the
+old mansion this wilderness was turned into an Eden: lawns of velvet
+grass--groves where the sunshine shone through the bolls of the trees,
+turning the grass under them to gold--lakes starred half the summer
+with the snow of water-lilies--rose gardens that gave a rare sweetness
+to the passing wind--shadowy bridle-paths and crystal streams spanned
+by stone bridges--all might be seen or guessed at from the broad
+terrace that fronted the mansion.
+
+Here all was light gayety and pleasant confusion. Sir Noel had many
+guests in the house, and they were all out upon the terrace, forming a
+picture of English life such as no country on earth can exhibit with
+equal perfection.
+
+It was the first day of the hunt, and the gay inmates of the house
+were out in the bright freshness of the morning, prepared for a
+glorious run with the hounds. The gentlemen brilliant in scarlet, the
+ladies half rivalling them in masculine hats, but softening the effect
+with gossamer veils wound scarf-like around them, and a graceful flow
+of dark drapery.
+
+Beneath, breaking up the gravel of the carriage road with many an
+impatient hoof, was a crowd of grooms holding slender-limbed horses,
+whose coats shone like satin, when the sun touched them, while their
+hoofs smote the gravel like the restless feet of gipsy dancing-girls
+when a thrill of music stirs the blood.
+
+Further on keepers were scattered about, some looking admiringly at
+the brilliant picture before them, others holding back fiery young
+dogs, wild for a run with their companions of the kennel.
+
+Gradually the light laughter and cheerful badinage passing on the
+terrace died into the silence of expectation. The party was evidently
+incomplete. Sir Noel was there in his usual dress, speaking with
+polite composure, but casting an anxious look now and then into the
+open doors of the hall.
+
+Some fair lady was evidently waited for who was to ride the chestnut
+horse drawn up nearest the steps, where he was tossing his head with
+an impatience that half lifted the groom from his feet when he
+attempted to restrain the reckless action.
+
+It was the Lady Rose, a distant relative of Sir Noel's, who had been
+her guardian from childhood, and now delighted to consider her
+mistress of "The Rest," a position he fondly hoped she might fill for
+life.
+
+Sir Noel came forward as she appeared, and for a moment the two stood
+together, contrasted by years, but alike in the embodiment of
+patrician elegance. She in the bloom and loveliness of her youth: he
+in that exquisite refinement which had been his inheritance through a
+long line of cultivated and honorable ancestry. Turning from Sir Noel,
+Lady Rose apologized to his guests, and with a winning smile, besought
+their forgiveness for her tardy appearance.
+
+That moment a young man, who had been giving some orders to the
+grooms, came up the steps and approached the lady.
+
+"Have you become impatient?" she said, blushing a little. "I am so
+grieved!"
+
+The young man smiled, as he gave her a fitting answer. Then you saw at
+once the relationship that he held with Sir Noel. It was evident, not
+only in the finely cut features, but in the dignified quietude of
+manner that marked them both.
+
+"Mack has no idea of good breeding, and is getting fiercely
+impatient," he said, glancing down at the chestnut horse.
+
+Lady Rose cast a bright smile upon her guests.
+
+"Ladies, do not let me keep you waiting."
+
+There was a general movement toward the steps, but the young lady
+turned to Sir Noel again.
+
+"Dear uncle, I wish you were going. I remember you in hunting-dress
+when I was a little girl."
+
+"But I have grown old since then," answered the baronet, with a faint
+smile.
+
+"This is my first day, and I shall be almost afraid without you," she
+pleaded.
+
+The baronet smiled, shook his head, and glanced at his son.
+
+"You will have younger and better care," he said.
+
+The young man understood this as a request that he should take
+especial care of his cousin, for such the lady was in a remote degree,
+and for an instant seemed to hesitate. Lady Rose saw this, and, with a
+hot flush on her face, ran down the steps.
+
+Young Hurst was by her side in a second, but she sprang to the saddle,
+scarcely touching his proffered hand with her foot; then wheeled the
+chestnut on one side, and waited for the rest to mount.
+
+Down came the party, filling the broad stairway with shifting colors,
+chatting, laughing, and occasionally giving out little affected
+screams, as one fell short of the saddle, or endangered her seat by a
+too vigorous leap; but all this only added glee to the occasion, and a
+gayer party than that never left the portal of "Norston's Rest" even
+in the good old hawking days of long ago.
+
+Young Hurst took his place by the side of Lady Rose, and was about to
+lead the cavalcade down the broad avenue, which swept through more
+than a mile of the park before it reached the principal entrance gate,
+but instantly there arose a clamor of feminine opposition.
+
+"Not that way! It would lead them in the wrong direction; let them
+take a run through the park. They would have rougher riding than that
+before the day was over."
+
+Young Hurst seemed disturbed by this proposal; he even ventured to
+expostulate with his father's guests. "The park was rough in places,"
+he said, "and the side entrance narrow for so large a party."
+
+His argument was answered by a merry laugh. The ladies turned their
+horses defiantly, and a cloud of red coats followed them. Away to the
+right the whole cavalcade took its way where the sun poured its golden
+streams on the turf under the trees, or scattered itself among the
+leaves of the hoary old oaks that in places grew dangerously close
+together.
+
+As they drew toward that portion of the park known as "The
+Wilderness," a wonderfully pretty picture arrested the swift progress
+of the party, and the whole cavalcade moved more slowly as it came
+opposite a small rustic cottage of stone, old, moss-grown, and
+picturesque, wherever its hoary walls could be seen, through masses of
+ivy and climbing roses. One oriel window was discovered through the
+white jasmine that clustered around it, and the verbenas, heliotrope,
+and scarlet geraniums that crept beneath it from the ground.
+
+The vast park, in whose deepest and coolest verdure this little
+dwelling stood, was like a world in itself; but through the noble old
+trees the stately mansion-house they had left could be seen in
+glimpses from this more humble dwelling. This stood on the edge of a
+ravine, left in all its ferny wildness, through which a stream of
+crystal water leaped and sparkled, and sent back soft liquid murmurs,
+as it flowed down in shadows, or leaped in bright cascades to a lake
+that lay in the wildest and lowest depths of the park, as yet
+invisible. Young Hurst had urged his horse forward when he came in
+sight of this wood-nest, and an angry flush swept over his face when
+the party slackened its speed to a walk, and for an instant stopped
+altogether, as it came in front of the rustic porch; for there, as if
+startled by the sudden rush of hoofs, stood a young girl, framed in by
+the ivy and jasmine. She had one foot on the threshold of the door,
+and was looking back over her left shoulder, as if held in that
+charming attitude by a sudden impulse of curiosity while she was
+retreating. Two or three exclamations broke from the gentlemen, who
+were taken by surprise by this beautiful picture; for in her pose, in
+the dark frightened eyes, and the warm coloring of face and garments,
+the girl was a wonder of picturesque beauty.
+
+"Who is she? Where did the pretty gipsy come from?" questioned one of
+the gentlemen nearest to Hurst. "Upon my word, she hardly seems
+real."
+
+"She is the daughter of my father's gardener," said Hurst, lifting his
+hunting-cap as the girl's eyes sought him out in her sudden panic.
+"Shall we ride on, gentlemen? Our presence seems to disturb her."
+
+"Is it true? Is the pretty thing only a gardener's child?" questioned
+one of the ladies, drawing close to Lady Rose.
+
+"She certainly is only that," was the low, almost forced answer. "We
+have always thought her pretty, and she is certainly good."
+
+Hurst heard this and turned a grateful look upon the fair girl. She
+saw it, and for an instant the color left her face. Then she touched
+her horse, and the cavalcade dashed after her through the depths of
+the park and into the open country, where the hounds were to meet, all
+feeling in a different way that there was some mystery in the living
+picture they had admired.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+THE HILL-SIDE HOUSE.
+
+
+At the grand entrance of the park a young man had been waiting with a
+desperate determination to take some part in the hunt, though he was
+well aware that his presence in such company must be an intrusion; for
+he was the only son of a farmer on the estate, and had just received
+education enough to unfit him for usefulness in his own sphere of life
+and render his presumption intolerable to those above him.
+
+He had not ventured on a full hunting-suit, but wore the cap, boots,
+and gloves with an air that should, he was determined, distinguish him
+from any of the grooms, and perhaps admit him into the outskirts of
+the hunt, if audacity could accomplish nothing more. The horse, which
+he sat with some uneasiness, had been purchased for the occasion
+unknown to his father, who had intrusted the selection of a farm-horse
+to his judgment, and was quite ignorant that the beast had been taken
+out for any other purpose. As the young man rode this horse up and
+down in sight of the gate, a groom came through and answered, when
+questioned about the hunting party, that it had started half an hour
+before across the park.
+
+With an oath at the time he had lost, young Storms put the horse to
+his speed and was soon in the open country, but the animal, though a
+good one, was no match for the full-blooded action for which Sir
+Noel's stables were famous. After riding across the country for an
+hour, as it seemed to him, wondering what course the hunt would take,
+the horse suddenly lifted his ears, gathered up his limbs, and, before
+his rider could guide the movement, leaped a low wall into a
+corn-field and was scouring toward some broken land beyond, when a
+flash of darkness shot athwart his path, and the fox, routed from his
+covert, dashed across the field. After it came the dogs, red-mouthed
+with yelping, clearing the hedges with scattered leaps, and darting
+swiftly, as shot arrows, in the track of the fox.
+
+After them came the hunt, storming across the field, over walls and
+ditches, and winding up the long slope of the hill, scattering rays of
+scarlet flame as it went.
+
+The rush of the dogs, the desperate speed of the fox, maddened Storms,
+as the first bay of the hounds had inspired his horse. He plunged on
+like the rest, eager and cruel as the hounds. For once he would be in
+at the death.
+
+Storms had done some rough riding in preparation for this event, but
+he lacked the cool courage that aids a horse in a swift race or
+dangerous leap. In wild excitement he wheeled and made a dash at the
+wall. The horse took his leap bravely, but a ditch lay on the other
+side, and he fell short, hurling his rider among the weeds and
+brambles that had concealed its depths.
+
+The young man was stunned by the sudden shock, and lay for a time
+motionless among the weeds that had probably saved his life, but he
+gathered himself up at last and looked around. The hunt was just
+sweeping over the crest of the hill, and half-way up its face his
+horse was following, true to its instincts.
+
+The young man felt too giddy for anger, and for a time his mind was
+confused; still no absolute injury had happened to him, and after
+gathering up his cap and dusting his garments, he would have been
+quite ready to mount again, and saw his horse go over the hill with an
+oath which might have been changed to blows had the beast been within
+his control.
+
+The scenery around him was in some respects familiar, but he could not
+recognize it from that standpoint or determine how far he was from
+home. In order to make himself sure of this he mounted the hill, from
+whence he could command a view of the country.
+
+A lovely prospect broke upon the young man when he paused to survey
+it: below him lay a broad valley, composed of a fine expanse of forest
+and farming land, through which a considerable stream sparkled and
+wound and sent its huddling crystal through green hollows and shady
+places till its course was lost in the distance.
+
+This river Storms knew well. It passed through the "Norston's Rest"
+estate, but that was so broad and covered so many miles in extent that
+his position was still in doubt.
+
+Storms was not a man to occupy himself with scenery for its own sake,
+however beautiful or grand; so, after a hurried glance around him, he
+proceeded to mount higher up the hill. The declivity where he stood
+sank down to the river so gradually that several houses were built on
+its slope, and most of the land was under some sort of cultivation.
+The nearest of these houses was a low structure, old and dilapidated,
+on which the sunshine was lying with pleasant brightness. If nature
+had not been so bountiful to this lovely spot, the house might have
+been set down as absolutely poverty-stricken, but, years before, some
+training hand had so guided nature in behalf of the beautiful, that
+Time, in destroying, made it also picturesque.
+
+Storms observed this without any great interest, but he had attained
+some idea of thrift on his father's farm, and saw, with contempt, that
+no sign of plenty, or even comfort, was discernible about the place.
+It was a broken picture--nothing more; but an artist would have longed
+to sketch the old place, for a giant walnut-tree flung its great
+canopy of branches over the roof, and, farther down the slope of the
+hill, a moss-grown old apple orchard, whose gnarled limbs and
+quivering leaves would have driven him wild, had yielded up its
+autumnal fruit.
+
+There was a low, wide porch in front of the house, over which vines of
+scant leafiness and bristling with dead twigs crept toward the
+thatched roof. The walls about the house were broken in many places,
+and left in gaps, through which currant and gooseberry-bushes wound
+themselves outward in green masses.
+
+At the end of this enclosure there had been some attempts at
+gardening; but plenty of weeds were springing up side by side with the
+vegetables, and both were richly overtopped in irregular spaces by
+clusters of thyme that had found root at random among the general
+neglect.
+
+All this might have given joy to a man of aesthetic taste, but Storms
+would never have looked at it a second time but for some object that
+he saw flitting through the garden, that brightened everything around,
+as a tropical bird kindles up the dense foliage of a jungle.
+
+It was a young girl, with a good deal of scarlet in her dress and a
+silk handkerchief of many colors knotted about her neck. She was
+bareheaded, and the sunshine striking down on her abundant black hair,
+sifted a gleam of purple through it, rich beyond description.
+
+The young man was bewildered by this sudden appearance, and stood a
+while gazing upon it. Then his face flushed and a vivid light came
+into his eyes.
+
+"By Jove, there's something worth looking after here," he said. "The
+creature moves like a leopard, and jumps--goodness, how she does jump
+across the beds! I must get a nearer view."
+
+From that distance it was difficult to judge accurately of the girl's
+face; but there was no mistaking the easy sway of her movements or the
+picturesque contrast of her warmly hued garments with the leafy
+shadows around her.
+
+She was evidently a reckless gardener, for half the time she leaped
+directly into the vegetable beds, treading down the shoots that were
+tinging them with departing greenness. All at once she dropped on her
+knees and began to pull up some beets, from which she vigorously shook
+the clinging soil.
+
+When she arose with her handful of green leaves and roots, Storms
+became conscious that the old house, with all its proofs of neglect,
+made an attractive picture.
+
+"I will ask for a cup of milk or a drink of water," he thought; "that
+will give me a good look at her face."
+
+The old house was half-way down the hill, along which the young man
+strolled. The gate scraped a semicircle in the earth as he opened it
+and made for the porch, from which he could see a bare hallway and a
+vista through the back door, which stood open.
+
+A gleam of color which now and then fluttered in view led the young
+man on. The boards creaked under his tread as he went down the hall
+and stood upon the threshold of the door, watching the girl as she
+stooped by the well, holding her garments back with one hand while she
+dashed her vegetables up and down in a pail of water which she had
+just poured from the bucket.
+
+She looked up suddenly, and something that lay in those large black
+eyes, the mobile mouth, the bright expression fascinated him. She was
+picturesque, and just a little awkward the moment she became conscious
+that a stranger was so near her.
+
+"I have had a long walk, and am thirsty. Will you give me a glass of
+water or a cup of milk?" he said, moving toward the well. The girl
+dropped her beets into the pail, and stood gazing on her strange
+visitor, half shy, half belligerent. At last she spoke:
+
+"The cow has not been milked this morning," she said, "and yesterday's
+cream has not been skimmed; but here is water in the bucket, and I
+will bring a cup from the house."
+
+"Thank you."
+
+She was gone in an instant, and came back with a tumbler of thick,
+greenish glass in her hand, which she dipped into the bucket and drew
+out with the water sparkling like diamonds as it overflowed the glass.
+
+As the young man drank, a cow that had been pasturing in the orchard
+thrust its head over the wall and lowed piteously.
+
+The young man smiled as he took the glass from his lips.
+
+"I think the cow yonder would be much happier if I had a cup of her
+milk," he said.
+
+"Well, if you must have it!" answered the girl, dashing some water
+left in the glass on the stones around the well, and, with a careless
+toss of the head, she went into the kitchen and came out carrying a
+pail in one hand and an earthen mug in the other.
+
+"Shall I go with you?" questioned Storms, holding out his hand for the
+pail, but she swung it out of his reach and went down the empty hall,
+laughing the encouragement she would not give in words.
+
+The young man followed her. In pushing open the gate their hands met.
+The girl started, and a hot blush swept her face.
+
+"You should be a gentleman," she said, regarding his dress with some
+curiosity.
+
+Storms blushed crimson. The suggestion flattered him intensely.
+
+"Why should you think so?" he questioned.
+
+"Because working people in these parts never dress like that, gloves
+and all!" she answered, surveying him from head to foot with evident
+admiration. "A whole crowd of them--ladies too--went by just now with
+a swarm of yelping dogs ahead, and a little fox, scared half to death,
+running for its life. Are you one of them?"
+
+"I might have been, only the brute of a horse made a bolt and left me
+behind," said Storms, with rising anger.
+
+"A horse! oh, yes, I saw one limping over the hill after the rest went
+out of sight. Poor fellow, he was lamed."
+
+"I hope so, the brute, for he has given me a long walk home, and no
+end of trouble after, I dare say; but if it hadn't happened, I should
+have missed seeing you."
+
+Again the girl blushed, but carried her confusion off with a toss of
+the head.
+
+That moment the cow, impatient for notice, came up to her, lowing
+softly, and dropping foamy grass from her mouth. Usually it had been
+the girl's habit to plant her foot upon the grass and sit upon the
+heel as she milked; but all at once she became ashamed of this rough
+method, and looked around for something to sit upon. The garden wall
+had broken loose in places. The young man brought a fragment of rock
+from it and dropped it on the ground.
+
+As she seated herself, slanting the pail down before her, he took up
+the mug from the grass where she had dropped it.
+
+"I must have my pay first," he said, stooping down, and holding the
+mug to be filled.
+
+The soft sound of the milk, as it frothed into the mug, was
+overpowered by the laughter of the girl, who saucily turned the white
+stream on his hand.
+
+He laughed also, and shook off the drops, while the foam trembled on
+his lips; then he bent down again, asking for more. Thus, with his
+eyes meeting hers if she looked up, and his breath floating across her
+cheek, this girl went on with her task, wondering in her heart why
+work could all at once have become so pleasant.
+
+"There," she said at last, starting up from her hard seat, "that is
+done. Now she may go back to her pasture."
+
+As if she understood the words, that mild cow walked slowly away,
+cropping a tuft of violets that grew by the stone fence as she went.
+
+Storms reached out his hand for the pail.
+
+"Shall I help you?"
+
+"No, thank you," she answered, turning her black eyes, full of
+mischief, upon him. "I can do very well without."
+
+If this was intended for a rebuff, the young man would not understand
+it as such. He followed her into the house, without waiting for an
+invitation, and remained there for more than an hour, chatting
+familiarly with the girl, whose rude good-humor had particular charms
+for him.
+
+In a crafty but careless way he questioned her of her history and
+domestic life. She answered him freely enough; but there was not much
+to learn. Her father had come into that part of the country when she
+was quite a child. A mother?--Of course she had a mother once, but
+that was before she could remember--long before the old man came to
+that house, which she had kept for him from that day out.
+
+Storms looked around the room in which they sat, and a faint, derisive
+smile came across his lips, for there was dust on everything, and
+venerable cobwebs hung in the corners.
+
+"Wonderful housekeeping it must have been!" he thought, while the girl
+went on.
+
+Did her father own the house? Of course he did; she had seen the
+lease--a long one--which gave it to him for almost nothing, with her
+own eyes. Still, that did not make him very rich, and he had to go out
+to day's work for a living when farmers wanted help, and not having
+much strength to give, got poor wages, and sometimes no work at all.
+
+"Was her father an old man?"
+
+Yes, old enough to be her grandfather. Good as gold, too, for he never
+scolded her, and was sure to make believe he wasn't hungry when she
+had no supper ready after a hard day's work, which was often enough,
+for if there was anything she hated it was washing dishes and setting
+out tables.
+
+"Isn't that rather hard on your father?" questioned the young man.
+
+Judith answered, with a heavy shrug of the shoulders, that she did not
+think it was, for he never did more than heave a little sigh, then
+take up the Bible or some other book, if he could find one, and read
+till bedtime.
+
+"A book! Does he read much?" asked Storms, really surprised.
+
+Read! Judith rather thought he did! Nothing seemed to pacify him when
+he was tired and hungry like a book. Where did he get the books? Why,
+folks were always lending them to him; especially the clergyman. She
+herself might never have learned to read or write if it had not been
+for her father; and then, what would she have done all alone in the
+old house from morning till night? What did she read? Why, everything
+that she could lay her hands on. The girls about had plenty of
+paper-covered books, and she always managed to get hold of them
+somehow. It was when she had promised to read them through in no time
+that her father had to go without his supper oftenest.
+
+Storms asked to look at some of these volumes, if she had any on hand.
+
+After a little hesitation, Judith went into the kitchen and brought a
+soiled novel, with half the paper cover torn off, which had been
+hidden under the bread-tray.
+
+The smile deepened on the young man's lips as he turned over the dingy
+pages and read a passage here and there. After a while he lifted his
+eyes, full of sinister light, to hers, and asked if her father knew
+that she read these books so much.
+
+The girl laughed, and said that she wasn't likely to tell him, when he
+thought she was busy with the tracts and history books that he left
+for her. Then she gave a little start, and looked anxiously out of the
+window, saying, with awkward hesitation, that her father was working
+for the clergyman that day, and might come home early.
+
+Storms arose at once. He had no wish to extend the pleasant
+acquaintance he was making to the old man, if he was "good as gold."
+
+As he passed into the lane, the cow, that was daintily cropping the
+grass on one side, lifted her head and followed him with her great,
+earnest eyes, that seemed to question his presence there as if she had
+been human.
+
+He took a step out of the way and patted her on the neck, at which she
+tossed her head and wheeled up a bank, evidently not liking the
+caresses of a stranger.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+WAITING AND WATCHING.
+
+
+That night, long after the party at "Norston's Rest" had returned from
+the hunt, John Storms, a farmer on the estate, who stood at the door
+of his house chafing and annoyed by the disappearance of his son with
+the new horse that had just been purchased, heard an unequal tramping
+of hoofs and a strange sound of pain from the neighboring stable-yard.
+Taking a lantern, for it was after dark, he went out and was startled
+by the limping approach of the poor hunter, that had found its way
+home and was wandering about the enclosure with the bridle dragging
+under his feet, and empty stirrups swinging from the torn saddle.
+
+The old man had been made sullen and angry enough by the unauthorized
+disappearance of his son with the new purchase; but when he saw the
+empty saddle and disabled condition of the lamed animal, a sudden
+panic seized upon him. He hurried into the house with strange pallor
+on his sunburned face and a tremor of the knees, which made him glad
+to drop into a chair when he reached the kitchen, where his wife was
+moving about her work with the same feverish restlessness that had
+ended so painfully with him.
+
+The woman, startled by his appearance, came up to him in subdued
+agitation.
+
+"It is only that the new beast has come home lamed, and with the
+saddle empty," he said, in reply to her look. "I must go to the
+village, or find some of the grooms. Keep up a good heart, dame, till
+I come back."
+
+"Is he hurt? Oh, John! is there any sign that our lad has come to
+harm?" questioned the poor woman, shaking from head to foot, as she
+supported herself by the back of the chair from which her husband
+started in haste to be off.
+
+"I will soon know--I will soon know"--was his answer. "God help us!"
+
+"God help us!" repeated the woman, dropping helplessly down into the
+chair, as her husband put on his hat and went hurriedly through the
+door; and there she sat trembling until another sound of pain, that
+seemed mournfully human, reached her from the stable-yard.
+
+This appeal to her compassion divided somewhat the agony of her fears,
+and strengthened her for kindly exertion. "Poor beast," she thought,
+"no one is taking care of him."
+
+She looked around; no aid was near. The tired farm-hands had gone to
+bed, or wandered off to the village. She was rather glad of that. It
+was something that she could appease her own anxiety by giving help to
+anything in distress. Taking up the lantern, which was still alight,
+she went toward the stable, and there limping out of the darkness met
+the wounded horse. An active housewife like Mrs. Storms required no
+help in relieving the animal of its trappings. She unbuckled the
+girth, took off the saddle, and passed her hand gently down the fore
+leg, that shrunk and quivered even under that slight touch.
+
+"It is a sprain, and a bad one," she thought, leading the poor beast
+into his stall, where he lay down wearily; "but no bones are broken.
+Oh, if he could only speak now and tell me if my lad is
+alive--or--or--Oh, my God, have mercy upon me, have mercy upon me!"
+
+Here the poor woman leaned her shoulder against the side of the stall,
+and a burning moisture broke into her eyes, filling them with pain;
+for this woman was given to endurance, and, with such, weeping is
+seldom a relief; but looking downward at the pathetic and almost human
+appeal in the great wild eyes of the wounded horse, tears partaking of
+compassion as well as grief swelled into drops and ran down her face
+in comforting abundance. So, patting the poor beast on his soiled
+neck, she went to the house again and heating some decoction of leaves
+that she gathered from under the garden wall, came back with her
+lantern and bathed the swollen limb until the horse laid his head upon
+the straw, and bore the slackened pain with patience.
+
+It was a pity that some other work of mercy did not present itself to
+assuage the suspense that was becoming almost unendurable to a woman
+waiting to know of the life or death of her only son. She could not
+sit down in her accustomed place and wait, but turned from the
+threshold heart-sick, and, still holding the lantern, wandered up and
+down a lane that ran half a mile before it reached the highway--up and
+down until it seemed to her as if unnumbered hours had passed since
+she had seen her husband go forth to learn whether she was a childless
+mother or not. "Would he never come?"
+
+She grew weary at last, and went into the house, looking older by ten
+years than she had done before that shock came, and there she sat,
+perfectly still, gazing into the fire. Once or twice she turned her
+eyes drearily on a wicker basketful of work, where a sock, she had
+been darning before her husband came in, lay uppermost, with a
+threaded darning needle thrust through the heel, but it seemed ages
+since she had laid the work down, and she had no will to take it up;
+for the thought that her son might never need the sock again pierced
+her like a knife.
+
+Turning from the agony of this thought she would fasten her sad eyes
+on the smouldering coals as they crumbled into ashes, starting and
+shivering when some chance noise outside awoke new anguish of
+expectation.
+
+The sound she dared not listen for came at last. A man's footstep,
+slow and heavy, turned from the lane and paused at the kitchen door.
+
+She did not move, she could not breathe, but sat there mute and still,
+waiting.
+
+The door opened, and John Storms entered the kitchen where his wife
+sat. She was afraid to look on his face, and kept her eyes on the
+fire, shivering inwardly. He came across the room and laid his hand on
+her shoulder. Then she gave a start, and looked in her husband's face:
+it was sullenly dark.
+
+"He is not dead?" she cried out; seeing more anger than grief in the
+wrathful eyes. "My son is not dead?"
+
+"No, not dead; keep your mind easy about that; but he and I will have
+a reckoning afore the day breaks, and one he shall remember to his
+dying day. So I warn you keep out of it for this time: I mean to be
+master now."
+
+Here Storms seated himself in an empty chair near the fire, and
+stretching both feet out on the hearth, thrust a hand into each pocket
+of his corduroy dress. With the inconsistency of a rough nature, he
+had allowed the anguish and fright that had seized upon him with the
+first idea of his son's danger to harden into bitterness and wrath
+against the young man, the moment he learned that all his
+apprehensions had been groundless. Even the pale, pitiful face of his
+wife had no softening effect upon him.
+
+"He is alive--but you say nothing more. Tell me is our son maimed--is
+he hurt?"
+
+"Hurt! He deserves to have his neck broken. I tell you the lad is
+getting beyond our management--wandering about after the gentry up
+yonder as if he belonged with them; going after the hunt and almost
+getting his neck broke on the new horse that fell short of his leap at
+a wall with a ditch on t'other side, that the best hunter in Sir
+Noel's stables couldn't'a' cleared."
+
+"Oh, father! you heard that; but was he much hurt? Why didn't they
+bring him home at once?" cried the mother, with a fever of dread in
+her eyes.
+
+"Hurt! not half so much as he deserves to be," answered the man,
+roughly. "Why, that horse may be laid up for a month; besides, at his
+best, there isn't a day's farm-work under his shining hide. The lad
+cheated us in the buying of him, a hunter past his prime--that is what
+has been put upon me, and serves me right for trusting him."
+
+"But you will not tell me, is our Richard hurt?" cried the woman, in a
+voice naturally mild, but now sharp with anxiety.
+
+"Hurt! not he. Only made a laughing-stock for the grooms and
+whippers-in who saw him cast head over heels into a ditch, and farther
+on in the day trudging home afoot."
+
+The woman fell back in her chair with a deep sigh of relief.
+
+"Then he was not hurt. Oh, father! why could ye not tell me this at
+first?"
+
+"Because ye are aye so foolish o'er the lad, cosseting a strapping
+grown-up loon as if he was a baby; that is what'll be his ruin in the
+end."
+
+"He is our only son," pleaded the mother.
+
+"Aye, and thankful I am that we have no more of the same kind."
+
+"Oh, father!"
+
+"There, there; don't anger me, woman. The things I heard down yonder
+have put me about more than a bit. The lad will be coming home, and a
+good sound rating he shall have."
+
+Here farmer Storms thrust his feet still farther out on the hearth,
+and sat watching the fire with a sullen frown growing darker and
+darker on his face.
+
+As the time wore on, Mrs. Storms saw that he became more and more
+irritated. His hands worked restlessly in his pockets, and, from time
+to time, he cast dark looks at the door.
+
+These signs of ill humor made the woman anxious.
+
+"It is going on to twelve," she said, looking at the brazen face of an
+old upright clock that stood in a corner of the kitchen. "I am tired."
+
+"What keeps ye from bed, then? As for me, I'll not quit this chair
+till Dick comes home."
+
+Mrs. Storms drew back into her chair and folded both hands on her lap.
+She was evidently afraid that her husband and son should meet while
+the former was in that state of mind.
+
+"I wonder where he is stopping," she said, unconsciously speaking
+aloud.
+
+"At the public. Where else can he harbor at this time of night? When
+Dick is missing one is safe to look for him there."
+
+"It may be that he has stopped in at Jessup's. I am sure that pretty
+Ruth could draw him from the public any day."
+
+"But it'll not be long, as things are going, before Jessup 'll forbid
+him the house. The girl has high thoughts of herself, with all her
+soft ways, and will have a good bit of money when her god-mother dies
+and the old gardener has done with his. If Dick goes on at this pace
+some one else will be sure to step in, and there isn't such another
+match for him in the whole county."
+
+"But he may be coming from the gardener's cottage now," suggested the
+mother. "Young men do not always give it out at home when they visit
+their sweethearts. You remember--"
+
+Here a smile, full of pleasant memories, softened the old man's face,
+and his hard hand stole into his wife's lap, searching shyly for hers.
+
+"Maybe I do forget them times more than I ought, wife; but no one can
+say I ever went by your house to spend a night at the ale-house--now,
+can they?"
+
+"But Dick may not do it either," pleaded the mother.
+
+"I tell you, wife, there is no use blinding ourselves: the young man
+spends half his time treating the lazy fellows of the neighborhood,
+for no one else has so much money."
+
+The old lady sighed heavily.
+
+"Worse than that! he joins in all the low sports of the place. Why, he
+is training rat-terriers in the stable and game-chickens in the
+barnyard. I caught him fighting them this very morning."
+
+"Oh, John!" exclaimed the woman, ready to accuse any one rather than
+her only child; "if you had only listened to me when we took him out
+of school, and given him a bit more learning."
+
+"He's got more learning by half than I ever had," answered the old
+man, moodily.
+
+"But you had your way to make and no time for much study; but we are
+well-to-do in the world, and our son need not work the farm like us."
+
+"I don't know but you are right, old woman. Dick never will make a
+good farm-hand. He wants to be master or nothing."
+
+"Hark--he is coming!" answered the wife, brightening up and laying her
+hand on the old man's arm.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+THE SON'S RETURN.
+
+
+When Richard Storms entered his father's house that night it was with
+the air of a man who had some just cause of offence against the old
+people who had been so long waiting for him. His sharp and rather
+handsome features were clouded with temper as he pushed open the
+kitchen door and held it while two ugly dogs crowded in, and his first
+words were insolently aggressive.
+
+"What! up yet, sulking over the fire and waiting for a row, are you?
+Well, have it out; one of the men told me that brute of a horse had
+got home with his leg twisted. I wish it had been his neck. Now, what
+have you got to say about it?"
+
+The elder Storms started up angrily, but his wife laid a hand on his
+shoulder and besought silence with her beseeching eyes. Then she was
+about to approach the young man, but one of the dogs snapped fiercely
+at her, and when the son kicked him, retreated, grinding a piece of
+her dress in his teeth.
+
+"You had better take care, mother! The landlord of the 'Two Ravens'
+has had him in training. He's been in a grand fight over yonder, and
+killed more rats than you'd want to count. That makes him savage, you
+know."
+
+Mrs. Storms shrunk away from the danger, and in great terror crouched
+down by the oaken chair from which her husband had risen. The old man
+started forward, but before he could shake off the hold of his wife,
+who seized his garments in a spasm of distress, Richard had kicked
+both dogs through the door.
+
+"Take that for your impudence," he said, fiercely. "To the kennel with
+you! it's the only place for such curs. Mother, mother, I say, get up;
+the whelps are gone. I didn't expect to find you out of bed, or they
+shouldn't have come in."
+
+Mrs. Storms stood up, still shaking with fear, while Richard dropped
+into his father's chair and stretched his limbs out upon the hearth.
+The old man took another seat, frowning darkly.
+
+"We have been talking about you--father and I," said the old woman,
+with a quiver of the passing fright in her voice.
+
+"No good, I'll be sworn, if the old man had a hand in it," answered
+the son.
+
+"You are wrong," said the mother, pressing her hand on the young man's
+shoulder. "No father ever thought more of a son, if you would only do
+something to please him now and then. He was speaking just now of
+letting you have more charge of the place."
+
+"Well, that will come when I am my own master."
+
+"That is, when I am dead!" broke in the old man, with bitter emphasis.
+"I almost wish for death now. What your mother and I have to live for,
+God only knows."
+
+"Hush, John, hush! Don't talk so. Richard will forget his idle ways,
+and be a blessing to us yet. Remember how we have spoiled him."
+
+"There, there, mother, let him have it out. There's no use reasoning
+with him when his back is up," said the young man, stretching himself
+more comfortably and turning a belligerent look on the father.
+
+Mrs. Storms bent over her son, greatly troubled.
+
+"Don't anger your father, Dick. He was planning kindly for you."
+
+"Planning what?--to keep me tied down here all my life?"
+
+"If I have tried to do that," said the old man, "it came from more
+love than I felt like talking about. Your mother and I haven't many
+pleasures now, and when you are away so much we feel lonesome."
+
+Dick turned in his chair and looked keenly at the old man, amazed by
+his unusual gentleness. The lines that seemed hard as steel in his
+young face relaxed a little.
+
+"Why couldn't you have talked like that oftener, and made it a little
+more pleasant at home? One must have something of life. You know that
+as well as I do, father."
+
+"Yes; your mother and I have been making allowances for that. Maybe
+things might have been managed for the better all along; but we must
+make the best of it now. As your mother says, a well-to-do man's only
+son should make something better of himself than a farm drudge; so we
+won't quarrel about it. Only be careful that the lass your mother and
+I have set our hearts on gets no evil news of you, or we shall have
+trouble there."
+
+Richard laughed at this and answered with an air of bravado, "No fear,
+no fear. The girl is too fond of me."
+
+"But her father is a skittish man to deal with, once his back is up,
+and you will find it hard managing the lass: let him see you with them
+terriers at your heels, and he'll soon be off the bargain."
+
+"If you are troubled about that, kick the dogs into the street and
+sell the game-chickens, if they crowd mother's bantams out. How can a
+dutiful son do more than that?"
+
+"Ah, now you talk like a sensible lad! Make good time, and when you
+bring the lass home, mother and I will have a bit of a cottage on the
+land, and mayhap you will be master here."
+
+"Is he in earnest, mother?"
+
+"I think he is."
+
+"And you, father?"
+
+"For once I mean that your mother shall take her own way: mine has led
+to this."
+
+The old man looked at the clock, and then on the wet marks of the
+dogs' feet on the kitchen floor, with grave significance.
+
+Young Storms laughed a low, unpleasant laugh, which had nothing of
+genuine hilarity in it.
+
+"You are right, father. We should only have gone from bad to worse. I
+don't take to hard work, but the other thing suits me exactly. You'll
+see that I shall come up to time in that."
+
+Just then the old clock struck one with a hoarse, angry clang, as if
+wrathful that the morning should be encroached upon in that house.
+
+Mrs. Storms took up one of the candles and gave it to her son.
+
+"Good-night, my son," she said, looking from the clock to her husband
+with pathetic tenderness in her voice. "Dick, you can kiss me
+good-night as you used to when I went to tuck up your bed in the
+winter. It'll seem like old times, won't it, husband? Shake hands with
+your father, too. It isn't many men as would give up as he has."
+
+The young man kissed his mother, with some show of feeling, and shook
+hands with his father in a hesitating way; but altogether his manner
+was so conciliatory that it touched those honest hearts with unusual
+tenderness.
+
+"You see what kindness can do with him," said Mrs. Storms, as she
+stood on the hearth with the other candlestick in her hand, while her
+husband raked up the fire. "He has gone up to bed with a smile on his
+face."
+
+"People are apt to smile when they get their own way," muttered the
+old man, who was half ashamed of his concession. "But I have no idea
+of taking anything back. You needn't be afraid of that. The young man
+shall have his chance."
+
+A sob was the only answer he got. Looking over his shoulder, as he put
+the shovel in its corner, he saw that tears were streaming down the
+old woman's face.
+
+"Why, what are you crying about, mother?"
+
+"I am so thankful."
+
+The good woman might have intended to say more, but she broke off
+suddenly, and the words died on her lips. The candle she held was
+darkened, and she saw that the wick was broadening at the top like a
+tiny mushroom, forming that weird thing called a "corpse-light" in
+the midst of the blaze.
+
+"What is the matter? What are you afraid of?" said the farmer,
+wondering at the paleness in his wife's face.
+
+"Look," she said, pointing to the heavy wick. "It seems to have come
+all of a sudden."
+
+"Only that?" said the old man, scornfully, snuffing out the
+corpse-light with his thumb and finger.
+
+A shudder passed over the woman as those horny fingers closed on the
+corpse-light and flung it smoking into the ashes.
+
+The old man had no sympathy with superstitions, and spoke to his wife
+more sharply than was kind, after the double fright that had shaken
+her nerves. Perhaps this thought came over him, for he patted her arm
+with his rough hand, awkwardly enough, not being given to much display
+of affection, and told her that she had for once got her own way, and
+mustn't be frightened out of what sleep was left for them between that
+and daylight by a smudge of soot in the candle.
+
+"You can't expect candles to burn after midnight without crumpling up
+their wicks," he said, philosophically: "so come to bed. The lad is
+sound asleep by this time, I dare say."
+
+These kind arguments did not have the desired effect, for the mother's
+eyes were full of tears, and her hand quivered under the weight of the
+candlestick, spite of all her efforts to conceal it from the
+observation of her husband.
+
+In less than ten minutes the farmer was asleep, but his wife, being of
+a finer and more sensitive nature, could not rest. Like most
+countrywomen of her class, she mingled some degree of superstition
+even with her most religious thoughts. Notwithstanding her terror
+occasioned by the snarling dog, she might have slept well, for the
+scene that had threatened to end in rageful assault had subsided in
+unexpected concession; but the funereal blackness in that candle
+coming so close upon her fright completely unnerved her. Certain it is
+no sleep came to those weary eyes. Close them as she would, that
+unseemly light glared upon them, and to her weird imagination seemed
+to point out some danger for her son.
+
+At last the poor woman was seized with a desperate yearning of
+motherhood, which had often led her to her son's room when the
+helplessness of infancy or the perils of sickness appealed to her--a
+yearning that drew her softly from her bed. Folding a shawl over her
+night dress, she mounted the stairs and entered the chamber where the
+young man lay in slumber so profound that he was quite unconscious of
+her presence; for neither conscience nor tenderness ever took growth
+enough in his nature to disturb an animal want of any kind. But the
+light of a waning moon lay upon his face, so the woman fell upon her
+knees, and gazing on those features, which might not have seemed in
+any degree perfect to another, soothed herself into prayer, and, out
+of the tranquillity that brings, into the sleep her nature craved so
+much.
+
+The morning light found her kneeling thus, with her cheek resting on
+his hand, which, in her tender unconsciousness, she had stolen and
+hidden away there.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+CONFESSING HIS LOVE.
+
+
+"Norston's Rest" was now in a state of comparative quiet. The throng
+of visitors that had made the place so brilliant had departed, and,
+for the first time in months, Sir Noel could enjoy the company of his
+son with a feeling of restfulness; for now the discipline of school
+and college lay behind the young man, and he was ready to begin life
+in earnest. After travelling a while on the continent he had entered
+upon the dignity of heir-ship with all the pomp and splendor of a
+great ovation, into which he had brought so much of kindly memory and
+generous purpose that his popularity almost rivalled the love and
+homage with which his father was regarded.
+
+Sir Noel was a proud man--so proud that the keenest critic must have
+failed to discover one trace of the arrogant self-assumption that so
+many persons are ready to display as a proof of superiority. With Sir
+Noel this feeling was a delicate permeation of his whole being,
+natural to it as the blue blood that flowed in his veins, and as
+little thought of. Profound self-respect rendered encroachment on the
+reserve of another simply impossible. During the stay of his son at
+"The Rest" one fond hope had possessed the baronet, and that grew out
+of his intense love of two human beings that were dearest to him on
+earth--the young heir and Lady Rose Hubert.
+
+It could not be asserted that ambition led to this wish; though the
+lady's rank was of the highest, and she was the inheritor of estates
+that made her a match even for the heir of "Norston's Rest." The
+baronet in the isolation of his long widowerhood had found in this
+fair girl all that he could have desired in a daughter of his own. Her
+delicacy of bloom and beauty appealed to his aesthetic taste. Her
+gayety and the spirituelle sadness into which it sometimes merged gave
+his home life a delightful variety. He could not think of her leaving
+"The Rest" without a pang such as noble-hearted fathers feel when they
+give away their daughters at the altar. To Sir Noel, Lady Rose was the
+brightest and most perfect being on earth, and the great desire of his
+heart was that she should become his daughter in fact, as she already
+was in his affections.
+
+Filled with this hope he had watched with some anxiety for the
+influence this young lady's loveliness might produce upon his son,
+without in any way intruding his wishes into the investigation; for,
+with regard to the perfect freedom which every heart should have to
+choose a companionship of love for itself, this old patrician was
+peculiarly sensitive. Having in his own early years suffered, as few
+men ever had, by the uprooting of one great hope, he was peculiarly
+anxious that no such abiding calamity should fall on the only son and
+heir of his house, but he was not the less interested in the choice
+that son might make when the hour of decision came. With all his
+liberality of sentiment it had never entered the thoughts of the
+baronet that a man of his race could choose ignobly, or look beneath
+the rank in which he was born. To him perfect liberty of choice was
+limited, by education and family traditions, to a selection among the
+highest and the best in his own proud sphere of life. Thus it became
+possible that his sentiments, uttered under this unexplained
+limitation, might be honestly misunderstood.
+
+Some months had passed since the young heir had taken up his home at
+"The Rest"--pleasant months to the baronet, who had looked forward to
+this period with the longing affection which centred everything of
+love and pride on this one human being that man can feel for man. At
+first it had been enough of happiness that his son was there, honored,
+content--with an unclouded and brilliant future before him--but human
+wishes are limitless, and the strong desire that the young man should
+anchor his heart where his own wishes lay grew into a pleasant belief.
+How could it be otherwise, when two beings so richly endowed were
+brought into the close companionship of a common home?
+
+One day, when the father and son chanced to be alone in the grand old
+library, where Sir Noel spent so much of his time, the conversation
+seemed naturally to turn upon some future arrangements regarding the
+estate.
+
+"It has been a pleasant burden to me so far," said the old gentleman,
+"because every day made the lands a richer inheritance for you and
+your children; but now I am only waiting for one event to place the
+heaviest responsibility on your young shoulders."
+
+"You mean," said the young man, flushing a little, "that you would
+impose two burdens upon me at once--a vast estate and some lady to
+preside over the old house."
+
+The baronet smiled, and answered with a faint motion of the head.
+
+Then the young man answered, laughingly:
+
+"There is plenty of time for that. I have everything to learn before
+so great a trust should be given me. As for the house, no one could
+preside there better than the Lady Rose."
+
+The baronet's face brightened.
+
+"No," he said, "we could hardly expect that. In all England it would
+be difficult to find a creature so lovely and so well fitted to the
+position."
+
+Sir Noel faltered as he concluded this sentence. He had not intended
+to connect the idea of this lady so broadly with his wishes. To his
+refined nature it seemed as if her dignity had been sacrificed.
+
+"She is, indeed, a marvel of beauty and goodness," answered the young
+man, apparently unmindful of the words that had disturbed his father.
+"I for one am in no haste to disturb her reign at 'Norston's Rest'."
+
+Sir Noel was about to say: "But it might be made perpetual," but the
+sensitive delicacy natural to the man checked the thought before it
+formed itself into speech.
+
+"Still it is in youth that the best foundations for domestic happiness
+are laid. I look upon it as a great misfortune when circumstances
+forbid a man to follow the first and freshest impulses of his heart--"
+
+Here the baronet broke off, and a deep unconscious sigh completed the
+sentence.
+
+Young Hurst looked at his father with awakened interest. The
+expression of sadness that came over those finely-cut features made
+him thoughtful. He remembered that Sir Noel had entered life a younger
+son, and that he had not left the army to take possession of his title
+and estates until after mid-age. He could only guess at the romance of
+success or disappointment that might have gone before; but even that
+awoke new sympathy in the young man's heart for his father.
+
+"I can hardly think that there is any time of life for which a man has
+power to lay down for himself certain rules of action," he said. "To
+say that any man will or will not marry at any given period is to
+suppose him capable of great control over his own best feelings."
+
+"You are right," answered Sir Noel, with more feeling than he usually
+exhibited. "The time for a man to marry is when he is certainly in
+love."
+
+"And the person?" questioned the young man, with a strange expression
+of earnestness in his manner.
+
+"Ah! The person that he does love."
+
+Sir Noel, thinking of his ward, was not surprised to see a flood of
+crimson rush over the young man's face, nor offended when he arose
+abruptly and left the library.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+CONFESSIONS OF LOVE.
+
+
+The baronet might, however, have been surprised had he seen Walton
+Hurst pass the Lady Rose on the terrace, only lifting his hat in
+recognition of her presence as he hurried into the park.
+
+"He guesses at my madness, or, at the worst, he will forgive it," ran
+through his thoughts as he took a near route toward the wilderness,
+"and she--ah, I have been cruel in this strife to conquer myself. My
+love, my beautiful wild-bird! It will be sweet to see her eyes
+brighten and her mouth tremble under a struggle to keep back her
+smiles."
+
+Thoughts like these occupied the young man until he stood before the
+gardener's cottage, and looked eagerly into the porch, hoping to see
+something besides the birds fluttering under the vines. He was
+disappointed: no one was there; but glancing through the oriel window
+he saw a gleam of warm color and the dejected droop of a head, that
+might have grown weary with looking out of the window; for it fell
+lower and lower, as if two unsteady hands were supporting the face.
+Hurst trod lightly over the turf, holding his breath, lifted the latch
+and stole into the little parlor in which the girl, we have once seen
+in the porch, was sitting disconsolately, as she had done hours each
+day through a lonely week.
+
+"Ruth!"
+
+The girl sprang to her feet, uttering a little cry of delight. Then an
+impulse of pride seized upon the heart that was beating so wildly, and
+she drew back, repudiating her own gladness.
+
+"I hoped to find you here and alone," he said, holding out both hands
+with a warmth that astonished her; for she shrunk back and looked at
+him wonderingly.
+
+"I have been away so long, and all the time longing to come; nay, nay,
+I will not have that proud lift of the head; for, indeed, I deserve a
+brighter welcome."
+
+The girl had done her best to be reserved and cold, but how could she
+succeed with those pleading eyes upon her--those two hands searching
+for hers?
+
+"It is so long, so long," she said, with sweet upbraiding in her eyes;
+"father has wondered why you did not come. It is very cruel neglecting
+him so."
+
+Hurst smiled at her pretty attempt at subterfuge; for he really had
+not spent much of his time in visiting Jessup, though the gardener had
+been a devoted friend during his boyhood, and truly believed that it
+was old remembrances that brought the young man so often to his
+cottage.
+
+"I fancy your father will not have missed me very much," he said.
+
+"But he does; indeed, indeed he does."
+
+"And you cared nothing?"
+
+Ruth dropped her eyelids, and he saw that tears were swelling under
+them. Selfishly watching her emotion until the long black lashes were
+wet, he lifted her hands suddenly to his lips and kissed them, with
+passionate warmth.
+
+She struggled, and wrenched her hands away from him.
+
+"You must not--you must not: father would be _so_ angry."
+
+"Not if he knew how much I love you."
+
+She stood before him transfigured; her black eyes opened wide and
+bright, her frame trembled, her hands were clasped.
+
+"You love me--you?"
+
+"Truly, Ruth, and dearly as ever man loved woman," was the earnest,
+almost solemn, answer.
+
+The girl turned pale, even her lips grew white.
+
+"I dare not let you," she said, in a voice that was almost a whisper.
+"I dare not."
+
+"But how can you help it?" said Hurst, smiling at her terror.
+
+"How can I help it?"
+
+The girl lifted her hands as if to ward him away. This announcement of
+his love frightened her. A sweet unconscious dream that had neither
+end nor beginning in her young experience had been rudely broken up by
+it.
+
+"You tremble--you turn pale. Is it because you cannot love me, Ruth?"
+
+"Love you--love you?" repeated the girl, in wild bewilderment. "Oh,
+God! forgive me--forgive me! I do, I do!"
+
+Her face was one flame of scarlet now, and she covered it with her
+hands--shame, terror, and a great ecstasy of joy seized upon her.
+
+"Let me go, let me go, I cannot bear it," she pleaded, at length. "I
+dare not meet my father after this."
+
+"But I dare take your hand in mine and say to him, as one honorable
+man should say to another: 'I love this girl, and some day she shall
+become my wife.'"
+
+"Your wife!"
+
+"I did not know till now the sweetness that lies in a single word.
+Yes, Ruth, when a Hurst speaks of love he speaks also of marriage."
+
+"No, no, that can never be--Sir Noel, Lady Rose, my father--you forget
+them all!"
+
+"No, I forget nothing. Sir Noel is generous, and he loves me. You have
+always been a favorite with Lady Rose. As for your father--"
+
+"He would die rather than drag down the old family like that. My
+father, in his way, is proud as Sir Noel. Besides--besides--"
+
+"Well, what besides?"
+
+"He has promised. He and John Storms arranged it long ago."
+
+"Arranged what, Ruth?"
+
+"That--that I should some day be mistress of the farm."
+
+"Mistress of the farm--and you?"
+
+"Oh, Mr. Hurst! it breaks my heart to think of it, but father's
+promise was given when I did not care so much, and I let it go on
+without rebelling."
+
+Ruth held out her hands, imploringly, as she said this, but Hurst
+turned away from her, and began to pace up and down the little parlor,
+while she shrunk into the recess of the window, and watched him
+timidly through her tears. At last he came up to her, blaming his own
+anger.
+
+"This must never be, Ruth!"
+
+"You do not know what a promise is to my father," said the girl, with
+piteous helplessness.
+
+"Yes, I do know; but this is one he shall not keep."
+
+Once more the young man took the hands she dared not offer him again,
+and pressed them to his lips. Then he went away full of anger and
+perplexity.
+
+Ruth watched him through the window till his tall figure was lost in
+the windings of the path; then she ran up to her own little room, and
+throwing herself on the bed, wept until tears melted away her trouble,
+and became an exquisite pleasure. The ivy about the window shed a
+lovely twilight around her, and the shadows of its trembling leaves
+tinted the snowy whiteness of the pillow on which her cheek rested,
+with fairy-like embroidery. The place was like heaven to her. Here
+this young girl lay, thrilled heart and soul by the first passion of
+her womanhood. This feeling that burned on her cheek, and swelled in
+her bosom, was a delicious insanity. There was no hope in it--no
+chance for reason, but Hurst loved her, and that one thought filled
+the moment with joy.
+
+With her hands clasped over her bosom, and her eyes closed in the
+languor of subsiding emotion, she lay as in a dream, save that her
+lips moved, as red rose-leaves stir when the rain falls on them, but
+all that they uttered was, "He loves me--he loves me."
+
+If a thought of her father or of Richard Storms came to mar her
+happiness, she thrust it away, still murmuring, "He loves me. He loves
+me."
+
+After a time she began to reason, to wonder that this one man, to whom
+the giving of her childish admiration had seemed an unpardonable
+liberty, could have thought of her at all, except as he might give a
+moment's attention to the birds and butterflies that helped to make
+the old place pleasant. How could he--so handsome, so much above all
+other gentlemen of his own class--think of her while Lady Rose was
+near in all the splendor of her beauty and the grace of a high
+position!
+
+"Was it that she was also beautiful?"
+
+When this question arose in her mind, Ruth turned upon her pillow,
+and, half ashamed of the movement, looked into a small mirror that
+hung on the opposite wall. What she saw there brought a smile to her
+mouth and the flash of diamonds to the blackness of her eyes.
+
+"Not like the Lady Rose," she thought, "not fair and white like her;
+but he loves me! He loves me!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+JUDITH.
+
+
+Ruth Jessup was indeed more deeply pledged to Richard Storms than she
+was herself aware of. The old farmer and Jessup had been fast friends
+for years when these young people were born, and almost from the first
+it had become an understanding between them that their families should
+be united in these children. The two fathers had saved money in their
+hard-working and frugal lives, which was to lift the young people
+into a better social class than the parents had any wish to occupy,
+and each had managed to give to his child a degree of education
+befitting the advancement looked forward to in their future.
+
+Young Richard had accepted this arrangement with alacrity when he was
+old enough to comprehend its advantages, for, of all the maidens in
+that neighborhood, Ruth Jessup was the most beautiful; and what was
+equally important to him, even in his boyhood, the most richly
+endowed. As for the girl herself, the importance of this arrangement
+had never been a subject of serious consideration.
+
+Bright, gay, and happy in her nest-like home, she accepted this lad as
+a special playmate in her childhood, and had no repugnance to his
+society after that, so long as more serious things lay in the
+distance. Brought up with those habits of strict obedience so
+commendable in the children of English parents, she accepted without
+question the future that had seemed most desirable to her father, who
+loved her, as she well knew, better than anything on earth.
+
+Indeed, there had been a time in her immature youth when the presence
+of young Storms filled all the girlish requirements of her life. Nay,
+as will sometimes happen, the very dash and insolence of his character
+had the charm of power for her; but since then the evil of his nature
+had developed into action, while her judgment, refined and
+strengthened, began to revolt from the traits that had seemed so bold
+and manly in the boy.
+
+Jessup had himself been somewhat displeased by the idle habits of the
+young man, and had expostulated with the father on the subject so
+directly that Richard was put on a sort of probation after his
+escapade at the hunt, and found his presence at the gardener's
+cottage less welcome than it had been, much to his own disgust.
+
+"I have given up the dogs and nursed that lame brute as if I had been
+his grandmother--what more can any reasonable man want?" he said one
+day when Jessup had looked coldly on him.
+
+"If you would win favor with daughter Ruth, my lad, go less with that
+gang at 'The Two Ravens,' and turn a hand to help the old father. When
+that is done there will always be a welcome for you; but my lass has
+no mother to guide her, and I must take extra care that she does not
+match herself illy. Wait a while, and let us see the upshot of
+things."
+
+"Is it that you take back your word?" questioned Richard, anxiously.
+
+"Take back my word! Am I a man to ask that question of? No, no; I was
+glad about the terriers, and shall not be sorry to see you on the back
+of the horse when he is well, for he is a fair hunter and worth money;
+but daughter Ruth has heard of these things, and it'll be well to keep
+away for a bit till they have time to get out of her mind."
+
+"I'll be sure to remember what you say, and do nothing to anger any
+one," said Storms, with more concession than Jessup expected, and the
+young man rode away burning with resentment.
+
+"So I am to be put in a corner with a finger in my mouth till this
+pretty sweetheart of mine thinks fit to call me out of punishment. As
+if there were no other inn but 'The Two Ravens,' and no other lass
+worth making love to but her! Now, that the hunter is on his feet
+again, I'll take care that she'll know little of what I am doing."
+
+This conversation happened a few days after the hunt. Since that time
+Storms had never been heard of at the "Two Ravens," and his name had
+begun to be mentioned with respect in the village, much to Jessup's
+satisfaction.
+
+Occasionally, however, the young man was seen mounted on the hunter,
+and dressed like a gentleman, riding off into the country on business
+for his father. The people who met him believed this, and they gave
+him credit for the change that a few weeks had wrought.
+
+Was it instinct in the animal, or premeditation in his rider that
+turned the hunter upon the old track the first time he was taken from
+the stable? Certain it is that Richard Storms rode him leisurely up
+the long hill and by the lane which led to the dilapidated house he
+had visited on the day of his misfortune, but without calling at the
+house.
+
+After he had pursued this course a week or more, riding slowly in full
+view of the porch, until he was certain that one of its inmates had
+seen him, he turned from the road one day, left his horse under a
+chestnut tree that grew in the lane, and sauntered down the weedy path
+toward the house.
+
+Looking eagerly forward, he saw Judith Hart in the porch. She was
+standing on a small wooden bench, with both arms uplifted and bare to
+the shoulders. Evidently the unpruned vines had broken loose, and she
+was tying them up again.
+
+As she heard the sound of hoofs the girl stooped down and looked
+through the vines with eager curiosity.
+
+She jumped down from the bench as she recognized the young man, a
+vivid flush of color coming into her face and a sparkle of gladness in
+her eyes. If he had forgotten that day when the first cup of milk was
+given, she had not.
+
+At first a smile parted her red lips; then a sullen cloud came over
+her, and she turned her back, as if about to enter the house, at which
+he laughed inly, and walked a little faster until a new mood came over
+her, and she stood shyly before him on the porch, playing with the
+vine leaves, a little roughly; yet, under all this affectation, she
+was deeply agitated.
+
+"I have come," he said, mounting the broken steps of the porch, "for
+another glass of water. You look cross, and would not give me a cup of
+milk if I asked for it ever so humbly."
+
+"There is water in the well, if you choose to draw it," answered the
+girl, turning her face defiantly upon him. "I had forgotten all about
+the other."
+
+"And about me too, I dare say?"
+
+"You! Ah, now, that I look again, you have been here before. One
+cannot remember forever."
+
+Storms might have been deceived but for the swift blushes that swept
+that face, and the smile that would not be suppressed.
+
+"I have been so busy," he said; "and this is an out-of-the-way place."
+
+Out-of-the-way place! Why, Judith had seen him ride by a dozen times
+without casting his eyes toward the poor house she lived in, and each
+time with a swift pang at the heart; but she would have died rather
+than let him know it, having a fair amount of pride in her nature,
+crude as it was.
+
+"Will you come in?" she said, after an awkward pause.
+
+The young man lifted his hat and accepted this half-rude invitation.
+
+He did draw water from the well that day, while Judith stood by with
+a glass in her hand, exulting while she watched him toil at the
+windlass, as she had done when he asked for a drink. Some vague idea
+of a woman's dignity had found exaggerated development since that time
+in Judith's nature, and though she dipped the water from the bucket,
+and held it sparkling toward him, it was with the air of an Indian
+princess, scorning toil, but offering hospitality. She was piqued with
+the man, and would not seem too glad that he had come back again.
+
+"There is no water in all the valley like that in your well," he said,
+draining the glass and giving it back with a smile; "no view so
+beautiful as that which strikes the river yonder and looks up the
+gorge. There must be pleasant walks in that direction."
+
+"There the river is awful deep, and a precipice shelves over it ever
+so high. I love to sit there sometimes, though it makes most people
+dizzy."
+
+"Some day you will show me the place?"
+
+"Oh, it is found easy enough. A foot-path is worn through the orchard.
+Everybody knows the way."
+
+"Still, I shall come to-morrow, and you will show it to me?"
+
+The color rose in Judith's face.
+
+"No," she said; "I shall have work to do."
+
+There was pride, as well as a dash of coquetry, in this. Judith
+resented the time that had been lost, and the forgetfulness that had
+wounded her.
+
+Perhaps it was this seeming indifference that inspired new admiration
+in the young man. Perhaps it was the unusual bloom of beauty dawning
+upon her that reminded him vividly of Ruth Jessup; for the same
+richness of complexion was there--the dark eyes and heavy tresses with
+that remarkable purple tinge that one sees but once or twice in a
+lifetime. Certain it is, he came again, and from that time the change
+in Judith, body and soul, grew positive, like the swift development of
+a tropical plant.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+WAITING FOR HIM.
+
+
+Judith stood within her father's porch once more--this time leaning
+forward eagerly, shading her eyes with one hand, and looking from
+under it in an attitude of intense expectation.
+
+As she waited there, with fire on her cheeks and longing in her eyes,
+the change that a few months had made was marvellous. Those eyes, at
+first boldly bright, were now like velvet or fire, as tenderness or
+passion filled them. She had grown taller, more graceful, perhaps a
+little less vigorous in her movements; but in spirit and person the
+girl was vividly endowed with all that an artist would have desired
+for a picture of her own scriptural namesake Judith.
+
+This question was on her lips and in her eyes: "Will he come alone?
+Oh, will he come alone?"
+
+Was it her father she was watching for, and did she wish him to come
+alone? If she expected that, why were those scarlet poppies burning in
+the blackness of her hair? Why had she put on that chintz dress with
+tufts of wild flowers glowing on a maroon ground?--all cheap in
+themselves, but giving richness of color to match that of her person.
+Her father had gone to bed supperless one night because the money for
+that knot of red ribbon on her bosom had been paid to a pedlar who
+cajoled her into the purchase.
+
+Evidently some one besides the toiling old man was expected. Judith
+never in her life had waited so anxiously for him. There was a table
+set out in the room she had left, on which a white cloth was spread; a
+glass dish of blackberries stood on this table, and by it a
+pitcher-full of milk, mantled temptingly with cream.
+
+Does any one suppose that Judith had arranged all this for the father
+whom she had sent supperless to bed only a few days before, because of
+her longing for the ribbon that flamed on her bosom?
+
+No, no; Richard Storms had made good use of his opportunities. Riding
+his blood-horse, or walking leisurely, he had mounted that hill almost
+every day since his second visit to the old house.
+
+I have said that a great change had taken place in Judith's person.
+Indeed, there was something in her face that startled you. Until a few
+months since her deepest feelings had been aroused by some sensational
+romance; but now all the poetry, all the imagination and rude force of
+her nature were concentrated in a first grand passion. Females like
+Judith, left to stray into life untaught and unchecked--through the
+fervor of youth--inspired by ideas that spring out of their own
+boundless ignorance, sometimes startle one with a sudden development
+of character.
+
+As a tropical sun pours its warmth into the bosom of an orange tree,
+ripening its fruit before the blossoms fall, first love had awakened
+the strong, even reckless nature of this girl, and inspired all the
+latent elements of a character formed like the garden in which we
+first saw her, where fruit, weeds, and flowers struggled for life
+together. Without method or culture, these elements concentrated to
+mar or brighten her future life.
+
+For a while after that second visit of Storms, Judith had held her
+independence bravely. When the young man came, she was full of quaint
+devices for his entertainment, bantering him all the time with
+good-natured audacity, which he liked. She took long rambles with him
+down the hillside, rather proud that the neighbors should witness her
+conquest, but without a fear, or even thought, of the scandal it might
+occasion.
+
+Sometimes they sat hours together under the orchard-trees, where she
+would weave daisy-chains or impatiently tear up the grass around her
+as he became tender or tantalizing in his speech.
+
+For a time her voice--a deep, rich contralto--filled the whole house
+as it went ringing to and fro, like the joyous out-gush of a
+mocking-bird, for in that way she gave expression to the pride and
+glory that possessed her.
+
+The girl told her father nothing of this, but kept it hoarded in her
+heart with the secret of her novel-reading. But he saw that she grew
+brighter and more cheerful every day, that her curt manner toward
+himself had become almost caressing, and that the house had never been
+so well cared for before. So he thanked God for the change, and went
+to his work more cheerfully.
+
+No, it was not for the old father that worshipped her that Judith
+stood on the porch that day. The meagre affection she felt for him was
+as nothing to the one grand passion that had swallowed up everything
+but the intense self-love that it had warmed into unwholesome vigor.
+
+She was only watching for her father because of her hope that another
+and a dearer one was coming with him.
+
+"Dear me, it seems as if the sun would never set!" she exclaimed,
+stepping impatiently down from the wooden stool. "What shall I do till
+they come? I wonder, now, if there would be time to run out and pick a
+few more berries? The dish isn't more than half full, and father
+hinted that some were getting ripe on the bushes by the lower wall.
+I've a good mind to go and see. I hate to have them look skimpy in the
+dish. Anyway I'll just get my sun-bonnet and try. Father seemed to
+think that I might pick them for our tea. As if I'd a-gone out in the
+hot sun for the best father that ever lived! But let him think so if
+he wants to. One may as well please the poor old soul once in a
+while."
+
+Judith went into the kitchen, took a bowl from the table, and hurried
+down toward the orchard-fence, where she found some wild bushes
+clambering up the stonework, laden with fruit. A flock of birds
+fluttered out from the bushes at her approach, each with his bill
+stained blood-red and his feathers in commotion.
+
+Judith laughed at their musical protests, and fell to picking the ripe
+berries, staining her own lips with the largest and juiciest now and
+then, as if to tantalize the little creatures, who watched her
+longingly from the boughs of a neighboring apple tree.
+
+All at once a shadow fell upon the girl, who looked up and saw that
+the golden sunshine was dying out from the orchard.
+
+"Dear me, they may come any minute!" she said, shaking up the berries
+in her bowl. "A pretty fix I should be in then, with my mouth all
+stained up and my hair every which way; but it is just like me!"
+
+Away the girl went, spilling her berries as she ran. Leaving them in
+the kitchen, she hurried up to her own room and gave herself a rapid
+survey in the little seven-by-nine looking-glass that hung on the
+wall.
+
+"Well, if it wasn't me, I should almost think that face was going to
+be handsome one of these days," she thought, striving to get a better
+look at herself by a not ungraceful bend of the neck. The mirror took
+in her head and part of the bust on which the scarlet ribbon flamed.
+The face was radiant. The eyes full of happy light, smiled upon her
+until dimples began to quiver about the mouth, and she laughed
+outright.
+
+The beautiful gipsy in the glass laughed too, at which Judith darted
+away and ran down-stairs in swift haste, for she heard footsteps on
+the porch, and her heart leaped to meet them.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+THE NEXT NEIGHBOR.
+
+
+Panting for breath, radiant with hope, Judith flung the door open.
+
+A woman stood upon the porch, looking up at a wren that was shooting
+in and out among the vines, chirping and fluttering till all the
+blossoms seemed alive.
+
+Judith fell back with a hostile gesture, holding the door in her hand.
+"Is it you?" she asked, curtly enough.
+
+"Just me, and nobody else," answered the woman, quite indifferent to
+the frowns on that young face. "Hurried through my work early, and
+thought I'd just run over and see how you got along."
+
+"Oh, I am doing well enough."
+
+"But you never come round to see us now. Neighbors like us ought to be
+a little more sociable."
+
+"I've had a great deal to attend to," answered Judith, still holding
+on to the door.
+
+"Nothing particular just now, is there? Got nobody inside that you'd
+rather a next-door neighbor shouldn't see--have you?" questioned the
+woman, with a keen flash of displeasure in her eyes.
+
+"What do you mean, Mrs. Parsons?"
+
+"Oh, nothing; only I ought to know that chintz dresses of the best,
+and red ribbons fluttering around one like butterflies, ain't, as a
+general thing, put on for run-in callers such as I am. I begin to
+think, Judith, that what everybody is saying has more truth in it than
+I, as an old friend, would ever allow."
+
+Judith turned as if to close the door and shut the intruder out; for
+the girl was so angry and disappointed that she did not even attempt
+to govern her actions. The woman had more patience.
+
+"Don't do that, Judith; don't, now; for you will be shutting that door
+in the face of the best friend you've got--one that comes kindly to
+say her say to your face, but stands up for you through thick and thin
+behind your back!"
+
+"Stands up for me! What for?" questioned the girl, haughtily, but
+checking a swift movement to cover the knot of ribbon with her hand.
+"What is it to you or any one else what I wear?"
+
+"Oh, nothing--nothing; of course not; only, having no mother to look
+after you, some of the neighbors feel anxious, and the rest talk
+dreadfully. I have eyes as well as other people, but I never told a
+mortal how often I have seen you and--you know who--sitting in the
+orchard, hours on hours, when the old man was out to work. That isn't
+my way; but other people have eyes, and the best of 'em will talk."
+
+Judith's face was crimson now, and her black eyes shot fire; but she
+forced herself to laugh.
+
+"Well, let them talk; little I care about it!"
+
+"But you ought to care, Judith Hart, if it's only for your father's
+sake. Somebody'll be telling him, next."
+
+A look of affright broke through the fire in Judith's eyes, and her
+voice was somewhat subdued as she answered:
+
+"But what can they tell him or any one else? Come in and tell me what
+they say; not that I care, only for the fun of laughing at it. Come
+in, Mrs. Parsons!"
+
+Mrs. Parsons stepped within the hall and sat down in the only chair it
+contained, when she took off her sun-bonnet and commenced to fan
+herself with it, for the good woman was heated both by her walk across
+the fields and the curbed anger which Judith's rudeness had inspired.
+
+"Laugh!" she said, at last. "I reckon you'll laugh out of the other
+side of your mouth one of these days! Talk like this isn't a thing
+that you or your father can afford to put up with."
+
+"People had better let my father alone! He is as good a man as ever
+lived, every inch of him, if he does go out to days' work for a
+living!"
+
+"That he is!" rejoined Mrs. Parsons; "which is the reason why no one
+has told him what was going on."
+
+"But what _is_ going on?" questioned Judith, with an air that would
+have been disdainful but for the keen anxiety that broke through all
+her efforts.
+
+"That which I have seen with my own eyes I will speak of. The young
+man who stops each week at the public-house yonder comes up the hill
+too often; people have begun to watch for him, and the talk grows
+stronger every day. I don't join in; but most of the neighbors seem to
+think that you are on the highway to destruction, and are bound to
+break your father's heart."
+
+"Indeed!" sneered Judith, white with wrath.
+
+"They say the young fellow left a bad character behind him, and that
+his visits mean no good to any honest girl, especially a poor
+workingman's child, who lives from hand to mouth."
+
+"Does my father owe them anything?" demanded Judith, fiercely.
+
+"Not as I know of; but the long and the short of it is, Judith, people
+will talk so long as that person keeps coming here. A girl without a
+mother can't spend hours on hours with a strange young man without
+having awful things said about her; that's what I came to warn you
+of."
+
+"There was no need of coming. Of course, I expected all the girls to
+be jealous, and their mothers, too, because Mr. Storms passed their
+doors without calling," answered Judith.
+
+"That is just where it is. People say that the father is a fore-handed
+man, and keeps half a dozen hands to work on his place. This young
+fellow is an only son. Now, is it likely, Judith, that he means
+anything straight-forward in coming here so much?"
+
+Mrs. Parsons said this with a great deal of motherly feeling, which
+was entirely thrown away upon Judith, who felt the sting of her words
+through all the kindness of their utterance.
+
+"As if Mr. Storms was not old enough and clever enough to choose for
+himself," she said.
+
+"That's the worst of it, Judith. Every one is saying that, after
+making his choice, he's no business coming here to fasten scandal on
+you."
+
+"It isn't he that fastens scandal on me, but the vile tongues of the
+neighbors, that are always flickering venom on some one. So it may as
+well be me as another. I'm only astonished that they will allow that
+he has made a choice."
+
+"Made a choice! Why, everybody knows, that he's engaged to be
+married!"
+
+"Engaged to be married!"
+
+A rush of hot color swept Judith's face as these words broke from her
+lips, but to retreat slowly, leaving a cold pallor behind.
+
+"Just that. Engaged to be married to a girl who lives neighbor to his
+father's place--one who has plenty of money coming and wonderful good
+looks," said the woman.
+
+"I don't believe it. I know better! There isn't a word of truth in
+what any of them says," retorted Judith, with fierce vehemence, while
+a baleful fire broke into her eyes that fairly frightened her visitor.
+
+"Well, I had nothing to do with it. Every word may be a slander, for
+anything I know."
+
+"It is a slander, I'll stake my life on it--a mean, base slander, got
+up out of spite? But who said it? Where did the story come from? I
+want to know that!"
+
+"Oh, people are constantly going back and forth from 'Norston's Rest,'
+who put up at the public-house at the foot of the hill, where he
+leaves his horse. All agree in saying the same thing. Then the young
+man himself only smiles when he is asked about it."
+
+"Of course, he would smile. I don't see how he could keep from
+laughing outright at such talk."
+
+Notwithstanding her disdainful words, Judith was greatly disturbed.
+The color had faded even from her lips. Her young life knew its
+keenest pang when jealousy, with one swift leap, took possession of
+her heart and soul and tortured them. But the girl was fiery and brave
+even in her anguish. She would not yield to it in the presence of her
+visitor, who might watch and report.
+
+"They tell you that my father does not know when Mr. Storms comes
+here. That, you will find, is false as the rest. He is coming home
+with father this afternoon. I thought it was them when you came in.
+Look, I have just set out the table. Wait a while, and you will see
+them coming down the lane together."
+
+Judith flung open the parlor-door as she spoke, and Mrs. Parsons went
+in. Never had that room taken such an air of neatness within the good
+woman's memory. The table-cloth was spotless; the china unmatched, but
+brightly clean; the uncarpeted floor had been scoured and the cobwebs
+were all swept away. The open fireplace was crowded with leaves and
+coarse garden flowers.
+
+"Well, I'm glad that I can say that much, anyway," said the good
+woman, looking around with no little admiration. "What a nack you have
+got, Judith! Just to think that a few branches from the hedge can do
+all that! I'll go right home and tell my girls about it."
+
+"Not yet--not till you have seen father and Mr. Storms come in to tea,
+as they are sure to do before long. The neighbors are so anxious to
+know about it that I want them to have it from good authority."
+
+Judith had not recovered from her first exasperation, and spoke
+defiantly, not at all restrained by a latent fear that her father
+might come alone.
+
+Mrs. Parsons had made her way to a window, where the wren she had
+taken so much interest in was twittering joyously among the
+vine-leaves.
+
+The great anxiety that possessed Judith drew her to the window also,
+where she stood trembling with dread and burning with wrath. She had
+been informed before that damaging rumors were abroad with regard to
+Storms' stolen visits, and it was agreed upon between her and the
+young man that he should in some natural way seek out old Mr. Hart,
+and thus obtain a legitimate right to visit the house.
+
+The expectation of his coming that very afternoon had induced Judith
+to brighten up her dreary old home with so much care, and would make
+her triumph only the greater if Mrs. Parsons was present to witness
+his approach.
+
+"Yes," she said, "it is father and Mr. Storms I am expecting to tea.
+You can see with your own eyes what friends they are."
+
+Mrs. Parsons was not so deficient in curiosity that she did not look
+eagerly through the vine-leaves, even holding them apart with her own
+hands to obtain a good view. She saw two persons coming down the lane,
+as opposite in appearance as creatures of the same race could be.
+Young Storms walked vigorously, swinging his cane in one hand or
+dashing off the head of a thistle with it whenever those stately
+wild-flowers tempted him with their imperial purple.
+
+To the old man who came toiling after him this reckless destruction
+seemed a cruel enjoyment. His gentle nature shrunk from every blow, as
+if the poor flowers could feel and suffer under those cruel
+lacerations. He could not have been induced to break the smallest
+blossom from its roots in that ruthless fashion, but tore up unseemly
+weeds in the garden gently and with a sort of compassion, for the
+tenderness of his nature reached the smallest thing that God has made.
+
+A slight man loaded down with hard work, stooping in the shoulders,
+walking painfully beyond his usual speed, Hart appeared as he
+struggled to keep up with young Storms, who knew that he was weary and
+too old for the toil that had worn him out, but never once offered to
+check his own steps or wait for him to take breath.
+
+"Yes, it is father and Mr. Storms. You can tell the neighbors that;
+and tell them from me that he'll come again, just as long as he wants
+to, and we want to have him," said Judith, triumphantly.
+
+"I'll tell the neighbors what I have seen, and nothing more," answered
+the woman. "There's not one of them that wishes you any harm."
+
+"Oh, no, of course not!" was the mocking answer.
+
+The woman shook her head, half sorrowful, half in anger.
+
+"Well, Judith, I won't say another word, now I see that your father
+knows; but it is to be hoped he has found out something better about
+the young man than any of us has heard of yet."
+
+Mrs. Parsons tied her bonnet as she spoke, and casting a wistful look
+on the table, hesitated, as if waiting for an invitation to remain.
+
+But Judith was too much excited for any thought of such hospitality;
+so the woman went away more angry than she had ever been with that
+motherless girl before.
+
+The moment she was gone Judith took her bowl of blackberries, emptied
+them into the glass dish, heaping them unevenly on one side to conceal
+a crack in the glass, then ran into the hall, for she heard footsteps
+on the porch, and her father's voice inviting some one to walk in.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+JEALOUS PASSIONS.
+
+
+"Walk in, Mr. Storms. Judith will be somewhere about. Oh, here she
+is!"
+
+Yes, there she was, lighting up the bare hall with the rosy glow of
+her smiles, which, sullen as she strove to make them, beamed upon the
+visitor quite warmly enough to satisfy his insatiate vanity.
+
+"Daughter, this is Mr. Storms, a young gentleman from the neighborhood
+of 'Norston's Rest,' come up the valley on business. He was kind
+enough to walk along the hill with me after I got through work, and
+when I told him of the view, he wanted to see it from the house."
+
+Neither of the young people gave the slightest sign that they had met
+before. Judith's smile turned to an inward laugh as she made a dashing
+courtesy, and gave the young man her hand the moment her father's back
+was turned.
+
+Storms might have kissed the hand, while the old man was hanging up
+his hat, but was far too prudent for anything of the kind, though he
+saw a resentful cloud gathering on the girl's face.
+
+The old man gave a quiet signal to Judith that she should stop a
+moment for consultation, while their visitor went out of the
+back-door, as if tempted by a glimpse of the scenery in that
+direction.
+
+"I couldn't help asking him in, daughter, so you must make the best of
+it. Is there anything in the house--anything for tea, I mean? No
+butter, I suppose?"
+
+"Yes, there is; I churned this morning."
+
+"You churned this morning! Why, what has come over you, daughter?"
+
+"Dear me, what a fuss about a little churning! As if I'd never done as
+much before!"
+
+The old man was so well pleased that he did not hint that butter, made
+in his own house, seemed like a miracle to him.
+
+"But bread--when did we have a baking?"
+
+"No matter about that. There are plenty of cakes, raised with eggs,
+too."
+
+"That's capital," said the old man, throwing off a load of anxiety
+that had oppressed him all the way home. "We shall get along famously.
+The young man has got uncommon education, you see, Judith, and it
+isn't often that I get a chance to talk with any one given to reading;
+so I want you to make things extra nice. Now I'll go and see what can
+be found on the bushes."
+
+"I've picked all the berries, and got them in the dish, father."
+
+"Why, Judith!"
+
+"You asked me to, or as good as that, so there's nothing to wonder
+at."
+
+The old man drew a deep breath. A little kindness was enough to make
+him happy, but this was overpowering.
+
+"So you picked 'em for the old man just as if _he_ were company, dear
+child!--dressed up for him, too!"
+
+Judith blushed guiltily. Her poor father was so easily deceived, that
+she felt ashamed of so many unnecessary falsehoods.
+
+"I dressed up a little because I wanted to be like other girls."
+
+"I wish you could be more like other girls," said the father, sighing,
+this time heavily enough; "but it's of no use wishing, is it, child?"
+
+"I think that there is a great deal of use in it. If it were not for
+hoping and wishing and dreaming day-dreams, how could one live in this
+stupid place?"
+
+The old man looked at his child wistfully. It was so many years since
+he had known a day-dream, that the idea bewildered him.
+
+"It is so long since I was young," he said; "so very long. Perhaps I
+had them once, but I'm not sure--I'm not sure."
+
+"I'm sure that the cakes will burn up if I stand here any longer,"
+said Judith, on whom the sad pathos of her father's words made no
+impression. "I'll put them on the table at once. Call your friend in
+before they get heavy."
+
+When the old man came in with Storms, he found Judith standing by the
+table, which she was surveying with no little pride. Unusual attempts
+had been made to decorate the room. The fireplace was turned into a
+tiny bower fairly set afire by a jar crowded full of great
+golden-hearted marigolds, that glowed through the soft greenness like
+flame.
+
+All this surprised and delighted the old man. He turned with childlike
+admiration from the fireplace to the table, and from that to his
+daughter, who was now casting stolen and anxious glances into the old
+mirror opposite, over which was woven more delicate flowers, with the
+sprays of some feathery plant, heavy and rich with coral berries that
+scattered themselves in reflection on the glass.
+
+The room was cool with shadows, but swift arrows of gold came shooting
+from the sunset through the thick vines, and broke here and there upon
+the floor, giving a soft glow to the atmosphere which was not heat.
+
+The old man glanced at all this very proudly, and when one of these
+arrows was shivered in his daughter's hair he sat fondly admiring her;
+for to him she was wonderfully beautiful.
+
+Young Storms looked at her also, with a little distrust. There was
+something unnatural in her high color and in the dashing nervousness
+of her movements as she poured out the tea, that aroused his interest.
+Once or twice she fixed her eyes upon him in a wild, searching
+fashion, that made even his cold gray eyes droop beneath their lids.
+
+At last they all arose from the table and gathered around the window,
+looking out upon the sunset. It was a calm scene, rich with golden
+haze near the horizon; while the gap below was choked up with purple
+shadows through which the river flowed dimly. Of those three persons
+by the window, the old man was perhaps the only one who thoroughly
+felt all the poetic beauty of the scene; even to him the rural picture
+became more complete when the only cow he possessed came strolling up
+to the gate, thus throwing in a dash of life as she waited to be
+milked.
+
+"I'll go out and milk her," said the old man. "You've had a good deal
+to attend to, daughter, and it is no more than fair that I should help
+a little."
+
+Help a little! why it was not often that any one else went near the
+poor beast for weeks together; but the old man was pleased with all
+the girl had done, and covered her delinquency with this kindly craft
+as he went into the kitchen in search of a pail.
+
+The moment he was gone, Judith turned upon her visitor.
+
+"Let us go down into the orchard; I want to speak with you," she said.
+
+"Why not here?" questioned the young man, who instinctively refused or
+evaded everything he did not himself propose.
+
+"Because he may come back, and I want to be alone--quite alone," said
+the girl, impatiently. "Come, I say!"
+
+There was something rudely imperative in the girl's manner that forced
+him to go; but a sinister smile crept over his face as he took his hat
+and followed her through the back way down to the orchard, over which
+the purple dusk was gathering, though flashes of sunlight still
+trembled on the hill-tops.
+
+Judith did not accept the half-offered arm of the young man, but
+walked by his side, her head erect, her hands moving restlessly, and
+her black eyes, full of wistful fire, now and then turning upon him.
+
+She leaped over the stone wall without help, though Storms reached out
+his hand, and frowned darkly when she refused it.
+
+Down to an old gnarled tree, bristling with dead limbs, she led the
+way, and halted under its shadows.
+
+"What does this mean?" said Storms, in a cold, low voice. "Why do you
+insist on bringing me here?"
+
+"Because of something that worries me," answered Judith, trembling all
+over; "because I want to know the truth."
+
+"I wonder if there is a girl in the world who has not something to
+worry her?" said Storms, with smiling sarcasm. "Well, now, what is the
+trouble? Have the old magpies been picking you to pieces again?"
+
+"No, it isn't that, but something--I know it isn't true; but it seems
+to me that I can never draw a long breath till you've told me so over
+and over again--sworn to it."
+
+A shade of disturbance gathered on the young man's face, but he looked
+at the girl, as she spoke, with sinister coolness.
+
+"But you do not tell me what this dreadful thing is that takes away
+your breath."
+
+"I--I know it is silly--"
+
+"Of course; but what is it?"
+
+"They tell me--I know it is an awful falsehood--but they tell me that
+you are engaged!"
+
+"Well!"
+
+"Well!--you say 'well,' as if it were possible!" cried the girl,
+looking wildly into his face.
+
+"All things are possible, Judith. But is this the only thing that
+troubles you?"
+
+"Is not that enough--more than enough? Why do you wait so long before
+denying it? Why do you look so dark and keen, as if an answer to that
+slander needed thought? Why don't you speak out?"
+
+"Because I want to know everything that you have heard first, that I
+may deny it altogether."
+
+"Then you deny it, do you?"
+
+"Not till I have all the rest. When people are down on a man, they do
+not often stop at one charge. What is the next?"
+
+"Oh, they amounted to nothing compared to this--just nothing. Idling
+away time, spending money. I--I don't remember! There was something,
+but I took no heed. This one thing drove the rest out of my mind. Now
+will you answer me?"
+
+"Answer me a question first."
+
+"Oh, what is it? Be quick! Have I not told you that I cannot breathe?"
+
+"What do you care about the matter?"
+
+"What do I care?" repeated the girl, aghast.
+
+"Yes; why should you?"
+
+The same love of cruelty that made this man behead thistles with his
+cane and set dogs to tear each other, influenced him now. He revelled
+in the young creature's anguish, and, being an epicure in malice,
+sought to prolong it.
+
+How could the girl answer, with so much stormy surprise choking back
+her utterance? This man, who had spent so much time with her, who had
+flattered her as if she had been a goddess, whose very presence had
+made her the happiest creature on earth, was looking quietly in her
+stormy face, and asking why she should care if he were pledged to
+marry another!
+
+She could not speak, but looked at him in blank dismay, her great
+black eyes wildly open, her lips quivering in their whiteness.
+
+"You ask me that?" she said, at length, in a low, hoarse voice--"you
+dare to ask me that, after--after--"
+
+"After what?" he said, with an innocent, questioning look, that stung
+her like an insult.
+
+The girl had her voice now. Indignation brought it back. But what
+could she say? In a thousand forms that man had expressed his love for
+her; but never once in direct words, such as even a finer nature than
+hers could have fashioned into a direct claim.
+
+The wrathful agony in her eyes startled the young man from his studied
+apathy; but before he could reach out his arms or speak, she lifted
+both hands to her throat and fled downward toward the gap.
+
+This fierce outburst of passion startled the man who had so coolly
+aroused it. He sprang after the girl, overtook her as she came near
+the precipice, increasing her speed as if she meant to leap over, and
+seizing her by the waist, swung her back with a force that almost
+threw her to the ground.
+
+"Are you crazy?" he said, as she stood before him, fierce and panting
+for breath.
+
+"No," she answered, drawing so close to him that her white face almost
+touched his; "but you are worse than that--stark, staring mad, I tell
+you--when you expect to even me with any other girl."
+
+"Even you with any other girl!" said Storms, really startled. "As if
+any one ever thought of it! Why, one would think you never heard of a
+joke before!"
+
+"A joke?--a joke?"
+
+"Yes, you foolish child, you beautiful fiend--a joke on my part, but
+something more with the miserable old gossips that have gotten up
+stories to torment you. As if you had not had enough of their lies!"
+
+Judith drew a deep breath, and looked at him with all the pitiful
+intensity of a dumb animal recovering from a blow.
+
+"They seemed to be in earnest. They said that you were about to marry
+some girl of your mother's choosing."
+
+"Well, what then? That was reason enough why you should have laughed
+at it."
+
+"But you hesitated. You looked at me with a wicked smile."
+
+"No wonder. Who could help laughing at such folly?"
+
+"Folly--is it folly? Just now your face is pale, but when I look at
+you a hot red comes about your eyes. I don't like it--I don't like
+it!"
+
+"Is it strange that a sensible fellow can't help blushing when the
+girl he loves makes a fool of herself?"
+
+Judith looked in that keen, sinister face with misgiving; but Storms
+had gained full command of his countenance now, and met her scrutiny
+with a smile.
+
+"Come, come," he said, "no more of this nonsense. There isn't any such
+girl as you are dreaming of in the world."
+
+"Oh, Richard, _are_ you telling me the truth?" questioned the girl,
+clasping her hands, and reaching them out with a gesture of wild
+entreaty.
+
+"The truth, and nothing but the truth, on my honor--on my soul!"
+
+A fragment of rock half imbedded in the earth lay near Judith. She
+sunk down upon it, dashed both hands up to her face, and burst into a
+wild passion of weeping that shook her from head to foot.
+
+The young man stood apart, regarding her with mingled astonishment and
+dismay. Up to this time she had been scarcely more than an overgrown
+child in his estimation, but this outgush of strength, wrath, and
+tears bespoke something sterner and more unmanageable than
+that--something that he must appease and guard against, or mischief
+might come of it.
+
+He approached her with more of respect in his manner than it had ever
+exhibited before, and said, in a low, conciliatory tone:
+
+"Come, Judith, now that you know this story to be all lies, what are
+you crying about? Don't you see that it is getting dark? What will
+your father think?"
+
+Judith dashed the tears from her eyes, and, taking his arm, clung to
+it lovingly as she went toward home.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+PROTEST AND APPEAL.
+
+
+"Father, father, do not ask me to meet him; from the first it was an
+evil engagement, broken, or should have been. Why do you wish to take
+it up again?"
+
+Ruth Jessup, who made this appeal, stood in front of her father, who
+had just told her that it had been arranged that a speedy marriage
+should terminate the engagement with Richard Storms--an engagement
+entered into when she was scarcely more than a child. "It was high
+time the thing was settled," he said, "while neighbor Storms was
+pleased with his son and ready to settle a handsome property on him.
+That, with the money that would be hers in time, might enable them to
+move among the best in the neighborhood."
+
+The girl listened to all this with a wild look in her face,
+half-rebellion, half-terror. "No," she said, straining her hands
+together in a passionate clasp, "you must not ask me to take him. I
+could not love him--the very idea is dreadful."
+
+"But, girl, you are engaged to him. My word is given--my word is
+given."
+
+"But only on condition, father--only on the condition of his
+amendment."
+
+"Well, the young man has come through his probation like a gentleman,
+as he has a right to be. He just rode by here on his bay horse, as
+fine a looking young fellow as one need want for a son-in-law, lifting
+his hat like a lord as he passed me. We may expect him here to-night."
+
+"But, father, I will not see him. I--I cannot."
+
+The girl was pale and anxious; her eyes were eloquent with pleading,
+her mouth tremulous.
+
+"And why not?"
+
+"Only I cannot--I never can like him again."
+
+The kind-hearted gardener sat down in the nearest chair, and took
+those two clasped hands in his, looking gravely but very kindly into
+the girl's troubled face.
+
+"Daughter," he said, "workingmen don't pretend to fine sentiments, but
+we have our own ideas of honor, and a man's word once given in good
+faith must be kept, let the cost be what it may. I have given my word
+to neighbor Storms. It must be honestly redeemed. You made no
+objection then."
+
+"But, oh, father, I was so young! How could I know what an awful thing
+I was doing?"
+
+"If it was a mistake, who but ourselves should suffer for it, Ruth?"
+
+"But he went astray--his company was of the worst."
+
+"That is all changed and atoned for."
+
+The girl shook her head.
+
+"Oh, father, he was never a good son."
+
+"That, too, is changed; no man was ever more proud of a son than
+neighbor Storms is now of this young man."
+
+The girl turned away and began to cry.
+
+"I thought you had given this up--that I should never again be
+tormented with it! He seemed willing to leave me alone; but now only
+three weeks after my godmother has promised to give me her money he
+comes back again! Oh, I wish she had promised it to some one else!"
+
+"That is the very reason why we should fulfil our obligations to the
+letter, Ruth. It must not be said that a child of mine drew back from
+her father's plighted word because her dower promised to be more than
+double anything he had counted on when it was given."
+
+The girl's eyes flashed and her lips curved.
+
+"If it has made him more eager, I may well consider it," she said;
+"and I think it has."
+
+"Shame on you, daughter! Such suspicions are unbecoming!"
+
+"I cannot help them, father; the very thought of this man is hateful
+to me."
+
+"Well, well," said the father, soothingly, but not the less firm in
+his purpose; "the young man must plead his own cause. I have no fear
+that he will find my child unreasonable."
+
+The harassed young creature grew desperate; she followed her father to
+the door of an inner room.
+
+"Father, come back, come back! It is cruel to put me off so!"
+
+Ruth drew her father into the room again, and renewed her protest with
+the passionate entreaties that had been so ineffectual. In her
+desperation she spoke with unusual energy, while now and then her
+sentences were broken up with sobs.
+
+"Oh, father, do not insist--do not force this marriage upon me! It
+will be my death, my destruction! I detest the man!"
+
+Jessup turned away from her. That sweet appealing face made his heart
+ache.
+
+Ruth saw this look of relenting, and would not give up her cause. She
+approached close to her father, and, clinging to his arm, implored
+him, with bitter sobs, to believe her when she said that this marriage
+would be worse than death to her.
+
+"Hush, girl!" said the old man. "Hush, now, or I may believe some
+hints that the young man has thrown out of another person. No girl in
+these parts would refuse a young fellow so well-to-do and so
+good-looking, if she hadn't got some one else in her mind."
+
+This speech was rendered more significant by a look of suspicion,
+which brought a rush of scarlet into the daughter's face.
+
+"Oh, father, you are cruel!" cried the tortured young creature,
+struggling, as it were, for her life.
+
+The old man turned away from this pathetic pleading; nothing but a
+stern sense of honor, which is so strong in some men of his class,
+could have nerved him against the anguish of this appeal.
+
+"We have given our word, child; we have given our word," he said.
+"Neither you nor your father can go beyond that."
+
+The gardener's voice faltered and he broke away from the trembling
+hands with which Ruth in her desperation sought to hold him. For the
+first time in his life he had found strength to resist her
+entreaties.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+THE HEART STRUGGLE.
+
+
+Humble as Jessup's little dwelling was, there hovered about it a
+spirit of beauty which would have made even an uncouth object
+beautiful to an imaginative person. The very wild things about the
+park seemed to understand this: for the sweetest-toned birds haunted
+its eaves, and the most timid hares would creep through the tangled
+flower-beds and commit petty depredations in the little
+vegetable-garden with a sense of perfect security.
+
+As the dawn brightened into sunrise one fair June morning a slight
+noise was heard in the house. The door opened, and the gardener, in
+the strength of his middle age, stout, fair-faced, and genial, came
+through, carrying a carpet-bag in his hand. Directly behind him, in
+the jasmine porch, stood his daughter, who seemed to shrink and
+tremble when her father turned back, and, taking her in his arms,
+kissed her twice upon the forehead with great tenderness.
+
+"Take good care of yourself, child," he said, with a look of kindly
+admonition, "and do not go too freely into the park while I am away,
+if you would not wish to meet any guest from the house."
+
+The girl grew pale rather than crimson, and tried to cover her
+agitation by throwing both arms about her father's neck, and kissing
+him with a passion of tenderness.
+
+"There! there!" said the man, patting her head, and drawing his hand
+down the shining braids of her hair, with a farewell caress. "I will
+be home again before bedtime; or, if not, leave a lamp burning, and a
+bit of bread-and-cheese on the table, with a sup of ale; for I shall
+be sore and hungry! One does not eat London fare with a home relish."
+
+"But you will surely come?" said the girl, with strange anxiety.
+
+"Surely, child. I never sleep well under any roof but this."
+
+"But, perhaps--It--it may be that you will come in an earlier train."
+
+"No, no! There will be none coming this way. So do not expect me
+before ten of the night."
+
+A strange, half-frightened light came into the girl's eyes, and she
+stood upon the porch watching the traveller's receding figure as long
+as she could see him through her blinding tears. Then she went into
+the house, cast herself on a chair, and, throwing both arms across a
+table, burst into a wild passion of distress.
+
+After a time she started up, and flung back the heavy masses of hair
+that had fallen over her arms.
+
+"I cannot--I dare not!" she said, flinging her hands apart, with
+desperate action. "He will never, never forgive me!"
+
+For a time she sat drearily in her chair, with tears still on her
+cheek, and hanging heavily on the curling blackness of her eye-lashes.
+Very sad, and almost penitent she looked as she sat thus, with her
+eyes bent on the floor, and her hands loosely clasped. The rustic
+dress, in which a peculiar red color predominated, had all the
+picturesque effect of an antique painting; but the face was young,
+fresh, and deeply tinted with a bright gipsy-like richness of beauty,
+altogether at variance with her father's form or features. Still she
+was not really unlike him. Her voice had the same sweet, mellow
+tones, and her smile was even more softly winning.
+
+But she was not smiling now; far from it! A quiver of absolute
+distress stirred her red lips, and the shadow of many a painful
+thought swept her face as she sat there battling with her own heart.
+
+All at once the old brass clock struck with the clangor of a bell.
+This aroused the girl; she started up, in a panic, and began to clear
+the table, from which her father had eaten his early breakfast, in
+quick haste. One by one, she put away the pieces of old blue china
+into an oaken cupboard, and set the furniture in order about the room,
+trembling all the time, and pausing now and then to listen, as if she
+expected to be disturbed.
+
+When all was in order, and the little room swept clean, the girl
+looked around in breathless bewilderment. She searched the face of the
+clock, yet never gathered from it how the minutes passed. She saw the
+sunshine coming into the window, bathing the white jasmine-bells with
+a golden light, and shrunk from it like a guilty thing.
+
+"I--I have time yet. He must not come here. I dare not wait."
+
+The girl snatched up a little straw-hat, garlanded with scarlet
+poppies, and hastily tied it on her head. In the midst of her distress
+she cast a look into the small mirror which hung upon the wall, and
+dashed one hand across her eyes, angry with the tears that flushed
+them.
+
+"If he sees that I can weep, he will understand how weak I am, and all
+will go for nothing," she said. "Oh, God help me, here he is!"
+
+Sure enough, through the overhanging trees Ruth saw young Hurst
+walking down along a path which ran along the high banks of the
+ravine. He saw the gleam of her garments through the leaves, and came
+toward her with both hands extended.
+
+"Ready so soon, my darling?" he exclaimed, with animation. "I saw your
+father safe on the highway, and came at once; but--but what does this
+mean? Surely, Ruth, you cannot go in that dress?"
+
+"No, I cannot. Oh, Mr. Walton, I dare not so disobey my father! He
+would never, never forgive me!"
+
+The young man drew back, and a flash of angry surprise darkened his
+face.
+
+"Is it that you will disappoint me, Ruth? Have I deserved this?"
+
+"No, no; but he trusts me!"
+
+"Have I not trusted you?"
+
+"But my father--my father?"
+
+"It is your father who drives us to this. He is unrelenting, or that
+presumptuous wretch would not be permitted to enter his dwelling. Has
+he dared to present himself again?"
+
+"Yes, last night; but for that I might have lost all courage, all
+power of resistance."
+
+"And you saw him? You spoke with him?"
+
+"Only in my father's presence. I would not see him alone."
+
+"And after seeing him, you repent?"
+
+"No--no--a thousand times no. It is only of my father I think. I am
+all that he has in the world!" cried the girl, in a passion of
+distress.
+
+"Have I not considered this? Do I ask you to leave him at once? One
+would think that I intended some great wrong; that, instead of
+taking--"
+
+"Hush, hush, Mr. Walton! Do not remind me how far I am beneath you.
+This is the great barrier which I tremble to pass. My father never
+will forgive me if I dare to--"
+
+"Become the wife of an honorable man, who loves you well enough to
+force him into saving his child from a hateful marriage, at the price
+of deceiving his own father."
+
+"Oh, no! no! It is because you are so generous, so ready to stake
+everything for me, that I hesitate."
+
+"No, it is because you fear the displeasure of a man who has almost
+separated us in his stubborn idea of honor. It is to his pride that my
+own must be sacrificed."
+
+"Pride, Walton?"
+
+"Yes, for he is proud enough to break up my life and yours."
+
+"Oh, Walton, this is cruel!"
+
+"Cruel! Can you say this, Ruth? You who trifle with me so recklessly?"
+
+"I do not trifle; but I dare not--I dare not--"
+
+The young man turned aside with a frown upon his face, darker and
+sterner than the girl had ever seen there before.
+
+"You certainly never will trifle with me again," he said, in a deep,
+stern voice, which made the heart in the poor girl's bosom quiver as
+if an arrow had gone through it.
+
+"Oh, do not leave me in anger," she pleaded.
+
+He walked on, taking stern, resolute strides along the path. She saw
+that his face was stormy, his gestures determined, and sprang forward,
+panting for breath.
+
+"Oh, Walton, Walton, forgive me!"
+
+He looked down into her wild, eager face, gloomily.
+
+"Ruth, you have never loved me. You will be prevailed upon to marry
+that hound."
+
+She reached up her arms, and flung herself on his bosom.
+
+"Oh, Walton, I do--I do love you!"
+
+"Then be ready, as you promised. I have but a moment to spare."
+
+"But my father!"
+
+"Is it easier to abandon the man who loves you, or to offend him?"
+
+"Oh, Walton, I will go; but alone--I tremble to think of it."
+
+"It is only for a few miles. In less than half an hour I will join
+you. Be careful to dress very quietly, and seem unconscious when we
+meet."
+
+"I will--I will! Only do not frown so darkly on me again."
+
+The young man turned his fine blue eyes full upon her.
+
+"Did my black looks terrify you, darling?" he said, with a smile that
+warmed her heart like a burst of sunshine. "But you deserved it.
+Remember that."
+
+Ruth looked in the handsome face of her lover with wistful yearning.
+While alone, with her father's kind farewell appealing to her
+conscience, she had felt capable of a great sacrifice; but with those
+eyes meeting hers, with that voice pleading in her heart, she forgot
+everything but the promise she had made, and the overwhelming love
+that prompted it.
+
+The young man read all this in those eloquent features, and would
+gladly have kissed the lips that still trembled between smiles and
+tears; but even in that solitude he was cautious.
+
+"Now, farewell for an hour or two, and then--"
+
+Ruth caught her breath with a quick gasp, and the color flashed back
+to her face, vivid as flame.
+
+A noise among the trees startled them both. Young Hurst turned
+swiftly, and walked away, saying, as he went:
+
+"Be punctual, for Heaven only knows when another opportunity will
+offer."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+ONE RASH STEP.
+
+
+Ruth Jessup hurried into the house, ran breathlessly to her chamber in
+the loft, and changed the coquettish dress, which gave such
+picturesque brightness to her beauty, for one of mingled gray and
+black. Not a tinge of warm color was there to betray her identity. Her
+small bonnet was covered by a veil so thick that no one could clearly
+distinguish the features underneath. In truth, her very air seemed
+changed, for graceful ease had given place to a timid, hesitating
+movement, that was entirely at variance with her character.
+
+She came down-stairs hurriedly, and rushed through the little parlor,
+as if afraid that the very walls might cry out against the act she
+meditated.
+
+Ruth avoided the great avenues and the lodge-gate, but hurried by the
+most remote paths, through the deepest shades of the park, until one
+brought her to a side-gate in the wall, which she opened with a key,
+and let herself out into the highway. There she stood, for some
+minutes, with her hand on the latch, hesitating, in this supreme
+moment of her life, as if she stood upon a precipice, and, looking
+into its depths, recoiled with shuddering.
+
+It is possible that the girl might have returned even then, for a pang
+of dread had seized upon her; but, while she stood hesitating, a noise
+in the highway made her leap back from the gate with a force that
+closed it against her, and she stood outside, trembling from head to
+foot; for, coming down the highway in a cloud of dust, she saw a
+dog-cart, in which was Walton Hurst and a groom, driving rapidly, as
+if in haste to meet some train. The young man gave her one encouraging
+glance as he swept by; the next moment the dog-cart had turned a curve
+of the road, and was out of sight.
+
+Ruth felt now that her last chance of retreat was cut off. With a
+feeling of something like desperation she left the gate, and walked
+swiftly up the road. There was no sense of fatigue in this young girl.
+In her wild excitement, she could have walked miles on miles without
+being conscious of the distance. She did, in fact, walk on and on,
+keeping well out of sight, till she came to a little depot, some three
+miles from "Norston's Rest." There she diverged from her path, and,
+entering the building, sat down in a remote corner, and waited, with a
+feeling of nervous dread, that made her start and quiver as each
+person entered the room.
+
+At last the train came up, creating some bustle and confusion, though
+only a few passengers were in waiting. Under cover of this excitement,
+Ruth took her seat in a carriage, and was shut in with a click of the
+latch which struck upon the poor girl's heart, as if some fatal turn
+of a key had locked her in with an irretrievable fate.
+
+The train rushed on with a swiftness and force that almost took away
+the girl's breath. It seemed to her as if she had been caught up and
+hurled forward to her destiny with a force no human will could
+resist. Then she grew desperate. The rush of the engine seemed too
+slow for the wild desire that succeeded to her irresolution. Yet it
+was not twenty minutes before the train stopped again, and, looking
+through the window, Ruth saw her lover leap from the platform and
+enter the next carriage to her own.
+
+Had he seen her? Did the lightning glance cast that way give him a
+glimpse of her face looking so eagerly through the glass? At any rate,
+he was in the same train with her, and once more they were hurled
+forward at lightning speed, until sixty miles lay between them and the
+mansion they had left.
+
+Once more the train stopped. This time a hand whiter than that of the
+guard, was reached through the door, and a face that made her heart
+leap with a panic of joy and fear, looked into hers. She scarcely
+touched this proffered hand, but flitted out to the platform, like a
+bird let loose in a strange place. This was a way-side station, and it
+happened that no person except those two left the train at this
+particular point. Still they parted like chance passengers, and there
+was no one to observe the few rapid words that passed between them in
+the small reception-room.
+
+When the train was out of sight, and all the bustle attendant on its
+arrival had sunk into silence, these two young persons entered a
+carriage that stood waiting, and drove swiftly toward a small town,
+clouded with the smoke of factories, that lay in the distance. Through
+the streets of this town, and into another, still more remote, they
+drove, and at last drew up in a small village, to which the spire of a
+single church gave something of picturesque dignity.
+
+To the door of this church the carriage went, after avoiding the
+inhabitable portion of the village by taking a cross-road, which led
+through a neighboring moor. Into the low-browed entrance Walton Hurst
+led the girl. The church was dim, and so damp that it struck a chill
+through the young creature as she approached the altar, where a man,
+in sacred vestments, stood with an open book in his hand, prepared for
+a solemn ceremony.
+
+Two or three persons sauntered up to the church-door, attracted by the
+unusual presence of a carriage in that remote place, and some, more
+curious than the rest, came inside, and drew, open-mouthed, toward the
+altar, while the marriage ceremony was being performed.
+
+When the bride turned from the altar, shivering and pale with intense
+excitement, two or three of these persons secured a full view of her
+face, and never forgot it afterward; for anything more darkly, richly
+beautiful than her features had never met their eyes.
+
+Ruth was indeed lovely in this supreme moment of her life. The pallor
+of concentrated emotion gave depth and almost startling brilliancy to
+those great eyes, bright as stars, and soft as velvet, which were for
+one moment turned upon them. All else might have been forgotten in
+after years; but that one glance was burnt like enamel on more than
+one memory when Walton Hurst's marriage was made known to the world.
+
+The vestry was dark and damp when they entered it, followed by a grim
+old clerk, and at a more respectful distance after them came three or
+four of the villagers, who only saw the shadowy picture of a man and
+woman bending over a huge book--the one writing his name with a bold
+dash of the hand, the other trembling so violently that for a moment
+she was compelled to lay the pen down, while she looked into her
+husband's face with a pathetic plea for patience with her weakness.
+
+But the names were written at last, and the young couple left the
+church in haste, as they had entered it--the bride with a bit of paper
+held tightly in her hand, the bridegroom looking happy and elated, as
+if he had conquered some enemy.
+
+As they drove away, two or three of the villagers, who had been drawn
+into the church, turned back from the porch, and stole into the vestry
+where the clerk stood by his open register, examining a piece of gold
+that had been thrust into his hand, with a look of greedy unbelief.
+
+The clerk was saying,
+
+"See, neighbor Knox, it is gold--pure gold. Did any one ever see the
+like? There is the face of Her Majesty, plain as the sun in yon sky.
+Oh, if a few more such rare windfalls would but come this way, my
+place would be worth having."
+
+The sight of this gold only whetted the villagers' curiosity to fresh
+vigor. They became eager to know what great man it was who had come
+among them, with such shadow-like stillness, leaving only golden
+traces of his presence in the church; for the clerk hinted, with glee,
+that the pastor had been rewarded fourfold for his share in the
+ceremony. Then one after another of these persons looked at the
+register. It chanced that the record was made on the top of a blank
+page; thus the two names were rendered more than usually conspicuous.
+This was the record:
+
+    WALTON HURST--RUTH JESSUP.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+ON THE WAY HOME.
+
+
+"My darling--my wife! Look up and tell me that your joy is equal to
+mine," said Hurst, when he and his bride were seated in the carriage.
+"No! that is impossible; but say that you are happy, my Ruth!"
+
+"Happy!" said the girl. "Oh, Walton, it is cruel that I can be so; but
+I am--I am!"
+
+The young man took her hands in his, and kissed them with passionate
+warmth.
+
+"You will never repent, Ruth?"
+
+"Repent that I am your wife! That you--" Here the girl's great earnest
+eyes fell and were shaded at once by lashes black as themselves.
+
+"Well, darling, what more?"
+
+"That you are my husband."
+
+The word seemed to flood her heart with sunshine, and her face with
+burning blushes. Its very sound was full of exquisite shame. Hurst
+drew that face to his bosom and kissed it with tender reverence.
+
+"Now, my beloved, we are all the world to each other."
+
+"All, all," she murmured; "but, oh, what will my father do?"
+
+"He can do nothing, Ruth. But that his word was so rashly given, and
+his love for the old family so near a religion, that his consent could
+never have been attained, even though Sir Noel had himself commanded
+it--there should have been no secrecy in this."
+
+"Oh, if that had been possible! But Sir Noel never would have seen his
+heir stoop as he has done for a wife."
+
+"Sir Noel is not like other men of his class, my Ruth. His pride is
+too noble for small prejudices. Besides, I think he has suspected from
+the first how dear you are to me; for in a conversation the other day
+he seemed to hint at a vague approval. But for this I should not have
+acted without his positive consent."
+
+"But my father never would have given _his_ consent, even if Sir Noel
+himself had commanded it," said Ruth. "He would rather die than drag
+down the dignity of the Hursts."
+
+"It was this stiff-necked integrity that forced me to a step that will
+be more likely to anger Sir Noel than the marriage itself would have
+done. One glimpse of the truth would have aroused your father to drive
+me from his house, dearly as he has always loved me. Then would have
+come this question of young Storms--don't tremble so--are you not my
+wife?"
+
+"I--I should have been compelled to marry him. He loves me. My father
+would die for me any minute; but were I fifty times as dear he would
+sacrifice me to the dignity of the Hursts--to a promise once given,"
+said Ruth, lifting her face from the bosom where it had rested.
+
+"But you?"
+
+"I could not have resisted. My father is so loving--so kind. He would
+have told me of your grandeur, your long descent, of the noble--nay,
+royal ladies--that had been mated with the Hursts. He would have
+crushed me under the weight of my own miserable presumption. He would
+have told me, in plain speech, what my heart reproaches me with every
+minute now most of all, when I am daring to be so happy."
+
+"But you are happy?"
+
+"Oh, Walton, it seems like wickedness, but I am; so weak, however, so
+fearful of what must come. Oh, give me a little time! Permit me to
+dream a while until some chance or great necessity makes concealment
+impossible. I have no courage left."
+
+"But this Storms?"
+
+"I have got a little respite from my father; he will not break his
+word, though I pleaded with him almost upon my knees--but I am not to
+be hurried. They are to give me time, and now, that I know in my heart
+that it can never, never be, the terror of him is gone. So let me have
+just one little season of rest before you break this to my poor
+father, and make me afraid to look Sir Noel in the face."
+
+Perhaps this sweet pleading found some answer in the young man's
+wishes, for in speaking of Sir Noel's conversation in the library, he
+had discovered how little there was in it to warrant the step he had
+taken. At the best there was much in his rash precipitancy to
+displease the proud old baronet, though he should be found willing to
+forgive the mesalliance he had made.
+
+If these thoughts had great influence with Hurst, the terror and
+troubled eloquence of his bride completed his conviction. Drawing Ruth
+gently toward him, he kissed her upon the forehead; for this
+conversation, coming into the midst of their happiness, had subdued
+them both.
+
+"Be it as you wish, sweet wife. With perfect love and trust in each
+other, we need be in no haste to let any one share our secret."
+
+"Oh, how kind you are!" exclaimed the girl, brightening into fresh
+happiness. "This will give me time to study, to add something to the
+education that will be precious to me now; perhaps I can make myself
+less unworthy of your father's forgiveness."
+
+"Unworthy?" answered Hurst, wounded, yet half charmed by her sweet
+humility. "Sir Noel has always looked upon you as a pretty favorite,
+whom it was a pleasure to protect; and my cousin, the Lady Rose--"
+
+"Ah, how ungrateful, how forward she will think me! My heart grows
+heavy when her name is mentioned."
+
+"She has always been your friend, Ruth."
+
+"I know--I know; and in return I have had the presumption to think of
+making myself her equal."
+
+"There can be no presumption in the wife of a Hurst accepting all that
+he has to give; but let us talk of something else. If our happiness is
+to be a secret, we must not mar its first dawning with apprehensions
+and regrets. Some perplexities will arise, for our position will be an
+embarrassing one; but there is no reason why we should anticipate
+them. It will be difficult enough to guard our secret so well that no
+one shall guess it."
+
+Ruth was smiling. She could not think it difficult to keep a secret
+that seemed to her far too sweet and precious for the coarser sympathy
+of the world. The sacredness of her marriage was rendered more
+profound by the silence that sanctified it to her mind.
+
+But now the carriage stopped, and the driver was heard getting down
+from the box. Hurst looked out.
+
+They were in a village through which the railroad passed--not the one
+they had stopped at. They had been taken above that by a short route
+from the church, which the driver had chosen without consultation.
+
+"So soon! Surely we are in the wrong place," said Hurst, impatient
+that his happiness should be broken in upon.
+
+"You seemed particular about meeting the down train, sir, and I came
+the nearest way. It is due in five minutes," answered the man,
+touching his hat.
+
+There was no time for expostulation or regret. In fact, the man had
+acted wisely, if "Norston's Rest" was to be reached in time to save
+suspicion. So the newly-married pair separated with a hurried
+hand-clasp, each took a separate carriage, and glided safely into
+dreamland, as the train flew across the country at the rate of fifty
+miles an hour.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+THE LADY ROSE.
+
+
+"Norston's Rest" was brilliantly lighted, for a dinner-party had
+assembled, when its heir drove up in his dog-cart that night, and
+leaping out, threw his reins to the groom, with some hasty directions
+about to-morrow. It was near the dinner hour, and several fair guests
+were lingering on the broad, stone terrace, or shaded by the silken
+and lace curtains of the drawing-room, watching for his return with
+that pretence of graceful indifference with which habits of society
+veil the deepest feeling.
+
+One fair creature retreated from the terrace, with a handful of
+flowers which she had gathered hastily from a stone vase, and carried
+away when the first sound of wheels reached her; but she lingered in
+a little room that opened from the great hall, and seemed to be
+arranging her flowers with diligence in a vase that stood on a small
+malachite table, when young Hurst came in.
+
+Unconsciously, and against her own proud will, she lifted her face
+from the flowers, and cast an eager glance into the hall, wondering in
+her heart if he would care to seek her for a moment before he went up
+to dress.
+
+The young man saw her standing there quite alone, sweet and bright as
+the flowers she was arranging, and paused a moment, after drawing off
+his gloves; but he turned away and went up the broad, oaken staircase,
+with the thoughts of another face, dark, piquant, and more wildly
+beautiful, all bathed in blushes, too vividly in his mind for any
+other human features to throw even a shadow there.
+
+The Lady Rose dropped a branch of heliotrope and a moss-rosebud, which
+had for one instant trembled in her hand, as Hurst passed the door,
+and trod upon them with a sharp feeling of disappointment.
+
+"He knew that I was alone," she muttered, "and passed on without a
+word. He saw the flowers that he loves best in my hand, but would not
+claim them."
+
+Tears, hot, passionate tears, stood in the lady's eyes, and her white
+teeth met sharply for a moment, as if grinding some bitter thing
+between them; but when Hurst came down-stairs, fully dressed, he found
+her in the drawing-room, with a richer bloom than usual on her cheeks,
+and the frost-like lace, which fell in a little cloud over the soft
+blue of her dress, just quivering with the agitation she had made so
+brave an effort to suppress.
+
+As young Hurst came into the drawing-room, Sir Noel, who had been
+talking to a guest, came forward in the calm way habitual to his
+class, and addressed his son with something very like to a reproof.
+
+"We have almost waited," he said, glancing at the young lady as the
+person most aggrieved. "In fact, the dinner has been put back."
+
+The old man's voice was gentle and his manners suave; but there was a
+reserved undertone in his speech that warned the young heir of a
+deeper meaning than either was intended to suggest.
+
+Hurst only bowed for answer.
+
+"Now that he has come," the baronet added, smiling graciously on the
+young lady, but turning away from his son, "perhaps we shall not be
+entirely unforgiving."
+
+Walton Hurst made no apology, however, but offered his arm to Lady
+Rose, and followed his father's lead into the dining-room.
+
+It was a spacious apartment, brilliantly illuminated with gas and wax
+lights, which found a rich reflection from buffets loaded with plate,
+and a table on which gold, silver, and rare old glass gleamed and
+flashed through masses of hot-house flowers. A slow rustle of silken
+trains sweeping the floor, a slight confusion, and the party was
+seated.
+
+During the first course Lady Rose was restless and piqued. She found
+the person at her side so thoughtful that a feeling of wounded pride
+seized upon her, and gave to her manner an air of graceful defiance
+that at last drew his attention.
+
+So Hurst broke from the dreaminess of his love reverie and plunged
+into the gay conversation about him. Spite of himself the triumphant
+gladness of his heart burst forth, and in the glow of his own joy he
+met the half-shy, half-playful attentions of the high-bred creature
+by his side with a degree of brilliant animation which brought new
+bloom to her cheeks, and a smile of contentment to the lips of the
+proud old man at the head of the table. This smile deepened into a
+glow of entire satisfaction when the gentlemen were left to their
+wine; for then young Hurst made an excuse to his father, and, as the
+latter thought, followed the ladies into the drawing-room.
+
+Deep drinking at dinner-parties is no longer a practice in England, as
+it may have been years ago. Thus it was not many minutes before the
+baronet and his guests came up-stairs to find the ladies gathered in
+knots about the room, and one, at least, sitting in dissatisfied
+solitude near a table filled with books of engravings, which she did
+not care to open; for all her discontent had come back when she
+thought herself less attractive than the wines of some old vintage,
+stored before she was born.
+
+"But where is Walton?" questioned the old gentleman, approaching the
+girl, with a faint show of resentment. "Surely, Lady Rose, I expected
+to find him at your feet."
+
+"It is a place he seldom seeks," answered the lady, opening one of the
+books with assumed carelessness. "If he has left the table, I fancy it
+must have been him I saw crossing the terrace ten minutes ago."
+
+Sir Noel replied, incredulously:
+
+"Saw him crossing the terrace! There must have been some mistake. I am
+sure he spoke of going to the drawing-room."
+
+She hesitated.
+
+"He changed his mind, I suppose," she said at last, with a slight but
+haughty wave of her hand toward a great bay-window that looked out on
+the park. "I saw his face as he crossed that block of moonlight on
+the terrace, I am quite sure. Perhaps--"
+
+"Perhaps what, Lady Rose?"
+
+"He has some business at the gardener's cottage. Old Jessup is a
+favorite, you know," answered the lady, with a light laugh, in which
+the old man discovered the bitterness of latent jealousy.
+
+A hot, angry flush suffused the old man's face; but this was the only
+sign of anger that he gave. The next instant he was composed as ever,
+and answered her with seeming indifference.
+
+"Oh, yes, I remember; I had some orders for Jessup, which he was
+thoughtful enough to take."
+
+The lady smiled again, now with a curve of distrustful scorn on her
+red lips.
+
+"Perhaps he failed in giving your message earlier, and in his desire
+to please you has forsaken us."
+
+"Perhaps," was the indifferent reply. Then the old man moved quietly
+away, and speaking a gracious word here and there, glided out of the
+room.
+
+Later in the evening, Lady Rose had left her book of engravings, and
+stood shrouded in the sweeping draperies of the great window, looking
+out upon the park. Directly she saw the figure of her host gliding
+across the terrace, which, in that place, seemed flagged with silver,
+the moonlight lay so full upon it. The next moment he was lost in the
+blackest shadows of the park.
+
+"He has gone to seek him! Now I shall know the worst," she thought,
+while quick thrills of hope and dread shot like lances through her
+frame. "I could not stoop to spy upon him, but a father is different,
+and, once on the alert, will be implacable."
+
+While these thoughts were in her mind, the girl gave a sudden start,
+and grasped at the silken curtains, while a faint shivering came over
+her, that seemed like coming death.
+
+For deep in the woods of the park, where the gardener's cottage stood,
+she heard the sharp report of a gun.
+
+"Great Heaven! What can it mean?" she cried; clasping her hands. "What
+can it mean?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+ALONE IN THE COTTAGE.
+
+
+Breathless with apprehension, which was made half joy by an undeniable
+sense of happiness, all the more intense because it was gained by so
+much hazard, Ruth Jessup--for she dared not breathe that new name even
+to herself as yet--reached that remote gate in the park-wall, and
+darted like a frightened hare into the thick covert of the trees.
+There she lingered a while, holding her breath with dread. It was
+scarcely dark, but to her it seemed impossible that so few hours could
+have passed since she had stolen from her home. Surely, surely, her
+father must have returned. She would find him standing in the park,
+ready to arraign and judge her for the thing she had done; or he might
+come out to find her wandering among the ferns, so happy, yet so
+terrified, that she would like to stay there forever, like a bird in
+sight of its nest, trembling while it watched over its trust of love.
+
+The purple twilight was just veiling the soft, green gloom of the
+trees with its tender darkness. Now and then a pale flash of gold shot
+through the leaves, giving signs that the evening had but just closed
+in. Still the girl hesitated. Almost, for the first time in her life,
+she feared to meet her father face to face. The taste of forbidden
+fruit was on her lips, tainted with the faint bitterness of coming
+ashes.
+
+"I will go home--I must!" she said, rising from a fragment of rock
+that had given her a seat among the ferns. "There is yet a quiver of
+crimson in the air. It cannot be ten yet!"
+
+The girl walked slowly and cautiously on until a curve in the path
+brought her in sight of the cottage. Then her pent-up breath came
+forth in a glad exclamation.
+
+"It is dark yet! No one has been there in all this time!"
+
+Poor child! It seemed an age since she had left the house, and a
+miracle that she should have found it so still and solitary. When she
+entered the porch, the light of a rising moon was trembling down to
+the honeysuckles that clung to it, and a cloud of dewy fragrance
+seemed to welcome her home again tenderly, as if she had no deception
+in her heart, and was not trembling from head to foot with vague
+apprehensions.
+
+Taking a heavy key from under one of the seats which ran along each
+side of the porch, she opened the door and went into her home again.
+The moonlight came flickering through the oriel window, as if a bunch
+of silver arrows had been shivered against it, half illuminating the
+room with a soft, beautiful light. Ruth would gladly have sat down in
+this tranquil gloom, and given herself up to such dreams as follow a
+full certainty of being beloved, but the hoarse old clock twanged out
+the hour with a force that absolutely frightened her. She had not
+self-possession enough to count its strokes, but shuddered to think
+the night had possibly reached ten o'clock.
+
+She lighted a lamp, looked around to make sure that nothing had been
+left that could betray her, then ran up-stairs, flung off her
+sad-colored dress, set all her rich hair free, and came down in the
+jaunty red over-dress and black skirt that had given her beauty such
+picturesque effect in the morning. All day she had been pale and
+feverishly flushed by turns. Now a sense of safety gave her
+countenance a permanent richness of color that would have been
+dazzling in a broader light than that lamp could give. She was under
+shelter in her own familiar garment; could it be that all the rest was
+a dream? Had she, in fact, been married?
+
+A quick, frightened gasp answered the question. The lamp-light fell on
+a heavy circlet of new gold, that glittered on her finger.
+
+Yes, it was there! His hand had pressed it upon hers; his lips had
+kissed it reverently. Must she take it off? Was there no way of
+concealing the precious golden shackle, that seemed to hold her life
+in?
+
+That was impossible. That small, shapely hand had never felt the touch
+of ornament or ring before. The blaze of it seemed to light the whole
+room. Her father would see it and question her. No, no! it must be hid
+away before he came. She ran up-stairs, opened her bureau-drawer, and
+began to search eagerly for a ribbon narrow enough to escape
+attention. Knots of pink, and streamers of scarlet were there neatly
+arranged, but nothing that might answer her purpose, except a thread
+of black ribbon which had come out of her mourning two years before,
+when her mother died.
+
+Ruth snatched this up and swung her wedding-ring upon it, too much
+excited for superstition at the moment, and glad to feel the perilous
+gift safe in her bosom.
+
+Now all was hidden, no trace of her fault had been left. She might
+dare to look at the old clock.
+
+It lacked an hour and more of the time at which she might expect her
+father. Well, fortunately, she had something to do. His supper must be
+prepared. She would take good care of him now. He should lack nothing
+at her hands, since she had given him such grievous cause of offence.
+
+With these childlike ideas of atonement in her mind, Ruth took up a
+lamp, and going into the kitchen, kindled a fire; and spreading a
+white cloth on the table, set out the supper her father had desired of
+her. When the cold beef and mustard, the bread and cheese, were all
+daintily arranged, she bethought herself of his most favored dish of
+all, and taking a posset-dish of antique silver from the cupboard,
+half filled it with milk, which she set upon the coals to boil. Into
+this she from time to time broke bits of wheaten bread, and when the
+milk was all afoam, poured a cup of strong ale into it, which
+instantly resolved the whole mass into golden whey and snow-white
+curd.
+
+As Ruth stooped over the posset-cup, shading her face with one hand
+from the fire, and stirring its contents gently with a spoon, a noise
+at the window made her start and cry out with a suddenness that nearly
+upset the silver porringer.
+
+"Who is it? What is it?" she faltered, looking at the window with
+strained eyes. "Oh, have mercy! That face, that face!"
+
+Before she could move away from the hearth, some one shook the
+window-sash so violently, that a rain of dew fell from the ivy
+clustering around it.
+
+Ruth stood appalled; every vestige of color fled from her face; but
+she gave no further sign of the terror that shook her from head to
+foot. Directly the keen, handsome face that had peered through the
+glass disappeared, and the footsteps of a man walking swiftly sounded
+back from the gravel path which led to the front door.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+A STORMY ENCOUNTER.
+
+
+Ruth held her breath and listened. She heard the door open, and
+footsteps in the little passage. Then her natural courage aroused
+itself, and lifting the posset-cup from the coals, she left it on the
+warm hearth, and met the intruder at the kitchen door.
+
+"Is it you?" she said, with a quiver of fear in her voice. "I am sorry
+father is not at home."
+
+"But I am not," answered the young man, setting down a gun he had
+brought in, behind the door. "It was just because he wasn't here, and
+I knew it, that I came in. It is high time, miss, that you and I
+should have a talk together, and no father to put in his word between
+pipes."
+
+"What do you want? Why should you wish to speak with me at this time
+of night?"
+
+"Why, now, I like that," answered the young fellow, with a laugh that
+made Ruth shudder. "Well, I'll just come in and have my say. There
+mayn't be another chance like this."
+
+Richard Storms turned and advanced a step, as if he meant to enter the
+little parlor, but Ruth called him back. It seemed to her like
+desecration, that this man should tread on the same floor that Hurst,
+her husband--oh, how the thought swelled her heart!--had walked over.
+
+"Not there," she said. "I must mind my father's supper. He will be
+home in a few minutes."
+
+"Well, I don't much care; the kitchen seems more natural. It is here
+that we used to sit before the young master found out how well-favored
+you are, as if he couldn't find comely faces enough at the house, but
+must come poaching down here on my warren."
+
+"Who are you speaking of? I cannot make it out," faltered Ruth,
+turning cold.
+
+"Who? As if you didn't know well enough; as if I didn't see you and
+him talking together thick as two bees this very morning."
+
+"No, no!" protested Ruth, throwing out both her hands. "You could
+not--you did not!"
+
+"But I did, though, and the gun just trembled of itself in my hand, it
+so wanted to be at him. If it hadn't been that you seemed offish, and
+he looked black as a thunder-clap, I couldn't have kept my hand from
+the trigger."
+
+"That would have been murder," whispered the girl, through her white
+lips.
+
+"Murder, would it? That's according as one thinks. What do men carry a
+gun at night for, let me ask you, but to keep the deer and the birds
+safe from poachers? If they catch them at it, haven't they a right to
+fire? Well, Ruth, you are my game, and my gun takes care of you as
+keepers protect the deer. It will be safe to warn the young master of
+that!"
+
+"I do not know--I cannot understand--"
+
+"Oh, you don't, ha!" broke in the young man, throwing himself into a
+chair and stretching out his legs on the hearth. "Well, then, I'll
+tell you a secret about him that'll take the starch out of your pride.
+You're not the only girl with a pretty face that brings him among my
+covers!"
+
+"What?"
+
+"Ah, ha! Oh, ho! That wakes you up, does it? I thought so. Nothing
+like a swoop of spite to bring a girl out of cover."
+
+"I do not understand you," said Ruth, flashing out upon her tormentor
+with sudden spirit. "What have I to do with anything you are talking
+about?"
+
+"The other lass, you mean. Not much, of course. It isn't likely he put
+her in your way."
+
+A burst of indignation, perhaps of something more stinging than that,
+filled the splendid eyes with fire that Ruth fixed upon her tormentor.
+
+"Do you know--can you even guess that it is my--my--!"
+
+The girl broke her imprudent speech off with a thrill of warning that
+left the prints of her white teeth on the burning lips which had
+almost betrayed her. In her terror the insult that followed was almost
+a relief.
+
+"Sweetheart!" sneered the young man.
+
+She did not heed the word or sneer; both were a proof that her secret
+was safe as yet.
+
+"One up at the house, one here, and another--well, no matter about
+her. You understand?"
+
+"You slander an honorable gentleman," said Ruth, controlling herself
+with a great effort.
+
+"Do I? Ask the Lady Rose, if she ever stoops to speak to you."
+
+"She is a sweet, gracious lady," broke in Ruth, magnanimous in her
+swift jealousy. "A great lady, who refuses speech or smile to no one."
+
+"Ask her, then, who was out on the terrace this evening, before he
+came home, robbing the great stone vases of their sweetest flowers for
+his button-hole!"
+
+Ruth lifted one hand to her bosom, and pressed the golden ring there
+close to her heart.
+
+Then turning to the young man, who was watching her keenly, she said,
+with composure:
+
+"Well, why should you or I ask such questions of the young lady? I
+would no more do that than spy upon her, as you have done!"
+
+Storms looked at her keenly from under his bent brows, and his thin
+lips closed with a baffled expression.
+
+"Off the scent," he thought. "What is it? She was hot on the chase
+just now. Has she really doubled on him?"
+
+"It needs no spying to see what goes on up there," he answered, after
+a moment, waving his head toward the great house. "Grand people like
+them think we have neither eyes nor ears. They pay us for being
+without them, and think we earn our wages like dumb cattle. Just as if
+sharpness went with money. But we do see and hear, when they would be
+glad to think us blind and dumb!"
+
+The girl made no answer. She longed to question the creature she
+despised, and had a fierce struggle with her heart, until more
+honorable feelings put down the swift cravings of jealousy that were
+wounding her heart, as bees sting a flower while rifling it of honey.
+
+The young man watched her cunningly, but failed to understand her. The
+jealousy which made him so cruel had no similitude with her finer and
+keener feelings. He longed to see her break out in a tirade of abuse,
+or to have her question him broadly, as he wished to answer.
+
+Ruth did nothing of the kind. In the tumult of feelings aroused by his
+words she remembered all that had been done that day, and, with sudden
+vividness of recollection, the promise of caution she had made to her
+husband.
+
+Her husband! She pressed her hand against her bosom, where the
+wedding-ring lay hid, and a glorified expression came to her face as
+she turned it toward the firelight, absolutely forgetful that a
+hateful intruder shared it with her.
+
+Richard Storms was baffled, and a little saddened by the strange
+beauty in the face his eyes were searching.
+
+"Ruth!" he said at length. "Ruth!"
+
+The girl started. His voice had dragged her out of a dream of heaven.
+She looked around vaguely on finding herself on earth again, and with
+him.
+
+"Well," she said, impatiently, "what would you say to me?"
+
+"Just this: when is it to be? I am really tired of waiting."
+
+"Tired of waiting!" said Ruth, impatiently. "Waiting for what?"
+
+"Why, for our wedding-day. What else?"
+
+The proud blood of an empress seemed to flame up into the girl's face;
+a smile, half rage, half scorn, curved her lips, which, finally,
+relaxed into a clear, ringing laugh.
+
+"You--you think to marry me!" was her broken exclamation, as the
+untoward laugh died out.
+
+The young man turned fiery red. The scornfulness of that laugh stung
+him, and he returned it with interest.
+
+"No wonder you ask," he said, with a sharp, venomous look, from which
+she shrunk instinctively. "It isn't every honest man that would hold
+to his bargain, after all these galivantings with the young master."
+
+Ruth turned white as snow, and caught hold of a chair for support. Her
+evident terror seemed to appease the tormentor, and he continued, with
+a relenting laugh, "Don't be put about, though. I'm too fond to be
+jealous, because my sweetheart takes a turn now and then in the
+moonlight when she thinks no one is looking."
+
+"Your sweetheart! Yours!"
+
+Storms waved his hand, and went on.
+
+"Though, mind me, all this must stop when we're married."
+
+Ruth had no disposition to laugh now. The very mention of Hurst had
+made a coward of her. Storms saw how pale she was, and came toward
+her.
+
+"There, now, give us a kiss, and make up. It's all settled between
+father and the old man, so just be conformable, and I'll say nothing
+about the young master."
+
+As the young man came toward her, with his arms extended, Ruth drew
+back, step by step, with such fright and loathing in her eyes that his
+temper rose again. With startling suddenness he gave a leap, and,
+flinging one arm around her, attempted to force her averted face to
+his.
+
+One sharp cry, one look, and Ruth fell to the floor, quivering like a
+shot bird.
+
+She had seen the door open, and caught one glimpse of her husband's
+face. Then a powerful blow followed, and Richard Storms went reeling
+across the kitchen, and struck with a crash against the opposite
+wall.
+
+Ruth remembered afterward, as one takes up the painful visions of a
+dream, the deadly venom of those eyes; the gray whiteness of that
+aquiline face; the specks of foam that flew from those half-open lips.
+She saw, too, the slow retreat during which those threatening features
+were turned upon her husband. Then all was blank--she had fainted
+away.
+
+For some moments it seemed as if the girl were dead, she lay so limp
+and helpless on her husband's bosom; but the burning words that rose
+from his lips, the kisses he rained down upon hers, brought a stir of
+life back to her heart. Awaking with a dim sense of danger, she clung
+to him, shivering and in tears.
+
+"Where is he? Oh, Walton! is he gone?"
+
+"Gone, the hound! Yes, darling, to his kennel."
+
+"Ah, how he frightened me!"
+
+"But how dare he enter this house?"
+
+"I cannot tell--only--only my father has not come home yet. Oh, I--I
+hate him. He frightens me. He threatens me."
+
+"Threatens you! When? How?"
+
+"Oh, Walton! he has seen us together. He will bring you into trouble."
+
+"Not easily."
+
+"Your father?"
+
+"Is not a man to listen to the gossip of his servants."
+
+Ruth drew a deep breath. Walton had concealed his real anxiety so
+well, that her own fears were calmed.
+
+"Come, come," he said; "we must not let this hind embitter the few
+minutes I can spend with you. Look up, love, and tell me that you are
+better."
+
+"Oh! I am; but he frightened me so."
+
+"And now?"
+
+Hurst folded the fair girl in his arms, and smoothed her bright hair
+with a caressing hand.
+
+"Now!" she answered, lifting her mouth, which had grown red again, and
+timidly returning his kisses. "Now I am safe, and I fear nothing. Oh,
+mercy! Look!"
+
+"What? Where?"
+
+"The window! That face at the window!"
+
+"It is your fancy, darling. I see nothing there."
+
+"But I saw it. Surely I did. His keen, wicked face. It was close to
+the glass."
+
+"There, there! It was only the ivy leaves glancing in the moonlight."
+
+"No, no! I saw it. He is waiting for you."
+
+"Let him wait. I shall not stir a step the sooner or later for that."
+
+Ruth began to tremble again. Her eyes were constantly turning toward
+the window. She scarcely heard the words of endearment with which
+Hurst strove to reassure her. All at once the old clock filled the
+house with its brazen warning. It was ten o'clock. The girl sprang to
+her feet.
+
+"It is time for my father to come. He must not find you here."
+
+Hurst took his hat, and glancing down at his dinner dress, remembered
+that he would be missed from the drawing-room. Once more he enfolded
+the girl in his arms, called her by the new endearing name that was so
+sweet to them both, and finally left her smiling through all her
+fears.
+
+Ruth stole to the little oriel window, and watched her husband as he
+turned from the moonlight and entered the shadows of the park. Then
+she went back to the kitchen and busied herself about the fire.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+AN ENCOUNTER.
+
+
+When Richard Storms left the gardener's cottage, he dashed like a wild
+beast into the densest thickets of the forest, and tore his way
+through toward his own home. It gave him a sort of tigerish pleasure
+to tear at the thickets with his fierce hands, and trample the forest
+turf beneath his iron-shod heels, for the rage within him was brutal
+in its thirst for destruction. All at once he stopped short, seemed to
+remember something and turned back, plunging along at a heavy but
+swift pace, now through the shadows, now in the moonlight, unconscious
+of the quiet beauty of either.
+
+It took him but a brief time to reach the cottage, around which he
+pondered a while, stealing in and out of the tangled vines which hung
+in thick draperies around the building. At last Ruth saw his face at
+the kitchen window, and gave a sharp cry that drove him away, more
+fiercely wrathful than ever, for he had seen the creature he
+worshipped after a rude fashion giving caresses to another, that he
+would have gone on his grovelling knees to have secured to himself.
+
+"Jessup promised my father that I should wed her, and it has come to
+this," he grumbled fiercely, as if tearing the words between his
+teeth. "On the night I had set aside to win an answer for myself, the
+young master hustles me out of the door like a dog, and takes the
+kennel himself. He thinks I am not man enough to bark back when he
+kicks me, does he? He shall see! He shall see! Bark! Nay, my fine
+fellow, it shall be biting this time. A growl and a snap isn't enough
+for kicks and blows."
+
+The wrath of this man was less fiery now, but it had taken a stern,
+solid strength, more dangerous than the first outburst of passion. He
+sought no particular path as he left the house, but stamped forward
+with heavy feet, as if he were trampling down something that he hated
+viciously, now and then gesticulating in the moonlight, till his very
+shadow seemed to be fighting its way along the turf.
+
+All at once he came upon another man, who had left the great chestnut
+avenue, and turned into a side path, which led to the gardener's
+passage. The two men stopped, and one spoke cheerfully.
+
+"Why, good-night, Dick. This is late to be out. Anything going wrong?"
+
+"Wrong!" said the other, hoarsely. "Yes, wrong enough to cost a man
+his life some day. Go up yonder, and ask your daughter Ruth what it
+is. She'll tell, no doubt--ask her!"
+
+Richard Storms, after flinging these words at his father's friend,
+attempted to push by him on the path; but Jessup stood resolutely in
+his way.
+
+"What is all this, my lad? Nay, now, you haven't been to the cottage
+while I was away, and frightened the girl about what we were talking
+of. I should take that unfriendly, Dick. Our Ruth is a bit dainty, and
+should have had time to think over such matters."
+
+"Dainty! I should think so. She looks high in her sweethearting; I
+must say that for her."
+
+"What is it you are saying of my daughter?" cried Jessup, doubling his
+great brown fist, unconsciously.
+
+"I say that a man like me has a chance of getting more kicks than
+kisses when he seeks her," answered Dick, with a sneer.
+
+"And serves him right, if he dared to ask such things of her mother's
+child," said Jessup, growing angry.
+
+"But what if he only asked, honest fashion, for an honest wife, as I
+did, and got kicks in return?"
+
+"Kicks! Why, man, who was there to give them, and I away?" questioned
+the gardener, astonished.
+
+"One who shall pay for it!" was the answer that came hissing through
+the young man's lips.
+
+"Of course, one don't give kicks and expect farthings back; but who
+has got up pluck to try this with you, Dick? He must be mad to dare
+it."
+
+"He is mad!" answered Storms, grinding his teeth. "Mad or not, no man
+but the master's son would have dared it."
+
+"The master's son! Are you drunk or crazy, Dick Storms?"
+
+"I almost think both. Who can tell?" muttered Dick. "But it's not with
+drink."
+
+"The master's son! but where--when?"
+
+"At your own house, where he has been more than once, when he thought
+sure to find Ruth alone."
+
+"Dick Storms, this is a lie."
+
+Dick burst into a hoarse laugh.
+
+"A lie, is it? Go up yonder, now. Walk quick, and you'll see whether
+it is the truth or not."
+
+Jessup rushed forward a step or two, then came back, as if ashamed of
+the action.
+
+"Nay, there is no need. I'll not help you belie my own child."
+
+"Belie her, is it? I say, Bill Jessup, not half an hour ago, I saw
+Ruth, your daughter, with her head on the young master's bosom, and
+her mouth red with his kisses. If you don't believe this, go and see
+for yourself."
+
+The florid face of William Jessup turned to marble in the moonlight,
+and a fierce, hot flame leaped to his eyes.
+
+"I will not walk a pace quicker, or be made to spy on my girl, by
+anything you can say, Dick; not if it were to save my own life; but I
+like you, lad--your father and I are fast friends. We meant that,
+by-and-by, you and Ruth should come together."
+
+Storms flung up his head with an insulting sneer.
+
+"Together! Not if every hair on her head was weighed down with
+sovereigns. I am an honest man, William Jessup, and will take an
+honest woman home to my mother, or take none."
+
+Before the words left his lips, Richard Storms received a blow that
+sent him with his face upward across the forest path; and William
+Jessup was walking with great strides toward his own cottage.
+
+It was seldom that Jessup gave way to such passion as had overcome him
+now, and he had not walked a dozen paces before he regretted it with
+considerable self-upbraiding.
+
+"The lad is jealous of every one that looks at my lass, and speaks out
+of range because she is a bit offish with him. Poor darling, she has
+no mother; and the thought of marrying frightens her. It troubles me,
+too. Sometimes I feel a spite toward the lad, for wanting to take her
+from me. It makes me restless to think of it. I wonder if any living
+man ever gave up his daughter to a sweetheart without a grip of pain
+at the heart? I think it wasn't so much the mad things he said that
+made my fist so unmanageable, for that come of too much drink, of
+course; but since he has begun to press this matter, I'm getting
+heartsore about losing the girl."
+
+With these thoughts in his mind, Jessup came within sight of his own
+home, and paused in front of it.
+
+How cool and pleasant it looked in the moonlight, with the shadowy
+vines flickering over it, and a golden light from the kitchen window
+brightening the dew upon them into crystal drops! The very
+tranquillity soothed the disturbed man before he entered the porch.
+
+"I wonder if it'll ever be the same again when she is gone," he said,
+speaking his thoughts aloud, and drawing the hand that had struck down
+young Storms across his eyes. "No, no; I must not expect that."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+FATHER AND DAUGHTER.
+
+
+Ruth did not come forth to receive her father. This was strange, for a
+trip to London, with these simple people, was a great event, and it
+seemed to Jessup as if he had been gone a year.
+
+When he entered the kitchen, Ruth was busy at the table moving the
+dishes with unsteady hands; but when he spoke, she came forward with
+breathless eagerness, and made herself very busy taking off his dusty
+things, which she shook, and folded with wonderful care.
+
+Spite of his utter disbelief in the coarse accusations made by Storms
+in the park, Jessup watched his daughter anxiously. It seemed to him
+that she looked paler than usual, and that all her movements were
+suspiciously restless. Besides this, he observed, with a sinking
+heart, that her eyes never once met his with their own frank smile.
+
+Could it be that there was some shadow of truth in what Storms had
+said? He would not believe it.
+
+"Come, father, the posset is ready. I have been keeping it warm."
+
+Ruth stood on the hearth then, with the antique silver posset-cup,
+which had been his grandmother's, in her hand. The firelight was full
+upon her, concealing the pallor of her face with its golden flicker.
+Surely there could be nothing wrong under that sweet look.
+
+The gardener gave a great sigh of relief as he accepted this thought,
+and his anger toward Dick Storms grew deep and bitter.
+
+"Come, lass," he said, with more than usual affection, "sit down here
+by my side. The posset is rare and good; while I eat it, you shall
+tell me of all that has been done since I went away."
+
+All that had been done since he went away! Would Ruth ever dare to
+tell her father that? The very thought sent up a rush of blood to her
+face.
+
+"Oh, father! there is little to be done when you are away. I did not
+even care to cook my own supper."
+
+"Ah! well, take it now, child," said the good man, pouring half his
+warm posset into an old china bowl, and pushing it toward her.
+
+"No, no, father, I am not hungry. I think the cooking of food takes
+away one's appetite."
+
+"Nay, eat. It is lonesome work, with no one to help me," said the
+father, who certainly had no cause to complain of his own appetite.
+Ruth stirred the posset languidly with her spoon, and strove to
+swallow a little; but the effort almost choked her. It might be fancy;
+but she could not help thinking that her father was furtively
+regarding her all the time, and the idea filled her with dismay.
+
+Something of the same feeling possessed her father. Inherent kindness
+made him peculiarly sensitive, and he did not know how to question his
+daughter of the things that disturbed him, without wounding her and
+himself too.
+
+In this perplexity, he ate with that ravenous haste which sometimes
+springs from an unconsciousness of what we are doing when under the
+pressure of great mental excitement. He was astonished when his spoon
+scraped on the bottom of that silver posset-cup. He sat for a moment
+embarrassed and uncertain how to begin. Where the feelings of his
+daughter were concerned, Jessup was a coward; to him she had been,
+from her very babyhood, a creature to worship and care for with a sort
+of tender reverence. So, with cowardice born of too much love, he
+thought to cheat himself, and bade her bring the little carpet-bag
+that had been his companion to London, and which he had dropped near
+the door.
+
+Ruth, glad of anything that promised to distract her mind from its
+anxieties, brought the bag, and stood over her father while he
+unlocked it.
+
+"See, child," he said, taking out a parcel done up in filmy paper, "I
+have brought some fill-falls from London, thinking my lass would be
+glad of them. Look, now!"
+
+Here Jessup unrolled a ribbon, which streamed half across the room, as
+he shook out its scarlet waves.
+
+"Isn't that something like, now?"
+
+"Oh, it is beautiful!" cried the girl, with true feminine delight. "My
+dear, dear father!"
+
+"I remembered--but no matter about that. My little Ruth is like a
+rose, and must have color like one. See what I have brought to go with
+the ribbon."
+
+"White muslin," cried Ruth, in an ecstasy of delight. "Fine enough for
+the Lady Rose. How beautifully the scarlet sash will loop it up! Oh,
+father, who told you how well these things would go together?"
+
+"I guessed it one day when the Lady Rose came here with a lot of stuff
+like that, puffed and looped with a ribbon bright as the field-poppies
+about her. You didn't know then, my lass, that your father felt like
+crying too, when he saw tears in his child's eyes, because she craved
+a fine dress and bonny colors for herself, and never thought to get
+it. There, now, you must get the best seamstress in the village to
+make it."
+
+"No, no! I will make it with my own hands. Oh, father! father! how
+good, how kind you are!"
+
+Dropping the sash and the muslin from her hold, Ruth threw her arms
+around Jessup's neck, and, bursting into tears, laid her head upon his
+shoulder.
+
+"So, so! That will never do," cried the kind-hearted man, smoothing
+the girl's hair with his great hand, tenderly, as if he were afraid
+his very fondness might hurt her. "If you cry so, I shall turn the
+key, and lock all the other things up."
+
+Ruth lifted her sweet face, all bedewed with penitent tears, and laid
+it close to the weather-beaten cheek of the man.
+
+"Oh, father! don't be so good to me! It breaks my heart!"
+
+Jessup took her face between his hands, and kissed it on the forehead,
+then pushed her pleasantly on one side, and thrust his hand into the
+bag again. This time it was drawn forth with a pretty pair of
+high-heeled boots, all stitched with silk, and circled about the
+ankles with a wreath of exquisite embroidery.
+
+"There, now, we will leave the rest till to-morrow," he said, closing
+the box with a mysterious look. "Only say that you are pleased with
+these."
+
+"Pleased! Oh, father, it is the dress of a lady!"
+
+"Well, even so. One day my Ruth may be next door to that," said
+Jessup, putting forth all his affectionate craft. "Farmer Storms is a
+warm man, and Dick is his only son. It is the lad's own right if he
+sometimes brings his gun and shoots our game--his father has an
+interest in it, you know. The master has no right over his farm, and
+birds swarm there."
+
+Jessup stopped suddenly, for Ruth stood before him white and still as
+marble, the ribbon which she had taken from the floor streaming from
+her hand in vivid contrast with the swift pallor that had settled upon
+her.
+
+"Lass! Ruth, I say! What has come over you?" cried out the gardener,
+in alarm. "What have I done to make you turn so white all in a
+minute?"
+
+"Done! Nothing, father--nothing!" gasped the girl.
+
+"But you are ill!"
+
+"Yes, a little; but nothing to--to trouble you so."
+
+Ruth stood a moment after this, with one hand on her temple, then she
+turned, with a show of strength, to her father.
+
+"What were you saying just now about farmer Storms, and--and his son?
+I don't think I quite understood, did I?"
+
+Jessup was now almost as white as his daughter. Her emotion kindled up
+a gleam of suspicion, which had hung about him in spite of himself,
+though he had left Richard Storms prostrate across the forest path for
+having inspired it.
+
+"Ruth, has not Dick Storms told you to-night that both he and his
+father are getting impatient to have you at the farm?" he questioned,
+in a low voice.
+
+"Dick--Dick Storms, father!"
+
+"I ask you, Ruth. Has he been here, and did he tell you?"
+
+"He was here, father," faltered the girl.
+
+"And he asked you?"
+
+"He asked me to be his wife," answered the girl, with a shudder.
+
+"Well!"
+
+"His wife at once; and you promised that he should not come until I
+was better prepared. Oh, father, it was cruel. He seemed to take it
+for granted that I must be whatever he wished."
+
+"That was ill-timed; but Dick has been kept back, and he is so fond of
+you, Ruth."
+
+"Fond of me? Of me? No, no! The thought is awful."
+
+"It was his loving impatience that broke forth at the wrong time.
+Nothing could be worse; but you were not very harsh with him, Ruth?"
+
+"I could not help it, father, he was so rude."
+
+"Hang the fellow! I hope he won't get over the buffet I gave him in
+one while. The fool should have known better than treat my daughter
+with so little ceremony. She is of a daintier sort than he often mates
+with. He deserves all he has gotten from her and from me."
+
+While these thoughts were troubling Jessup's mind, Ruth stood before
+him with tears swelling under her eyelids, till the long, black lashes
+were heavy with them. They touched the father's heart.
+
+"Don't fret, child. A few hasty words in answer to over rough wooing
+can easily be made up for. The young man was sorely put about; but I
+rated him soundly for coming here when I was away. He will think twice
+before he does it again."
+
+"He must never do it again. Never--never!" cried Ruth, desperately.
+"See to that, father. He never must."
+
+"Ruth!"
+
+"Oh, father, do not ask me ever to see this man again. I cannot--I
+cannot!"
+
+"Hush, child--hush! It is only a quarrel, which must not break the
+compact of a lifetime. Till now, you and Dick have always been good
+friends."
+
+"Have we? I don't know. Not lately, I'm sure; and we never, never can
+be anything like friends again."
+
+"Ruth!"
+
+The girl lifted her great wild eyes to her father, and dropped them
+again. She was too much terrified for tears now.
+
+"Ruth, was any person here to-night beyond Dick?"
+
+The girl did not answer. She seemed turning to stone. Her silence
+irritated the poor man, who stood watching like a criminal for her
+reply. He spoke more sharply.
+
+"Did you hear me, Ruth?"
+
+"Yes, I hear."
+
+"I asked if any one was here besides Dick?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Jessup could hardly hear this little word as it dropped painfully from
+those white lips; but he understood it; and spoke again.
+
+"Who was it, Ruth?"
+
+"Young Mr. Hurst."
+
+"He was here, then. What brought him?"
+
+"He came--he came--"
+
+"Well!"
+
+"He did not tell me why he came, father. It was all too sudden; and he
+was very angry."
+
+"Too sudden? Angry? How?"
+
+"Dick Storms frightened me so, and Mr. Hurst saw it, just as he came
+in. I could have struck him myself, father!" cried the girl, and her
+pale face flamed up with a remembrance of the indignity offered her.
+
+Jessup clenched his fist.
+
+"Why, what did the young man do?"
+
+"He would not believe that his offer was hateful to me, and--and acted
+as if I had said yes."
+
+"I understand. The idiot! But he must have been drinking, Ruth."
+
+"I don't know, and I only hope you will never let him come here
+again."
+
+"But he will be sorry, Ruth. You must not be too hard on the young
+fellow."
+
+"Hard upon him? Oh, father!"
+
+"He has had a tough lesson. But young Hurst--what did he do?"
+
+"I can hardly tell you, it was so sudden and violent. All in a minute
+Dick was hurled against the wall, and through the door. Then there was
+a struggle, deep, hoarse words, and Dick was gone."
+
+"Was that all?"
+
+"Yes, all that passed between Mr. Hurst and Dick. There was no time
+for talking."
+
+"And after that?"
+
+"I don't know what Dick did."
+
+"But Mr. Hurst?"
+
+"He--he stayed a while. I was so frightened, so--"
+
+"Ah, he stayed a while. That was kind."
+
+"Very kind, father!"
+
+"Ruth," said the gardener, struggling with himself to speak firmly,
+and yet with kindness, "there was something more. After Dick left, or
+before that, did Mr. Hurst--that is, were you more forgiving to him
+than you were to Storms?"
+
+"I--I do not understand, father."
+
+She does understand, thought Jessup, turning his eyes away from her
+burning face, heart-sick with apprehension. Then he nerved himself,
+and spoke again.
+
+"Ruth, I met Dick in the park, and he made a strange charge against
+you."
+
+"Against me!"
+
+"He says that insults greater than he would have dared to offer, but
+for which he was kicked from my door, were forgiven to young Mr.
+Hurst. Nay, that you encouraged them."
+
+"And you believed this, father?" questioned the girl, turning her eyes
+full upon those that were searching her face with such questioning
+anxiety.
+
+"No, Ruth, I did not want to believe him; but how happened it that the
+young master came here so late at night?"
+
+"Oh, father! Why do you question me so sharply?"
+
+The panic that whitened Ruth's face, the terror that shook her voice,
+gave force to the suspicion that poor man had been trying so hard to
+quench. It stung him like a serpent now, and he started up,
+exclaiming:
+
+"With one or the other, there is an account to be settled before I
+sleep."
+
+William Jessup seized his cap and went out into the park, leaving Ruth
+breathless with astonishment. She stole to the window, and looked
+after him, seized with uncontrollable dread. How long she sat there
+Ruth could never tell; but after a while, the stillness of the night
+was broken by the sharp report of a gun.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+THE TWO THAT LOVED HIM.
+
+
+Across one of the moonlit paths of the park lay the form of a man,
+with his face turned upward, white and still as the moonbeams that
+fell upon it. A little way farther on, where the great boughs of a
+cedar of Lebanon flung mighty shadows on the forest sward, another
+figure lay, scarcely perceptible in the darkness, of which it seemed
+only a denser part. Between the two, some rays of light struck
+obliquely on the lock of a gun, which was half buried in dewy
+fern-leaves.
+
+One sharp crack of that rifle had rung through the stillness of the
+night. Two men had fallen, and then the same sweet, calm repose
+settled on the park. But it was only for a minute.
+
+Scarcely had the sound reached the gardener's cottage, when the door
+flew open, and dashing out through the porch came a young girl, white
+with fear, and wild with a terrible desire to know the worst. She had
+given one look behind the entrance-door as she fled through it, and
+saw that the gun which Richard Storms had left there was gone. She had
+seen it since he went, and its absence turned her fears to a panic.
+
+Through a window of the drawing-room, up at "Norston's Rest," another
+figure rushed in wild haste. She ran blindly against one of the great
+marble vases on the terrace, and shook the sweet masses of dew-laden
+foliage till they rained a storm of drops upon her bare arms and soft
+floating garments.
+
+For a moment Lady Rose, for it was she, leaned against the marble,
+stunned and bewildered. The shot she had heard in the depths of the
+park had pierced her heart with a terrible fear.
+
+Then she knew that, for a time, the music within had ceased, and that
+the company would be swarming that way, to irritate her by questions
+that would be a cruel annoyance while the sound of that shot was
+ringing in her ears.
+
+Swift as lightning, wild as a night-hawk, the girl darted away from
+the vase, leaving a handful of gossamer lace among the thorns of the
+roses, and fled down the steps. She took no path, but, guided by that
+one sound, dashed through the flower-beds, heedless that her satin
+boots sunk into the moist mould, wetting her feet at every step;
+heedless that her cloud-like dress trailed over grass and ferns,
+gathering up dew like rain; heedless of everything but that one
+fearful thought--some one was killed! Was it Walton Hurst?
+
+Lady Rose was in the woods, rushing forward blindly, but jealous
+distrust had taught her the way to the cottage, and she went in that
+direction straight as an arrow from the bow, and wild as the bird it
+strikes. Coming out from the shadow of some great spreading cedar
+trees, she saw lying there in the path a man--a white, still face--his
+face.
+
+It seemed to her that the shriek which tore her heart rang fearfully
+through the woods, but it had died on her lips, and gave forth no
+sound, only freezing them to ice as she crept toward the prostrate
+man, and laid her face to his.
+
+"Oh, Walton! Oh, my beloved, speak to me! Only breathe once, that I
+may hear. Move only a little. Stir your hand. Don't--don't let the
+moonlight look into your eyes so! Walton, Walton!"
+
+She laid her cold, white hand over the wide-open eyes of the man as he
+lay there, so stiff and ghastly, in the moonlight. She turned his head
+aside, and hid those eyes in her bosom, in which the ice seemed to
+melt and cast off tears. She looked around for help, yet was afraid
+that some one might come and rob her. She had found him; he was there
+in her arms. If one life could save another, she would save him. Was
+she not armed with the mightiest of all earthly power--great human
+love?
+
+Wild, half-frightened by the impulse that was upon her, the girl
+looked to the right and left as if she feared the very moonlight would
+scoff at her. Then, with timid hesitation, her lips sought the white
+mouth of the prostrate man, but her breath was checked with a
+shrinking sob. The cold touch terrified her.
+
+Was he dead?
+
+No, no! She would not believe that. There was no sign of violence upon
+his face; a still whiteness, like death, a fixed look in the open
+eyes; but the moisture that lay around him was only dew. She bathed
+her hand in it and held the trembling fingers up to the light, to make
+sure of that; and with the conviction came a great sob of relief,
+which broke into a wild, glad cry, for a flicker of shade seemed to
+tremble over that face, and the eyes slowly closed.
+
+"Oh, my God be thanked! he is alive! My darling! Oh, my darling!"
+
+"Hush!" cried another voice, at her side.
+
+A shadow had fallen athwart the kneeling girl, and another face, more
+wildly pale, more keenly disturbed with anguish, looked down upon the
+prostrate man, and the young creature who crouched and trembled by his
+side.
+
+"Look up, woman, and let me see your face," said Ruth Jessup, in a
+voice that scarcely rose above a whisper, though it was strong in
+command.
+
+Lady Rose drew herself up, and lifted her piteous face as if appealing
+for compassion.
+
+"You!" exclaimed Ruth.
+
+"Yes, Ruth Jessup, it is I, Lady Rose. We will not be angry with each
+other, now that he is dead."
+
+"Dead!" repeated Ruth, "and you the first by his side? Dead? Oh, my
+God! my God! Has our sin blasted us both?"
+
+Down upon the earth this poor girl sunk, wringing her hands in an
+agony of distress. Still Lady Rose looked at her with touching appeal.
+She had not comprehended the full force of Ruth's speech, though the
+words rested in her brain long after.
+
+"Lay your hand on his heart," she said. "I--I dare not."
+
+Ruth smiled a wan smile, colder than tears; still there was a faint
+gleam of triumph in it.
+
+"No!" she said. "You should not dare."
+
+Then the girl thrust her trembling hand down to the bosom her head had
+so lately rested upon, and leaning forward, held her breath, while
+Lady Rose eagerly searched her features in the moonlight.
+
+"Is--is there nothing?" she whispered.
+
+Ruth could not answer. Her hand shook so fearfully, that its sense of
+touch was overwhelmed.
+
+"Oh, speak to me!"
+
+"Hush! I shake so! I shake so!"
+
+Lady Rose bent her head and waited. At last a deep, long breath broke
+from Ruth, and a flash of fire shot from her eyes.
+
+"Give me your hand; I dare not trust myself," she whispered.
+
+Seizing the hand which lay helplessly in Lady Rose's lap, she pressed
+it over the heart her own had been searching, and fixed her eager eyes
+on the lady's face for an answer.
+
+As a faint fire kindles slowly, that fair face brightened till it
+shone like a lily in the moonlight. As Ruth looked, she saw a scarcely
+perceptible smile stealing over it. Then the lips parted, and a heavy
+sigh broke through.
+
+"Is it life?" whispered Ruth. "Tell me, is it life?"
+
+Lady Rose withdrew her hand.
+
+"Yes, faint. Oh! so faint, but life."
+
+Then both these girls broke into a swift passion of tears, and clung
+together, uttering soft, broken words of thanksgiving. Ruth was the
+first to start from this sweet trance of gratitude.
+
+"What can we do? He must be carried to the house. Ho, father! father!"
+
+She ran up and down the path, crying out wildly, but no answer came.
+The stillness struck her with new dread. Where was her father, that he
+could not hear her cries? Who had done this thing! Could it be he?
+
+"No, no!--a thousand times, no! But then--"
+
+She went back to Lady Rose, whose hand had nestled back to that poor,
+struggling heart.
+
+"Couldn't we carry him, you and I? We must have help," Ruth said, a
+little sharply, for the position of the lady stung her.
+
+The question surprised Lady Rose; for never in her life had she been
+called upon to make an exertion. But she started to her feet and
+flung back the draperies from her arms.
+
+"Yes, he might die here. Let us save him. 'The Rest' is not so far
+off."
+
+"'The Rest?' No, no; our cottage is nearest. He might die before we
+could get him to 'The Rest.' My father will be there. Oh, I am sure my
+father will be there!"
+
+Ruth spoke eagerly, as if some one had disputed her.
+
+"He will be coming this way," she added, "and so help us. Come, come,
+let us try!"
+
+Before the two girls could test their strength, footsteps were heard
+coming along the path.
+
+"It is my father. Oh, now he can be carried to the cottage in safety."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+BOTH HUSBAND AND FATHER.
+
+
+The two girls stood up and listened. The footsteps came forward
+swiftly, and with a light touch of the ground; too light, Ruth felt,
+with a sinking heart, for the heavy tread of her father. She had not
+the courage to cry out now. It seemed as if some one were coming to
+take that precious charge from her forever. This fear broke into a
+faint exclamation when she saw Sir Noel Hurst coming toward them more
+swiftly than she had ever seen him walk before. Without uttering a
+word, he came up to where the young man was lying, and bent over him
+in dead silence, as if unconscious that any other human being was
+near.
+
+"He is not dead! Oh, Sir Noel, his heart beats. Don't--don't look so!
+He is not dead!"
+
+"Lady Rose," said the baronet, "you heard--"
+
+The lady shrank back, and faltered out--
+
+"Yes; I heard a shot, and it frightened me."
+
+The baronet made no answer, but bent over his son. The faint signs of
+life that Lady Rose had discovered were imperceptible to him. But
+habitual self-command kept his anguish down, and in a low, grave
+voice, he bade Ruth, whose presence he had not otherwise noticed, run
+to the mansion, and call help at once.
+
+Ruth obeyed. Her nearest path led under the great cedar trees, where
+the blackest shadows fell, and she darted that way with a swift step
+that soon carried her into the darkness. But all at once came a cry
+out from the gloom, so sharp, so full of agony, that Sir Noel started
+up, and turned to learn the cause.
+
+It came in an instant, out from the blackness of the cedars; for there
+Ruth appeared on the edge of the moonlight, pallid, dumb, shivering,
+with her face half averted, waving her hand back to the shadow.
+
+"What is it? What has frightened you so?" he said.
+
+"Look! look! I cannot see his face; but I know--I know!" she gasped,
+retreating into the darkness.
+
+Sir Noel followed her, and there, lying as it seemed on a pall flung
+downward by the huge trees, lay the body of a man perfectly
+motionless.
+
+"My father! Oh, my poor father!" cried the girl, falling down among
+the shadows, as if she sought to engulf herself in mourning.
+
+"Be quiet, child. It may not be your father," said the baronet, still
+controlling himself into comparative calmness.
+
+Ruth arose in the darkness, and crept toward the body. Her hand
+touched the hard, open palm that lay upon the moss where it had
+fallen. She knew the touch, and clung to it, sobbing piteously.
+
+"Let me go and call help," said Lady Rose, coming toward the cedars.
+
+"No," answered Sir Noel. "That must not be. This is no place for Lady
+Rose Hubert. The poor girl yonder has lost all her strength; it is her
+father, I greatly fear. Stay by him until you see lights, or know that
+help is coming. Then retire to the gardener's cottage. We must have no
+careless tongues busy with your name, Lady Rose."
+
+Sir Noel strove to speak with calmness; but a shiver ran through his
+voice. He broke off abruptly, and, turning down the nearest path,
+walked toward "The Rest."
+
+Meantime, there was bitter sorrow under the great cedar trees; low,
+pitiful moaning, and the murmurs of a young creature, smitten to the
+heart with a consciousness that the awful scene, with its train of
+consequences, had been her own work. She crept close to the man,
+afraid to touch him with her guilty fingers, but, urged on by a faint
+hope that he was not quite dead, she felt, with horror, that there was
+something heavier than dew on the bed of moss where he lay, and that
+for every drop of her father's blood she was responsible. Still she
+crept close to him, and at last laid both hands upon his shoulder.
+There was a vague motion under her hands, as if a wince of pain made
+the flesh quiver.
+
+"Oh, if some one would help me. What can I do! What can I do!" she
+moaned, striving to pierce the darkness with her eyes. "Oh, father!
+father!"
+
+"Ruth!"
+
+The sound of that name was not louder than a breath of summer wind;
+but the girl heard it, and fell upon her face, prostrated by a great
+flood of thankfulness. She had not killed him; he was alive. He had
+spoken her name.
+
+Directly the sound of voices swept that way, and the great cedar trees
+were reddened with a glare of torches, and a streaming light from
+lanterns. Then Lady Rose, who had been sitting upon the ground with
+Walton Hurst's head resting on her lap, bent down softly, kissed the
+white forehead, and stole away from all traces of light. Sir Noel had
+been thoughtful for her. She could not have borne that the eyes of
+those menial helpers, or their masters either, should see her
+ministering to a man who, perhaps, would hold her care, as he might
+her love, in careless indifference.
+
+Yes, Sir Noel was right. She must not be found there.
+
+Down through the trees she went, looking wistfully back at the figure
+left alone in the moonlight, tempted to return and brave everything,
+rather than leave him alone. But the torches came up fast and redly,
+hushed voices broke the stillness that had seemed so deathlike, and,
+envying that other girl, who was permitted to remain, the lady stole
+toward the cottage, and sinking down upon the porch, listened to the
+far-off tumult with a dull pain of the heart which death itself could
+hardly have intensified.
+
+It was well that Lady Rose had fled from the path, along which some
+thirty men were coming--gentlemen in evening dress, gamekeepers and
+grooms, all moving under the torch-light, like a funeral procession.
+
+With the tenderness of women, and the strength of men, they lifted
+Walton Hurst from the ground, and bore him toward the house. Ruth rose
+up in the darkness of the cedars, and saw him drifting away from her,
+with the red light of the torches streaming over the whiteness of his
+face, and then fell down by her father, moaning piteously.
+
+By-and-by the torch-lights flashed and flamed under the cedars,
+lighting up their great, drooping branches, like a tent under which a
+wounded or perchance dead man was lying prone upon his back, with his
+strong arms flung out, and a slow ripple of blood flowing from his
+chest.
+
+The torch-bearers took little heed of the poor girl, who had crept so
+close to her father that her garments were red with his blood, but
+lifted the body up with less reverential care than had marked the
+removal of the young master, but still not unkindly, and bore it away
+toward the house. Ruth arose, worn out with anguish, and followed in
+silence, wondering that she was alive to bear all this sorrow.
+
+It seemed to Lady Rose that hours and hours had passed since she had
+sheltered her misery in that low porch, and this was true, if time can
+be measured by feeling. It was even a relief when she saw that little
+group of menials bearing the form of the gardener along
+the forest-path, which was slowly reddened by lanterns and
+half-extinguished torches. In the midst of this weird scene came Ruth
+Jessup, holding fast to her father's hand, with her pallid face bowed
+down, creeping, as it were, along the way, as if all life had been
+smitten from her.
+
+A sort of painful pity seized upon Lady Rose, as she saw this
+procession bearing down upon the cottage. She could not look upon
+that poor girl without a sensation of shrinking dislike. Had not Hurst
+been on his way to her when he met with this evil fate? Had he not
+almost fled from her own presence to visit this beautiful rustic,
+whose desolation seemed so complete? Yes, she pitied the poor young
+thing; what woman could help it? But, underlying the pity, was a
+feeling of subdued triumph, that only one wounded man was coming that
+way.
+
+All at once the girl started from her seat.
+
+"They must not find me," she thought. "Sir Noel did not think of this
+when he bade me seek shelter here. I will go! I will go!"
+
+
+
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH.
+
+
+Lady Rose watched the master and servant as they went into the hall;
+then, gliding through one of the open windows, stole into the library,
+where she walked up and down, up and down, until it seemed as if she
+had travelled leagues on leagues, but could not stop.
+
+The baronet came at last, looking calmer and more self-possessed, but
+still very pale.
+
+Lady Rose came up to him, looking the question she could not ask.
+
+"It is not death as yet," he said.
+
+"But, tell me--oh! tell me, is there danger?"
+
+"Great danger, the doctors think; all the more because they can find
+no wound."
+
+"No wound! But that shot! that shot!"
+
+The baronet shook his head.
+
+"It is all a mystery as yet."
+
+"But if he is not wounded?"
+
+"There has been a fall--a blow; something which threatens congestion
+of the brain."
+
+"But if the other, Jessup, is shot. I heard the report from the
+terrace."
+
+"And I from the woods. But let us say nothing of this--think nothing,
+if we can help it," said the baronet.
+
+"If we can help it! Ah! me."
+
+"The surgeons have gone over to Jessup's cottage. He may be able to
+speak. I will go with them."
+
+Lady Rose looked up eagerly.
+
+"And he?"
+
+"Must be kept perfectly quiet. My man is with him."
+
+"Have you seen him? Is it certain that he breathes?"
+
+"I have seen him only for a moment. He was breathing, but very
+feebly," answered the baronet.
+
+"Ah! that poor white face! I shall never forget it," answered Rose,
+covering her eyes with both hands. "His eyes so wide open! Oh, how
+they frightened me!"
+
+"They are closed now, and he lies there quiet as a child. There is
+some burden upon the brain."
+
+"But the doctors, how can they leave him? He might die."
+
+"It is only long enough to visit Jessup. He is wounded badly, the
+people say who took him home."
+
+"Yes, I know. I heard them speaking of blood on the grass as they came
+up. Of--of course, the doctors must go to him--and you; it is but
+right."
+
+A strange resolve had suddenly flashed into her thoughts.
+
+"You will go to your room now, Lady Rose. It is long after midnight,"
+said the baronet, as he opened a door leading to the hall.
+
+"No, Sir Noel; I could not sleep; I could not breathe under all this
+uncertainty. You will find me here, with your news, good or bad. It
+would be like shutting myself in a prison cell if I went to my room
+now."
+
+"As you wish. I will not be gone long," answered the baronet.
+
+Lady Rose stood in the middle of the library, listening, until Sir
+Noel's footsteps died out on the terrace; then she stole into the hall
+and mounted the stairs, holding her breath as she went.
+
+In her dressing-room she found a woman leaning back in an easy-chair,
+who had fallen into a restless sleep.
+
+"Hipple, Hipple!" said Lady Rose, under her breath. "Do wake up."
+
+The thin little shadow of a woman opened two black eyes, and thrust up
+her shoulders with a sleepy protest.
+
+"Mrs. Hipple, Hipple! always Mrs. Hipple, sleeping or waking. Well,
+what is it now, my lady?"
+
+"Get up, that is a good soul. I know that you have been kept out of
+your bed, cruelly, but I want you so much."
+
+"Well, well, lady-bird, what is it all about? Of course, you want me.
+That is what you always were doing as a child. Oh, well, one is
+something older now, and that makes a difference."
+
+While the sleepy woman was uttering this half-protest, Lady Rose was
+arranging the cap, that had been crushed on one side as she slept, and
+gently shaking off the sleep which threatened to renew itself in soft
+grumbles.
+
+"There, now, everything is set to rights, and you look wide awake."
+
+"Of course, I am wide awake; I, who never sleep, though you dance away
+the hours till morning," answered the little lady, testily.
+
+"But I have not been dancing to-night, Hipple; far from it. Something
+dreadful has happened."
+
+"Dreadful! Lady Rose, do speak out. My heart is rising into my mouth."
+
+"Mr. Walton Hurst has been hurt."
+
+"Hurt! My poor, dear child. Oh, now I know why you came to me gasping
+for breath."
+
+"He is very ill--quite insensible, in his room over yonder, with no
+one to take care of him but Sir Noel's man."
+
+"Who knows nothing."
+
+"Who might let him die, you know, while the doctors are away. I am so
+troubled about it."
+
+"Well, what shall I do? Of course Webb isn't to be trusted."
+
+"Just step in and offer to take his place, while he goes down to the
+gardener's cottage and inquires about Jessup, who is hurt also."
+
+"Jessup hurt! What right had he to take the same night of the young
+gentleman's misfortune, for his poor trouble, I should like to know,"
+exclaimed the old lady, resentfully. "It is taking a great liberty, I
+can tell him."
+
+"Still, he is hurt, and I want to hear about it, if you can only get
+Webb to go."
+
+"Can! He shall!"
+
+"He will trust Mr. Hurst with you!"
+
+"Of course. Who doubts that?"
+
+"And then--"
+
+Lady Rose faltered, and a faint streak of carmine shot across her
+forehead.
+
+"Well, what then, lady-bird? something chokes in your throat. What am
+I to do then?"
+
+"Perhaps, you would let me come in, just for a moment."
+
+"Oh-h! But don't--don't. I cannot see your pretty lip quivering so!
+There--there. I understand it all now!"
+
+"And you will?"
+
+"When did Hipple ever say no? Is she likely to begin now, when rain is
+getting under those eyelids? Sit down a minute, and take comfort.
+Things must be amiss indeed if the old woman can't set them right."
+
+Gently forcing her young mistress into the easy-chair, the faithful
+old companion left the room, swift as a bird, and noiseless as a
+mouse. Directly she came back, and beckoned with her finger through
+the open door.
+
+"He has gone. I frightened him about his master. Come!"
+
+Lady Rose was at the door in an instant. The next she stood in the
+midst of a large chamber, in the centre of which was a huge
+high-posted bedstead of carved ebony, shrouded by a torrent of lace
+and damask, on which the shaded light fell like the glow of rubies.
+Shrinking behind these curtains, which were drawn back at the head in
+gorgeous masses, Lady Rose looked timidly upon the form that lay
+prostrate there, afraid of the death signs which might be written upon
+it.
+
+Walton Hurst was deadly pale yet; but the locked features had relaxed
+a little, the limbs were outlined less rigidly under the snow-white
+counterpane than they had been upon the forest path. There was a faint
+stir of breath about the chest also; but for this the intense
+stillness in which he lay would have been horrible.
+
+As she gazed, holding her own breath that she might listen for his,
+her hand was touched softly by lips that seemed to be whispering a
+prayer or blessing, and Mrs. Hipple stole from the room.
+
+Lady Rose was alone with the man she loved better than anything on
+earth, and the solitude made her tremble, as if she were committing a
+crime. She dared not move, or scarcely breathe. What if he were to
+open his eyes and discover her! Then she could only wish to die of the
+shame she had brought upon herself.
+
+Still the girl was fascinated. The way of retreat was before her, but
+she would not take it. Perhaps this was the only time she might hope
+to see him upon earth. Was she to cast this precious opportunity away?
+He stirred a little. It was nothing but a faint shiver of the limbs;
+but that was enough to startle her. Then a shadow seemed to flit
+across his features. His eyes opened, and were fixed upon her with a
+blank, unquestioning look.
+
+Lady Rose could not help the words that sprang to her lips.
+
+"Are you better? Ah, tell me that you are better."
+
+A faint gleam of intelligence came into the eyes she no longer sought
+to evade, and the lips moved a little, as if something heavier than a
+breath were disturbing them.
+
+"Can you speak? Do you know me?"
+
+Some unintelligible words were broken on the invalid's lips.
+
+"Do you want anything?"
+
+"No. I--I--"
+
+Here the man's feeble speech broke off, and his head moved restlessly
+on the pillow. Lady Rose leaned over him. Her soul was craving one
+word of recognition.
+
+"Try and say if you know me," she whispered, too eager for any thought
+of the fear that had possessed her.
+
+"Oh, yes, I know. Only the name. I never mention that--never!"
+
+"But why? Is it hateful to you?"
+
+"Hateful! No, no! Don't you know that?"
+
+Rose could not resist the temptation, but touched his forehead with
+her hand. A ghostly little smile crept over his mouth, which was
+half-concealed by a wave of the silken beard that had drifted across
+it. She longed to know if it was a smile or a tremor of light from the
+shaded lamp, and softly smoothed the beard away. As she did so, a
+faint kiss was left upon her hand. She drew it back with a sob of
+delight so exquisite that it made her feel faint.
+
+"He knows me. With his poor, feeble breath he has kissed my hand."
+This thought was like rare old wine to the girl; she felt its glow in
+every pulse of her being. With that precious kiss on her palm, she
+drew back among the curtains, and gathered it into her heart, pressing
+her lips where his had been, as children hide away to eat their stolen
+fruit.
+
+Then she grew ashamed of her own happiness, and came into sight again.
+Hurst was apparently asleep then. His eyes were closed; but low
+murmurs broke from him, now and then, as if he were toiling through
+some dream. The girl bent her head to listen. The hunger of a loving
+heart made her insatiable.
+
+"Here--here with me! Then all is well! Dreams haunt one: but what are
+dreams? Her hand was on my mouth. I felt her breath. No harm has come
+to her. Yet, and yet--dreams all!"
+
+Here the young man fell into deeper unconsciousness, and his murmurs
+ceased almost entirely.
+
+Some minutes passed, and then the door was swiftly opened, and Mrs.
+Hipple glided through.
+
+"My lady! my lady! They are here, mounting the terrace."
+
+Lady Rose heard the loud whisper, and fled from the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+A FATHER'S MISGIVING.
+
+
+A figure crouched low in the darkness of that narrow passage,
+listening at the door, and shrinking with shudders when a groan broke
+through the ill-fitted panels. There was some confusion in the room
+beyond, voices, and guarded footsteps, quick orders given, then dull,
+dead silence, and a sharp scream of agony.
+
+"That was his cry! They are killing him! they are killing him!" cried
+that poor girl, springing to her feet.
+
+Ruth opened the door in rash haste, and her pale face looked in.
+
+"Back! Go back, child!"
+
+It was the impatient voice and white hand of the surgeon that warned
+Ruth Jessup back; and she shrunk into the darkness again, appalled by
+what she had seen--her father's gray hair, scattered on the pillow,
+his face writhing, and his eyes hot and wild with anguish.
+
+It was a terrible picture, but while it wrung her heart, there was
+hope in the agony it brought. Anything was better than the deathly
+stillness that had terrified her under the cedars. It was something
+that her father could feel pain.
+
+"Now," said the kind surgeon, looking through the door, "you can come
+in. The bullet is extracted."
+
+In his white palm lay a bit of bent lead, which he looked upon
+lovingly, for it was a proof of his own professional skill; but Ruth
+turned from it with a shiver, and creeping up to her father's bed,
+knelt down by it, holding back her tears, and burying her face in the
+bed-clothes, afraid to meet the wild eyes turned upon her.
+
+The wounded man moved his hand a little toward her. She took it in her
+own timid clasp, and laid her wet cheek upon it in penitent humility.
+
+"Oh, father!"
+
+The hard fingers stirred in her grasp.
+
+"Did it hurt you so? Has it almost killed you?"
+
+The old man turned a little and bent his eyes upon her.
+
+"It isn't _that_ hurt," he struggled to say. "Not that."
+
+Ruth began to tremble. She understood him.
+
+"Oh, father!" she faltered, "who did it? How could you have been
+hurt?"
+
+A stern glance shot from the sick man's eye.
+
+"You! oh, you!"
+
+"Oh, father! I did not know. How could I?"
+
+The old man drew away his hand, and shook off the tears she had left
+upon it, with more strength than he seemed to possess.
+
+"Hush!" he said. "You trouble me."
+
+Ruth shrunk away, and once more rested her head on the quilt, that was
+soon wet with her tears. After a little she crept close to him again,
+and timidly touched his hand.
+
+"Father!"
+
+"Poor child! Poor, foolish child!"
+
+"Father, forgive me!"
+
+The sick man's face quivered all over, and, spite of an effort to
+restrain it, his poor hand rose tremblingly, and fell on that bowed
+head.
+
+"Oh, my child! if we had both died before this thing happened."
+
+"I wish we had. Oh, how I wish we had!"
+
+"It was my fault," murmured the sick man.
+
+"No, no! It was mine. I am to blame, I alone."
+
+"I might have known it; poor, lost lamb, I might have known it."
+
+Ruth lifted her head suddenly.
+
+"Lost lamb! Oh, father! what do these words mean?"
+
+The gardener shook his head faintly, closed his eyes, and two great
+tears rolled from under the lids.
+
+"Oh! tell me--tell me! I--I cannot bear it, father!"
+
+That moment the surgeons, who had gone out for consultation, came back
+and rather sternly reprimanded Ruth for talking with their patient.
+
+The girl rose obediently, and turned away from the bed. The surgeons
+saw that a scarlet heat had driven away the pallor of her countenance,
+but took no heed of that. She had evidently agitated their patient,
+and this was sufficient excuse for some degree of severity, so she
+went forth, relieved of her former awful dread, but wounded with new
+anxieties.
+
+Two days followed of intense suffering to that wounded man and the
+broken-hearted girl. Fever and delirium set in with him, terror and
+dread with her. The power of reason had come out of that great shock.
+In trembling and awe she had asked herself questions.
+
+Who had fired that murderous shot? How had the gun disappeared from
+behind the passage door, where Richard Storms had surely left it? Had
+there been a quarrel between the father she loved and the husband she
+adored? If so, which was the aggressor?
+
+The poor girl remembered with dread the questions with which her
+father had startled her so that night, the sharp gleam of his usually
+kind eyes, and the set firmness of his mouth, while he waited for her
+answer. Did he guess at the deception she had practised, or were his
+suspicions such as made the blood burn in her veins?
+
+With these thoughts harassing her mind, the young creature watched
+over that sick man until her own strength began to droop. In his
+delirium, he had talked wildly, and uttered at random many a broken
+fancy that cut her to the soul; but even in his helpless state there
+had seemed to be an undercurrent of caution curbing his tongue. He
+raved of the man who had shot him, but mentioned no names; spoke of
+his daughter with hushed tenderness, but still with a sort of reserve,
+as if he were keeping some painful secret back in his heart. Sometimes
+he recognized her, and then his eyes, lurid with fever, would fill
+with hot tears.
+
+After a while this fever of the brain passed off, and left the strong
+man weak as a child. It seemed as if he had lost all force, even for
+suffering; but Ruth felt that some painful thing, that he never spoke
+of or hinted at, haunted him. He was strangely wakeful, and at times
+she felt his great eyes looking out at her from their deepening
+caverns, with an expression that made her heart sink.
+
+One day he spoke to her with a suddenness that made her breath stand
+still.
+
+"Ruth!"
+
+"Father, did you speak to me?"
+
+"Where is he?"
+
+"Who, father?"
+
+"You know. Is he safe out of the way?"
+
+"Do you mean--"
+
+The girl broke off. She could not utter Walton Hurst's name. The sick
+man also seemed to shrink from it.
+
+"Is he safe?"
+
+"Oh, father! he was hurt like yourself."
+
+"Hurt!--he? I am speaking of Walton Hurst, girl."
+
+The man spoke out plainly now, and a wild questioning look came into
+his eyes.
+
+"Oh, father! he was found, like yourself, lying on the ground,
+senseless. We thought that he was dead."
+
+"Lying on the ground! Who hurt him? Not I--not I!"
+
+Ruth flung herself on her knees by the bed; a flush of coming tears
+rushed over her face.
+
+"Oh, father! oh, thank God! father, dear father!"
+
+"Did you think that?" whispered the sick man, overwhelmed by this
+swift outburst of feeling.
+
+"I did not know--I could not tell. It was all so strange, so terrible!
+Oh, father, I have been so troubled!"
+
+The sick man looked at her earnestly.
+
+"Ruth!"
+
+"Yes, father!"
+
+"Was he shot like me?"
+
+"I do not know. They say not. Some terrible blow on the head, but no
+blood."
+
+"A blow on the head! But how? As God is my witness, I struck no one."
+
+Ruth fell to kissing that large, helpless hand, as if some awful stain
+had just been removed from it. In all her father's sickness she had
+never touched him with her sweet lips till now. Then all at once she
+drew back as if an arrow had struck her. It was something keener than
+that--one of the thoughts that kill as they strike. After a struggle
+for breath, she spoke.
+
+"But who? Oh, father, you were shot. Was it--was it--"
+
+"Hush, child! Not a word! I--I will not hear a word. Never let that
+question pass your lips again so long as you live. I charge you--I
+charge you!"
+
+The sick man fell back exhausted, and gasping for breath. The question
+put so naturally by his daughter seemed to have given him a dangerous
+shock.
+
+"But how is he now?"
+
+The question was asked in a hoarse whisper, and more by the bright
+eyes than those trembling lips.
+
+"I--I have not dared to ask. I--I could not leave you here alone,"
+answered Ruth, with a fitful quiver of the lips.
+
+"How long is it?"
+
+"Two days, father."
+
+"Two days, and no news of him."
+
+"They would not keep it from us if he had been worse," said Ruth, who
+had listened with sickening dread to every footstep that approached
+the cottage during all that time, fearing the news she expected, and
+gathering hope because it did not come.
+
+"Has Sir Noel been here?"
+
+"He was here that night," answered Ruth, shuddering, as she thought of
+the awful scene, when her father was brought home so death-like.
+
+"Not since? He knew that I was hurt, too."
+
+"He has sent the doctors here."
+
+"What news did they bring?"
+
+"I--I did not dare to ask."
+
+A look of deep compassion broke into those sunken eyes, and, turning
+on his pillow, the old man murmured in a painful whisper:
+
+"Poor child! Poor child!"
+
+Then Ruth fell to kissing his great hand again, murmuring:
+
+"Oh, father! you are so good to me--so good!"
+
+"I am weak--so weak," he answered, as if excusing something to
+himself. "But how could he--Well, well, when I am stronger--when I am
+stronger."
+
+The cottage was small, and the jar of an opening door could be felt
+through the whole little building. Some one was trying at the latch
+then, and a step was heard in the passage.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+THE BIRD AND THE SERPENT.
+
+
+"Go. It may be news," said the sick man.
+
+Before Ruth could reach the door she met Richard Storms coming toward
+her father's room. His manner was less audacious than usual, and his
+face clouded.
+
+"I have come to ask after your father," he said, with an anxious look,
+as if he expected some rebuff. "They say that he has been shot in the
+back by some lurking thief. Perhaps I could help ferret out who it is
+if the old man'll tell me all about it."
+
+"Father is too ill for talking," answered Ruth, shrinking out of her
+visitor's path. "He must be kept quiet."
+
+"Of course; but not from neighbors like us. The old man at the farm
+sent me over to hear all about it."
+
+"There is nothing to hear. Everybody knows how my poor father was
+found bleeding in the park. He has been very ill since, and is only
+now coming to himself."
+
+"Oh! ah! Then he has come to his senses. That was what we most wanted
+to know; for, of course, he can tell who shot him. I'll be sworn it is
+guessed at rightly enough. Still knowing is knowing."
+
+As he spoke, Storms moved forward, as if determined to enter the sick
+man's chamber.
+
+Ruth had no means of stopping him. She retreated backward, step by
+step, shrinking from his approach, but without the least power of
+resistance. When she reached the door, Storms put forth his hand and
+attempted to put her aside, not rudely; but she so loathed his touch,
+that a faint cry broke from hers.
+
+A look of bitter malice broke over the young man's face as he bent it
+close to her.
+
+"You didn't scream so when the young master took my place the night
+all this trouble came up. I could tell something of what chanced
+between your sweetheart and the old man, after he went out with my gun
+in his hand."
+
+"You know--you can tell? You saw?" whispered the poor girl, rendered
+hoarse by fear.
+
+"Ah, that makes you whimper, does it? That starts the blood from your
+white face. Yes, I saw--I saw; and when the courts want to know what I
+saw they will hear about it. Kicked dogs bite now and then. So don't
+gather your comely little self into a heap, when I come by again, or
+my tongue may be loosened. I have kept it between my teeth till now,
+for the sake of old times, when you were ready to smile when I came
+and were sorry when I went."
+
+"But we were children then."
+
+"Yes; but when he came with his dainty wooing, some one forgot that
+she had ever been a child."
+
+"No, no! As a playmate, I liked you. It was when--when--"
+
+"When, having the feelings of a man, I spoke them out, and was treated
+like a dog. Do not think I will ever forget that. No, never--never, to
+my dying day."
+
+"Why are you so harsh with me, Richard?" cried the poor girl, now
+thoroughly terrified. "I never in my whole life have done you harm."
+
+The young man laughed a low, disagreeable laugh.
+
+"Harm! Oh, no! Such milk-white doves as you never harm anything. They
+only fire a man's heart with love, then torment him with it, like
+witches--soft-spoken, smiling witches--that make us devils with their
+jibes, and idiots with their tears. Oh, I hardly know which is most
+enticing, love or hate, for such creatures."
+
+"Don't! don't! You frighten me!" pleaded the girl.
+
+"Aye, there it is. Faint at a plain word; but work out murder and
+bloodshed with the witchcraft of your false smiles and lying tears.
+That is what you have done, Ruth Jessup."
+
+"No! no!" cried the girl, putting up her hands.
+
+"Who was it that set her own father and sweetheart at each other?"
+
+"Hush! I will not hear this. It is false--it is cruel. There was no
+quarrel between them--no evil blood."
+
+"No quarrel--no evil blood! She says that, looking meek as a
+spring-lamb, chewing the lie in her mouth as that does clover. But
+what if I tell you that the old man in yonder knew just all that
+happened after I was turned out of the kitchen that night?"
+
+"It was you who told him that which might have brought great trouble
+on him and me; only good men are slow to believe evil of those they
+love. I knew from his own lips that you had waylaid him in the park
+with a wicked falsehood."
+
+"It was the truth, every word of it," exclaimed Storms, stamping his
+foot on the floor. "I saw it with my own eyes."
+
+"Saw what?" faltered the girl, sick with apprehension.
+
+"Saw! But I need not tell you. Only the next time Sir Noel's heir
+comes here, with his orders for flowers, and his wanting to know all
+about growing roses, have a curtain to the kitchen window, or train
+the ivy thicker over it. Now do you understand?"
+
+"It is you who cannot understand," said Ruth, feeling a glow of
+courage, which the young man mistook for shame. "The thing you did was
+a mean act, and if I had never hated you before, that would be cause
+enough."
+
+"This is brass. After all, I did think to see some sign of shame."
+
+Ruth turned away, faint with terror and disgust.
+
+"You may thank me that I told no one but the old man in yonder. Had I
+gone to Sir Noel--"
+
+"No, no--you could not; you dare not!"
+
+"Dare not! Well, now, I like that. Some day you will know how much I
+dare."
+
+"But why--why do you wish to injure me?"
+
+"Why does a hound snap when you mock him with a dainty bit of beef,
+and while his mouth waters, and his eyes gloat, toss it beyond his
+reach? You have learned something of the kennels, Ruth Jessup, and
+should know that men and hounds are alike in this."
+
+Ruth could hardly suppress the scorn that crept through her into
+silence. But she felt that this man held an awful power over
+everything she loved, and gave no expression to her bitter loathing.
+
+"Do you mean to let me in?" said Storms, almost coaxingly. "I want to
+have a word with the old man."
+
+Ruth stood aside. She dared not oppose him; but when free to pass, he
+hesitated, and a look of nervous anxiety came over his features.
+
+"The old man doesn't speak much; hasn't said how it all happened, ha?"
+
+"He has said nothing about it," answered Ruth, struck with new terror.
+
+The look of cool audacity came back to her enemy's face, and, without
+more ceremony, he pushed his way into the wounded man's room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+TRUE AS STEEL.
+
+
+Jessup was lying with his eyes closed, and his mouth firmly
+compressed, as if in pain. But the tread of heavy feet on the floor
+aroused him, and he opened his eyes in languid wonder. The sight of
+Storms brought slow fire to his eyes.
+
+"Is it you--you?" he whispered, sharply.
+
+"Yes, neighbor Jessup, it is I," answered Storms. "Father is sadly put
+about, and wants to know how it all happened. He means to have justice
+done, if no one else stirs in the matter--and I think with him."
+
+A look of keen, almost ferocious anxiety, darkened the young man's
+face as he said this.
+
+"That is kind and neighborly," answered the gardener, moving
+restlessly in his bed. "But there is nothing to tell."
+
+Storms looked at the sick man in dumb amazement. Up to this time his
+manner had been anxious, and his voice hurried. Now a dark red glow
+rose to his face, and blazed from his eyes with a glare of relief.
+
+"Nothing to tell, and you shot through the shoulder, in a way that has
+set the whole country side in commotion? This is a pretty tale to go
+home with."
+
+The young man spoke cheerfully, and with a sort of chuckle in his
+voice.
+
+"It is the truth," said Jessup, closing his eyes.
+
+"But some one shot you."
+
+"It was an accident," whispered the sick man.
+
+"An accident! Oh! was it an accident?"
+
+"Nothing worse."
+
+"Are you in earnest, Jessup?"
+
+"Do I look like a man who jokes?" said the gardener, with a slow
+smile.
+
+"And you are willing to swear to this?"
+
+"No one will want me to swear. No harm worth speaking of has been
+done."
+
+"Don't you be sure of that," answered Storms. "The peace has been
+broken, and two men have been badly hurt. This is work for a
+magistrate."
+
+Jessup shook his pale head on the pillow, and spoke with some energy.
+
+"I tell you it was an accident; my gun went off."
+
+"And I tell you it was no accident. I saw it all with my own eyes."
+
+"You--you saw it all?" exclaimed Jessup, rising on his elbow. "You!"
+
+"Just as plain as a bright moon and stars could show it to me."
+
+"How? How--"
+
+Jessup had struggled up from his pillow, but fell back almost
+fainting, with his wild eyes fixed steadily on the young man's face.
+
+"I had just passed under the cedar-trees, when you came in sight,
+walking fast, as if you were in a hurry to find some one."
+
+"It was you I was looking for. I was on my way to find you," whispered
+Jessup, so hoarsely that Storms had to bend low to catch his words.
+
+"Me! What for, I should like to know?"
+
+"Because I thought you had lied to me," answered the old man, turning
+his face from the light. "Oh, that it had been so--if it only had been
+so!"
+
+A sob shook that strong frame, and from under the wrinkled eyelids two
+great tears forced their way.
+
+A flash of intelligence gleamed across Storms' face. He was gaining
+more information than he had dared to hope for. But craft is the
+refuge of knaves, and the wisdom of fools. He had self-command enough
+for deception, and pretended not to observe the anguish of that proud
+man, for proud he was, in the best sense of the word.
+
+"I was hanging about the grounds, too savage for home or anything
+else," he went on to say. "I had seen enough to drive a man mad, and
+was almost that, when you came up. There was another man under the
+cedar-trees. I had been watching for him all the evening. You know who
+that was."
+
+Jessup gave a faint groan.
+
+"I knew that he was skulking there in hope of seeing her again."
+
+"It is a mistake!" exclaimed Jessup, with more force in his voice than
+he had as yet shown.
+
+Storms laughed mockingly.
+
+"So you mean to shield him? You--you tell me that young master wasn't
+in your house that night: that your daughter did not see him; that he
+did not shoot you for being in the way? Perhaps you will expect me to
+believe all that; but I saw it!"
+
+As these cruel words were rained over him, the sick man settled down
+in his bed, and seemed hardened into iron. The fire of combat glowed
+in his deep-set eyes, and his hand clenched a fold of the bed-clothes,
+as if both had been chiselled out of marble.
+
+"No one shot me. It was my own careless handling of the gun," he said.
+"No one shot me."
+
+Storms laughed again.
+
+"Oh, no, Jessup, that'll never do! What a man sees he sees."
+
+"No one shot me--it was myself."
+
+"But how did he come to harm, if it was not a kick on the head from
+the gun he did not know how to manage? I could have told him how to
+handle it better. My gun, too--"
+
+"Your gun!"
+
+"Yes, my gun. I left it behind the door, in the passage, when he sent
+me out. He took it when it was dangerous to stay longer. I saw it in
+his hand before you came out. He was armed--you were not."
+
+"I took the gun," said Jessup.
+
+"You will swear to that!" said Storms, really amazed. "You believe
+it?"
+
+"I took the gun. It went off by chance. That is all I have to say. Now
+leave me, young man, for so much talk is more than I can bear."
+
+Storms obeyed. He had not only gained all the information he wanted,
+but the material for new mischief had been supplied to a brain that
+was strong to work out evil. He found Ruth in the passage, walking up
+and down, wild and pale with distress. She gave him a look that might
+have softened a heart of marble, but only increased his
+self-gratulation.
+
+"Just let me ask this," he said, coming close to her, with a sneer on
+his face. "Which of those two men took out the gun I left standing
+behind the door that night--father or sweetheart? One or the other
+will have to answer for it. Which would you prefer to have hanged?"
+
+The deadly whiteness which swept over that young face only deepened
+the cruel sneer that had brought it forth. Bending lower down, the
+wretch added, "I saw it all. I know which it was that fired the shot.
+Now what will you give me to hold my tongue?"
+
+Ruth could not speak; but her eyes, full of shrinking fear, were fixed
+upon him.
+
+"You might marry me now rather than see him hung."
+
+Ruth shuddered, and looked wildly around, as a bird seeks to flee from
+a serpent that threatens its life.
+
+"Say, isn't my tongue worth bridling at a fair price?"
+
+"I--I do not understand you," faltered the poor young creature,
+drawing back with unconquerable aversion, till the wall supported her.
+
+"But you will understand what it all means, when he is dragged to the
+assizes, for all the rabble of the country side to look upon."
+
+Ruth covered her face with both hands.
+
+"Oh, you seem to see it now. That handsome face, looking out of a
+criminal's box; those white hands held up pleading for mercy. Mind
+you, his high birth and all his father's gold will only be the worse
+for him. The laws of old England reach gentlemen as well as us poor
+working folks. Ha! what is this?"
+
+The cruel wretch might well cry out, for Ruth had fainted at his
+feet.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+A CRUEL DESERTION.
+
+
+A week or two before these painful events happened at "Norston's
+Rest," Judith Hart had been expecting to see Storms day after day till
+disappointment kindled into fiery impatience, and the stillness of her
+home became intolerable. Had he, in fact, taken offence at her first
+words of reproach, and left her to the dreary old life? Had her rude
+passion of jealousy driven him from her forever, or was there some
+truth in the engagement that woman spoke of?
+
+Again and again Judith pondered over these questions, sometimes angry
+with herself, and again filled with a burning desire to know the
+worst, and hurl her rage and humiliation on some one else.
+
+She was a shrewd girl, endowed with a sharp intellect and a will, that
+stopped at nothing in its reckless assumption. To this was added a
+vivid imagination, influenced by coarse reading, uncurbed affections,
+and, in this case, an intense passion of love, that lay ready to join
+all these qualities into actions as steam conquers the inertia of
+iron. One day, when her desire for the presence of that man had become
+a desperate longing, her father came home earlier than usual, and in
+his kindly way told her that he had seen young Storms in the village
+where he had loitered half the morning around the public house.
+
+Judith was getting supper for the old man when he told her this; but
+she dropped the loaf from her hands and turned upon him, as if the
+news so gently spoken had offended her.
+
+"You saw Mr. Storms in the village, father? He stayed there hour after
+hour, and, at last, rode away up the hill-road, too, without stopping
+here? I don't believe it; if you told me so a thousand times, I
+wouldn't believe it!"
+
+The old man shook his head, and replied apologetically, as if he
+wished himself in the wrong, "You needn't believe it, daughter, if
+you'd rather not. I shall not mind."
+
+"But is it true? Was it Mr. Storms, the young gentleman, who took tea
+with us, that you saw?"
+
+"Of course, I don't want to contradict you, daughter Judith, but the
+young man I saw was Richard Storms. He stayed a long time at the
+public house talking with the landlord; then rode away on his blood
+horse like a prince."
+
+"Hours in the village, within a stone's throw from the house, and
+never once turned this way," muttered the girl, between her teeth; and
+seizing upon the loaf, she pressed it to her bosom, cutting through it
+with a dangerous sweep of the knife.
+
+"Did he speak to you?" she asked, turning upon her father.
+
+"Nay, he nodded his head when I passed him."
+
+"And the landlord, you said, they were speaking together?"
+
+"Oh, yes, quite friendly."
+
+"What did they talk about--could you hear?"
+
+"Yes, a little, now and then."
+
+"Well!"
+
+"Oh, it was a word lifted above the rest, when Storms got into the
+saddle."
+
+"A word--well, what was it?"
+
+"Something about a lass near 'Norston's Rest,' that folks say the
+young man is to wed."
+
+When Judith spoke again, her voice was so husky that the old man
+looked at her inquiringly, and wondered if it was the shadows that
+made her so pale.
+
+She felt his eyes upon her, and turned away.
+
+"Did you chance to hear the name--I mean _her_ name--the girl he is
+going to wed?"
+
+"If I did, it has slipped from my mind, but it was some one about
+'Norston's Rest.' She is to have a mint of money when some people die
+who are in the way."
+
+"Did he say this?"
+
+"Yes, daughter."
+
+When Hart looked around, he saw that Judith had laid the loaf of bread
+on the table, with the knife thrust in it, and was gone. The old man
+was used to such reckless abandonment whenever Judith was displeased
+with a subject, or disliked a task; so, after waiting patiently a
+while for her to come back, he broke off the half-severed slice of
+bread, and began to make his supper from that.
+
+After a while Judith came into the room. Her color was all gone, and a
+look of fiery resolve broke through the trouble in her eyes.
+
+"Where has he gone, father--can you tell me that?"
+
+"How can I say? He wasn't likely to give much of an account of himself
+to an old man like me."
+
+"Don't you think it strange that he should go off like that?"
+
+"Well, no," answered the old man, with some deliberation. "Young
+fellows like him take sudden ideas into their heads. They're not to be
+depended on."
+
+"And this is all you know, father?"
+
+"Yes; how should I know more?"
+
+"Good-night, father."
+
+The girl went into the hall, came back again, and kissed her father on
+the forehead three or four times. While she did this, tears leaped
+into her eyes, and the arms around his neck trembled violently.
+
+"Why, what has come over the girl?" said the old man. "I'm not angry
+about the supper, child. One can't always expect things to be hot and
+comfortable. There, now, go to bed, and think no more about it."
+
+"Go to bed!" No, no! the girl had no thought of sleep that night. Far
+into the morning the light of her meagre candle gleamed through the
+window of her room, revealing her movements as she raved to and fro,
+like a wild animal in its cage--sometimes crouching down by the window
+as if impatient for the dawn--sometimes flinging herself desperately
+on the bed, but always in action.
+
+Hart went to his work very early the next morning, and did not see his
+daughter, who sometimes slept far beyond the breakfast hour. He was
+very tired and hungry that night, when he came home from work, but
+found the house empty, and saw no preparation for supper, except that
+the leaf of a table which stood against the wall was drawn out, and an
+empty plate and spoon stood upon it.
+
+Finding that Judith did not appear, he arose wearily, went into the
+pantry, and brought out a dish of cold porridge in one hand, with a
+pitcher of milk in the other. With this miserable apology for a meal,
+he drew his chair to the table and began to eat, as he had done many a
+time before, when, from caprice or idleness, the girl had left him to
+provide for himself. Then the poor old man sat by the hearth, from
+habit only; for nothing but dead ashes was before him, and spent a
+dreary hour waiting. Still Judith did not come, so he went, with a
+heavy heart, into a small untidy room where he usually slept, carrying
+a candle in his hand.
+
+As he sat on the bed wondering, with vague uneasiness, what could have
+kept his daughter out so late, the old man saw a crumpled paper,
+folded somewhat in the form of a letter, lying on the floor at his
+feet, where some reckless hand had tossed it. When this paper met the
+poor father's eye, he arose from the bed, with painful weariness, and
+took it to the light. Here he smoothed the heartless missive with his
+hands, and wandered about a while in search of his iron-bound
+spectacles, that shook in his hand as he put them on:
+
+     FATHER --Don't fret about me; but I am going away for a while.
+     This old place has tired me out, and there is no use in
+     starving oneself in it any longer. The wages you get is not
+     enough for one, to say nothing of a girl that has wants like
+     other folks, and is likely to keep on wanting if she stays with
+     you against her will. I might feel worse about leaving you so
+     if I had ever been of much use or comfort to you; but I know
+     just as well as you do, that I haven't done my share, and
+     nothing like it. I know, too, that if I stayed, it would be
+     worse instead of better; for I couldn't stand trying to be good
+     just now--no, not to save my life!
+
+     You won't miss me, anyhow; for when I'm gone, the people you
+     work for will ask you to take a meal now and then; besides, you
+     were always handy about the house, and know how to cook for
+     yourself.
+
+     I would have come in to say good-by, but was afraid you might
+     wake up and try to keep me from going. Now don't put yourself
+     out, or let the neighbors fill your head with stories about me.
+     There's nothing to tell, only that I have taken an idea to
+     get a place and better myself, which I will before you see me
+     again. If I do, never fear that I will not send you some money.
+
+    Your daughter,
+                                                          JUDITH
+
+The old man read this rude scrawl twice over--the first time shaking
+like a leaf, the last time with tears--every one a drop of
+pain--trembling in his eyes and blinding them.
+
+"Gone!" he said, wiping his eyes with the soiled linen of his sleeve.
+"My lass gone away, no one knows where, and nothing but this left
+behind to remember her by! Poor thing!--poor young thing! It was
+lonesome here, and maybe I was hard on her in the way of work--wanted
+too much cooking done! But I didn't mean to be extravagant--didn't
+mean to drive her away from home, poor motherless thing! It's all my
+fault! it's all my fault! Oh! if she would only come back, and give me
+a chance to tell her so!"
+
+The poor old man went to his work that day, looking worn out, and so
+downcast that the neighbors turned pitying glances at him as he passed
+down the hill, for he never had stooped so much or appeared so forlorn
+to them before. One or two stopped to speak with him. He said nothing
+of his daughter, but answered their greetings with downcast eyes and
+humble thanks, not once mentioning his trouble, or giving a sign of
+the gnawing anguish that racked his bosom and sapped his strength. She
+had left him, and in that lay desolation too dreary for complaint.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+THE WIFE'S VISIT.
+
+
+"I must see him. I will see him! Oh, Mrs. Mason, if you only knew how
+important it is!"
+
+The good housekeeper, who sat in her comfortable parlor at "The Rest,"
+was surprised and troubled by the sudden appearance of her pretty
+favorite from the gardener's cottage. She was hard to move, but could
+not altogether steel herself against the pathetic pleading of that
+pale young creature, who had come up from her home through the lonely
+dusk, to ask a single word with the young heir.
+
+Sick or well, she said, that word must be spoken. All she wanted of
+Mrs. Mason was to let her into his room a single minute--one
+minute--she would not ask for more. Only if Mrs. Mason did not want to
+see her die, she would help her to speak that one word.
+
+There is something in passionate earnestness which will awake the most
+lethargic heart to energy, if that heart is kindly disposed. The stout
+housekeeper of the Hall had known and petted Ruth Jessup from the time
+she was old enough to carry her little apron full of fruit or flowers
+from the gardener's cottage to her room in the great mansion. It went
+to her heart to refuse anything to the fair young creature, who still
+seemed to her nothing more than a child; but the wild request, and the
+tearful energy with which it was urged, startled the good woman into
+sharp opposition.
+
+"Mr. Walton! You wish to see him, Ruthy? Who ever heard of such a
+thing? It quite makes me tremble to think of it. What can a child like
+you want with the young master, and he sick in bed, with everybody
+shut out but the doctor, and wet ice-cloths on his head, night and
+day. I couldn't think of mentioning it. I wonder you could bring
+yourself to ask me. If it had been anything in my line now!"
+
+"It is! It is! Kindness is always in your line, dear godmother!"
+pleaded the poor girl, putting one arm over the housekeeper's broad
+shoulders, and laying her pale cheek against the rosy freshness which
+bloomed in that of her friend. "I wouldn't ask you, only it is so
+important."
+
+"But what can it be that you want to say, Ruthy? I cannot begin to
+understand it," questioned the old woman, faltering a little in her
+hastily expressed denial; for the soft-pleading kisses lavished on her
+face had their effect. "If you were not such a child now."
+
+"But I am not a child, godmother."
+
+"Hoity-toity! Is she setting herself up as a woman? Well, that does
+make me laugh. Why, it is but yesterday like since your mother came
+into this very room, such a pale, young thing, with you in her arms.
+She was weak then, with the consumption, that carried her off, burning
+like fire in her poor, thin cheeks, while you lay in her arms, plump
+as a pheasant, with those gipsy black eyes full of fire, and a crow of
+joy on your baby mouth. Ah, me! I remember it so well!"
+
+"My poor young mother asked something of you then, didn't she?" said
+Ruth.
+
+"Well, yes, she did. I mind it well. She had something on her heart,
+and came to me about it."
+
+"And that was--"
+
+"About you, child. She knew that she was going to die, and--and I had
+always liked her, and been friendly, you know."
+
+"Yes, I know that. Father has told me."
+
+"Being so, it was but natural that she should come to me in her last
+trouble."
+
+"She could not have come to a dearer or kinder soul," murmured Ruth.
+
+"Nonsense, child! She might; but then the truth was she didn't. It was
+me the poor thing chose to trust. I shall never forget her look that
+day when she sat down on a stool at my feet, just there by the window,
+and told me that she knew it was coming death that made her so feeble.
+She was looking at you then as well as she could, through the great
+tears that seemed to cool the heat in her eyes; and you lay still as a
+mouse, looking at her as if there was cause of baby wonderment in her
+tears. Then all at once your little mouth began to tremble, and
+lifting up your arms, you cried out, as if her tender grief had hurt
+you. That brought the tears into my eyes. So we all sat there crying
+together, though hardly a word had been spoken up to then. Still I
+knew what it all meant, and reaching out my arms, took you to my own
+bosom."
+
+"Bless you for it," murmured Ruth.
+
+"Another baby had slept in that bosom once, and somewhere in God's
+great universe I knew that she might find it among the angels, and
+care for it as I meant to care for you, Ruthy."
+
+"She did! She does! Only that child is so much happier than I am,"
+sobbed Ruth, tenderly. "She has all the angels; I only you!"
+
+Mrs. Mason lifted her plump hand, with which she patted the young
+creature's cheek, and said that she was a good child, and always had
+been; only a little headstrong, now and then, which was not to be
+wondered at, seeing it was out of the question that she, though she
+meant to be a kind godmother, could altogether fill the place of that
+sweet, dead mother; she must be at her duties there in "The Rest,"
+while Jessup was obstinate, and would keep the child with him.
+
+"And you are all the mother I have now," said Ruth, who had listened
+with forced patience. "To whom else can I go?"
+
+"Why, to no one. I should like to see man or woman attempt to cheat me
+out of my trust! I will say this for Jessup, headstrong as he is about
+having you with him, he has not interfered. When it was my pleasure to
+have you taught things that only ladies think of learning, he never
+thought of having a word to say against it; so I had my own way with
+my own money, and you will know the good of all the learning when you
+are old enough to go among people, and think of a husband, which must
+not be for years yet."
+
+Ruth sighed heavily.
+
+"Meantime, my dear," continued the housekeeper, "we must be looking
+about for the proper person. With the learning we have given you, and
+certain prospects, we shall have a right to look high. Not among the
+gentry, though you will be pretty enough and bright enough for most of
+them, according to my thinking; but there are genteel tradespeople in
+the village, and they sometimes creep up among the gentry in these
+times. So who knows that you will not be made a lady in that way?"
+
+"Oh, no! Do not speak of it--do not think of it!" said Ruth, with
+nervous energy. "I cannot bear that!"
+
+"What a child it is! but I like to see it. Forward young things are my
+abomination; but you may as well know it first as last, Ruthy. When I
+promised your dying mother to be a mother to you, it was not in
+words; but deep down in my heart, I gave you that other child's place.
+I am an old woman, and have saved money, which would have been hers,
+and shall be yours some of these days."
+
+Ruth let her head fall on the kind housekeeper's shoulder, and burst
+into a passion of tears. Again the old woman patted her upon the
+cheek.
+
+"Why, child, what is the matter? I thought this news would make you
+happy. Take this for your comfort, my savings are heavier than people
+think."
+
+"Don't! oh, don't! I cannot bear it," sobbed the girl. "Everybody--that
+is almost everybody--is far too kind: you above all. Only--only it is
+not money I want just now."
+
+"But my dear--"
+
+"All the money in the world, if you could give it me, could not be so
+much as the thing I asked just now," Ruth broke in, made desperate as
+the subject of her wish seemed drifting out of sight. "I want it so
+much--so much."
+
+"My child, it is impossible. What would Sir Noel say? What would the
+Lady Rose say?"
+
+"She has no right. What is it to her?" cried the girl, stung by a
+sharp pang of jealousy, which overmastered every other feeling.
+
+"Ruth!"
+
+"Forgive me. I am so unhappy."
+
+"Ruth, I do not understand. You do not cry like a child, but as women
+cry when their hearts are breaking."
+
+"My heart is breaking."
+
+"Poor child! Is it about your father?"
+
+"Yes, oh, yes! My father!"
+
+"But the doctors say he is better."
+
+"He is better; but we fear trouble, great trouble."
+
+"Where? How?"
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Mason, I must tell you, or you will not let me see him. They
+will try to make out that the young master shot my father."
+
+"They? Who? I should like to meet the man who dares say it, face to
+face with me."
+
+Ruth shuddered. She had met the man, and his evil smile haunted her.
+
+"It may be that it is only a threat," she said; "but it frightened us,
+and made my father worse."
+
+"But he knows--surely he knows? What does your father say?"
+
+"The man's rude talk threw him into a fever. He was quite wild, and
+tried to get up and dress himself, that he might come and see Wa--,
+the young master, at once."
+
+"Why, the man was crazy," exclaimed Mrs. Mason.
+
+"He seemed like it. I could not keep him in bed, and only pacified
+him, by promising to come myself. You see now why it is that I must
+speak with Mr. Walton."
+
+"Yes, I see," observed the housekeeper, now quite bewildered. "But had
+you not better go to Sir Noel?"
+
+"No! no! My father bade me speak to no one but the young master."
+
+"Well, well! if he knows about your coming, I don't so much mind. Wait
+a bit, and I will send for Webb, Sir Noel's own man, who is in the
+young master's chamber night and day. I will have a nice bit of supper
+served up here, and that will keep him while you can steal into the
+room without trouble."
+
+Ruth flung her arms around the good woman's neck, and covered her face
+with grateful kisses.
+
+"Oh, how good you are--how good you are!"
+
+"Well! well! Remember, dear, if I give you your own way now, it is
+because of your father."
+
+"I know--I know; but how soon? It is now after dark!"
+
+The housekeeper rung her bell. Then, as if struck with a new thought,
+told Ruth to go into her bedroom, and not attempt to enter any other
+part of the house, till she knew that Webb was safe down at the
+supper-table. Ruth promised, and stealing into the bedroom, sat down
+on a couch and waited.
+
+Scarcely had she left the room, when Mrs. Hipple, the companion of
+Lady Rose, came in, and heard the orders Mrs. Mason gave regarding
+Webb. A certain gleam of intelligence shot across that shrewd old
+face, and after making some trifling errand, she went out, with a
+smile on her lips.
+
+For half an hour Ruth sat in the darkness with her head bowed and her
+hands locked. It seemed an age to her before she heard the clink of
+cups, and the soft ring of silver. Then, listening keenly, she heard a
+man's voice speaking with the housekeeper. This might be Webb. She was
+resolved to make sure of that, and, walking on tip-toe across the
+carpet, noiselessly opened the door far enough to see that personage
+seated by the housekeeper, eating a dainty little supper.
+
+Quick as a bird, Ruth stole through the opposite door, up the
+servants' stair-case, and along the upper hall, on which the family
+bed-chambers opened.
+
+Trembling with excitement, which oppressed her to faintness, she
+turned the latch, and stole into the chamber, but only to pause a
+step from the door, dumb and cold, as if, then and there, turned into
+stone.
+
+Another person was in the room, standing close by the bed, with the
+glow of its silken curtains falling over the soft whiteness of her
+dress, and the rich masses of her golden hair. It was Lady Rose.
+
+A moment this fair vision stood gazing upon the inmate of the bed,
+then her face drooped downward, and seemed to rest upon the pillow,
+where another head lay. The night-lamp was dim, but Ruth could see
+this, and also that the lady sunk slowly to her knees, and rested her
+cheek against a hand, around which her fingers were enwoven.
+
+Not a word did that young wife utter. Not a breath did she draw, but,
+turning swiftly, fled.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+BY MY MOTHER IN HEAVEN.
+
+
+Ruth Jessup stood by her father's bed, white as a ghost, and cold as a
+stone. Her step, usually so light, had fallen heavily on the floor as
+she entered the room--so heavily that the sick man started in his bed,
+afraid of some unwelcome intrusion. The room was darkened, and he did
+not see how pale his child was, even when she stood close to him.
+
+"Did you see him? Did you tell him to keep a close lip? Does he know
+that I would be hacked to pieces rather than harm him? Why don't you
+speak, Ruth?"
+
+"I saw him, father; but that was all," answered the girl, in a voice
+that sounded unnatural to him.
+
+"That was all? Did you not give him my own words?"
+
+"No, father! Another person was with him. I had no power to speak."
+
+The old man groaned, and gave an impatient grip at the bed-clothes.
+
+"I will get up. I will go myself!"
+
+With the words on his lips, the old man half-rose, and fell back upon
+his pillow with a gasp of pain.
+
+"Oh, father! do not try to move. It hurts you so!" said Ruth, bending
+over him.
+
+"But he must be told. That young man threatens us. He must be told! So
+rash--so young. He might--Oh!"
+
+"Father! father! You are killing yourself!"
+
+"No, no, child! I must not do that. Never was a poor wounded man's
+life of so much consequence as mine is now."
+
+Ruth bent over him, and he saw that she was silently crying.
+
+"Oh, father! what would I do--what would I do?" she sobbed.
+
+The gardener's eyes filled with pity.
+
+"Aye. What would you? But I am not dead yet. There, there! wipe your
+eyes. We shall live to go away from this dreary place, and take the
+trouble with us--the trouble and the shame."
+
+A flash of fire shot through the pallor of Ruth Jessup's face. She
+drew her slender figure upright.
+
+"Shame! No, father. Sick or well, I will not let you say that. No
+shame has fallen upon us."
+
+"Ruth! Ruth! You say this?"
+
+"Father, I swear it! I, who tremble at the sound of an oath, knowing
+how sacred a thing it is. I swear it by my mother, who is in heaven!"
+
+The old man reached up his arms, and drew the girl down to his bosom,
+which was heaving with great wave-like sobs.
+
+"My child! my child! my own--own--"
+
+He murmured these broken words over her. He patted her shoulder; he
+smoothed her hair with his great, trembling hand. His sobs shook the
+bed, and a rain of tears moistened his pillow.
+
+"You believe me, father?"
+
+"Would I believe your mother, could she speak from her place by the
+great white throne? The mother you have sworn by!"
+
+"The mother I have sworn by," repeated Ruth, lifting her eyes to
+heaven.
+
+"Thank God! Thank God! Ah, Ruth! my child! my child!"
+
+The locked agony, which was not all physical pain, went out of the old
+man's face then. His eyes softened, his lips relaxed; a deep, long
+breath heaved his chest. After this he lay upon his pillow, weak as a
+child, and smiling like one.
+
+Thus Ruth watched by him for an hour; but her face was contracted with
+anxiety, that came back upon her after the calm of her father's rest.
+She had told him the truth, yet how much was kept back? There was no
+shame to confess; but oh, how much of sorrow to endure! Danger, too,
+of which Hurst should be warned. But how, with that fair woman by his
+side--how could any one approach him with counsel or help?
+
+Jessup stirred on his pillow. An hour of refreshing sleep had given
+him wonderful strength. That surgeon, when he took the bullet from his
+chest, had not given him half the relief found in the words which Ruth
+had uttered. But out of those words came subjects for reflection when
+his brain awoke from its slumbers. If Ruth spoke truly, what object
+could have led to his own wounds? Why had young Hurst assaulted him if
+there was nothing to conceal--no vengeance to anticipate? Then arose a
+vague consciousness that all was not clear in his own mind regarding
+the events that had brought him so near death. The darkness of
+midnight lay under those old cedars of Lebanon. He had seen the figure
+of a man under their branches that night, but remembered it vaguely. A
+little after, when the bullet had struck him, and he was struggling up
+from the ground, he did see a face on the verge of the moonlight,
+looking that way. That face was Walton Hurst. Then all was black. He
+must have fainted.
+
+But how had the young man been wounded? There had been a
+struggle--Jessup remembered that. Perhaps he had wrested the gun from
+his assailant, and struck back in the first agony of his wound; but of
+that he had no certainty--a sharp turn, and one leap upon the dark
+figure, was all he could remember.
+
+What motive was there for all this? Better than his own life had he
+loved the family of Sir Noel Hurst--the young heir most of all. What
+cause of enmity had arisen up against him, a most faithful and always
+favored retainer? Ah, if he could but see the young man!
+
+But that was impossible. Both were stricken down, and Ruth had failed
+to carry the message of conciliation and caution that had been
+intrusted to her. Even when writhing under a sense of double wrong,
+his love for the young man had come uppermost; and in the desperate
+apprehension inspired by Richard Storms, he had urged Ruth to go and
+warn the heir.
+
+In health he might not have done this; for, though anything but a
+vindictive man, Jessup was proud in his manly way, and would have
+shrunk from that means of reassuring the man who had hurt him; but
+there was still continued riots of fever in his brain, and in the
+terror brought on him by Storms he had forgotten all the rest. Indeed,
+he had been incapable of cool reasoning from the first; but his
+affectionate nature acted for itself.
+
+Now, when the pressure of doubt regarding his own child was removed, a
+struggle to remember events clearly came on, which threatened to
+excite his nerves into continued restlessness. He was constantly
+pondering over the subject of that attack, and the morning found him
+dangerously wakeful.
+
+"My child."
+
+Ruth, who had been resting in an easy-chair, was by his side in an
+instant.
+
+"I am here, father, but you have not slept. How bright your eyes are!"
+
+"Ruth, have I been out of my head again, or did you say something in
+the night that lifted the stone from my heart? Is it all or half a
+dream?"
+
+"I told you only the truth, father."
+
+"Ah, but that truth was everything. It may change everything."
+
+"Do not talk so eagerly, father; the doctor will scold me when he
+comes."
+
+"Let him scold. You have done me more good, child, than he ever can;
+but you look worn out, your eyes have dark stains under them."
+
+"I shall be better now," answered the poor girl, turning her face
+away.
+
+"Ah, yes, everything will turn out right as soon as I can see him.
+Anyway, my lips shall never tell a word of it. All the courts in the
+world could not draw that out of me. He thought I was doubting
+him--that I meant to harm him, may be. Youth is so quick to act--so
+quick!"
+
+"Oh, father, did he--did he do it?" cried Ruth, with a quick,
+passionate outburst.
+
+"Have I not said that nothing should make me answer that, lass? No one
+shall hurt the young master with my help."
+
+Ruth questioned her father no more. His words had confirmed her worst
+fears. It seemed to her as if all the world had arrayed itself against
+her feeble strength. But one ray of light broke through her troubles.
+Her father was better. He evidently believed in her. The bitter pain
+had all gone out from his heart. He smiled upon her when she left the
+room, and tasted of the breakfast she prepared for him with something
+like a return of appetite.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX.
+
+THE BARMAID OF THE TWO RAVENS.
+
+
+"Norston's Rest" had its village lying within a mile of the park gate,
+mostly inhabited by the better sort of small tradespeople, with
+laborers' cottages scattered here and there on the outskirts, with
+more or less picturesqueness. From the inhabitants of this village
+and a large class of thrifty farmers, tenants on the estate, the
+public house drew its principal support.
+
+One evening, just after the heir of "Norston's Rest" and its gardener
+were taken up wounded and insensible in the park, a party of these
+persons was assembled in the public room, talking over the exciting
+news. Among them was young Storms, who was referred to and called upon
+for information more frequently than seemed pleasant to him.
+
+"How should I know?" he said; "the whole affair happened in the night.
+There wasn't likely to be any witnesses but the young heir and the old
+man himself. Who knows that it wasn't a chance slip of the trigger?"
+
+A hoarse laugh followed this speech, and the drinking-cups were set
+down with a dash of derision as one after another took it up.
+
+"A chance slip of the trigger! Ha, ha, ha! Who ever heard tell of a
+gun going off of itself and killing two men--one at the muzzle and
+t'other with the stock?" exclaimed one. "Most of us here have handled
+a gun long enough to know better than that. Come, come, Storms, tell
+us summat about it, for, if any man knows, it's yoursel'."
+
+"I," said Dick, lifting both hands in much astonishment, while his
+face gave sinister confirmation of the charge. "How should I know?
+What should bring me into that part of the park?"
+
+"In that part of the park--as if a more likely place could be found
+for you. Besides, some one said that you were out that very night, and
+you never gave the lie to it."
+
+"Well, and if I was, what should bring me to the cedars, lying
+straight in the way between 'The Rest' and Jessup's cottage? My road
+home lay on the other side."
+
+This was said with a covert smile, well calculated to excite suspicion
+of some secret knowledge which the young man was keeping back.
+
+"Did you order more wine, sir?"
+
+Storms half leaped from his chair, but sat down again instantly;
+casting a swift glance at the barmaid, who was apparently occupied in
+changing some of the empty bottles for others that were full.
+
+"Judith Hart!"
+
+The name had almost broken from his lips, but he checked it promptly,
+and pushing his empty glass toward her, looked smilingly in her face,
+and said, "I was afraid you had forgotten me."
+
+There was a subtle thrill of persuasion in his voice, some meaning far
+deeper than his words, that turned the girl's averted look to his own.
+
+"No," she answered, almost in a whisper, "it is not me that forgets."
+
+Dick breathed again; a tone of reproach had broken through the hard
+composure of her first speech. In reaching forth his cup he managed to
+touch the girl's hand. She drew it back with a jerk, and flashing a
+wrathful glance at him left the room.
+
+Meantime the conversation had been going on among the other occupants
+of the room.
+
+"The doctor says that it may go hard with Jessup. One was saying, 'the
+ball went clear through him.' As for the young master--".
+
+"Ah, he will be all right in a day or two. There was no great hurt;
+nothing but a blow on the head, which laid him out stark a while, and
+left him crazy as a loon; but that is nothing like a hole through the
+body."
+
+"If Jessup should die, now," said another.
+
+"Why, then, there would be a sharp lookout for the murderer. Now Sir
+Noel will have nothing done."
+
+"There may be a reason for that," said Storms, coming forward, and
+speaking in a sinister whisper.
+
+The man, thus addressed, lifted the pewter cup, newly-filled with
+beer, to his mouth and drank deeply, giving Dick a long, significant
+look over the rim.
+
+"Least said soonest mended," he answered, in a low voice, wiping the
+foam from his lips. "At any rate, where the family up there is
+concerned. Sir Noel is not likely to make a stir in the matter; and as
+for Jessup--"
+
+"Jessup is a stubborn fool," said Storms, viciously.
+
+"Not if Sir Noel makes it worth his while. I would rather have a
+hundred gold sovereigns in my pocket any day than see a dashing,
+handsome youngster like one we know of at the assizes; though it would
+be a rare sight in old England."
+
+"Yes, a rare sight. A rare sight!" said Storms, rubbing his thin hands
+with horrid glee. "I would go half over England to see it. Only as you
+say, old Jessup loves gold better than vengeance. If he had died
+now--"
+
+"Why, then, there would be no evidence, you see."
+
+"Don't you be so sure of that," said Storms, "he may die. Men don't
+get up so readily with bullet-holes through them. He may, and then--"
+
+Here the young man took his wine from the barmaid, and began to sip
+its contents, drop by drop, as if it had a taste of vengeance he was
+prolonging to the utmost.
+
+The girl watched him, and a strange smile crept over her mouth.
+
+"Here, drink with me, lass," he said, holding the glass toward her.
+"Drink with me, and fill again; there is enough for us both."
+
+"No," said the girl, pushing the glass away; "not here or now."
+
+Storms saw that the men around his portion of the table were occupied,
+and spoke to her in a swift, low voice:
+
+"When and where?"
+
+The girl gave her head a toss, and moved down the table, casting a
+look over her shoulder, which made the young man restless in his seat.
+Directly she came back, and leaning close to him, while her hand was
+busy with the glasses, whispered sharply:
+
+"To-night, after the house is closed, I want to see you, face to face,
+just once more."
+
+"That will do," whispered Storms; "and a nice time I shall have of
+it," he thought, with some apprehension.
+
+"A fine lass that," said the man who sat nearest him, as the barmaid
+moved across the room, with the force and rude grace of a leopardess.
+"Kin to the mistress here, isn't she--a cousin?"
+
+The man spoke loud enough for others to hear, and followed the girl
+with bold, admiring eyes.
+
+Storms answered him with sneering sarcasm. He felt this to be
+imprudent, but could not suppress the venom of his nature, even when
+his heart was quaking with terror.
+
+"I have not inquired into her pedigree. You may be more interested.
+She is a little out of my level."
+
+He was about to say more, but checked himself, and ended his speech
+more cautiously: "If she has kinsfolk here, none of us ever heard of
+them."
+
+"But where did she come from?" questioned the man, who was greatly
+interested in the singular girl. "Such black hair and eyes should be
+of a strange land. There is nothing English about her but her speech.
+Look at her face; the color burns through it like wine."
+
+"Now that she looks fierce," said another, "one sees how handsome a
+fiery woman can be. Some one has stirred up her temper. He may find
+himself the worse for it. The fellows are shy of angering her, take my
+word on that. She has a quick hand, and a sharp tongue; but her
+bright, comely face brings customers to the house. A tidy girl is the
+new one. Only keep the right side of her, that's all."
+
+Just then the barmaid came back into the room. There was something in
+her appearance that might have reminded one of Ruth Jessup, could the
+soul of a wild animal have harbored in the form of that beautiful
+girl. The same raven hair, and large eyes; the same rich complexion,
+joined to features coarser, sensuous, and capable of expressing many
+passions that Ruth could not have imagined. As she stood, with a sort
+of easy grace, the purely physical resemblance was remarkable; but
+when she moved or spoke, it was gone. Then the coarse nature came out,
+and overwhelmed the imagination.
+
+"Where did she come from?" asked Judith's new admirer.
+
+"Better ask her yourself," answered Storms, absolutely jealous that
+any one should admire the beauty he had begun to loathe.
+
+"I will," said the man, and, leaving the table, he approached Judith
+with a jaunty exhibition of gallantry, which she received with a cold
+stare, and, turning from him, walked back into the bar.
+
+Storms broke into a laugh, and followed the girl into her retreat.
+Even in that brief interval he had arranged his plan of action, and
+carried it out adroitly. The girl knew that he was coming, and stood
+there, like a leopard in its den, ready to fight or be persuaded, as
+her heart swayed to love or resentment.
+
+"This is madness; it is cruel to your old father--hard on me. Twice
+have I been to the house, and found it empty."
+
+The fire went out of Judith's face. Bewildered, baffled and ready to
+cry, she turned away with a gesture that Storms took for unbelief of
+what was indeed a glib falsehood.
+
+"No one could tell me where to look for you. Of all places in the
+world, how could I expect to find you here?"
+
+"You have been to the old house?" said Judith. "Is this true? Tell me,
+is it the truth?"
+
+"The truth!" repeated Storms, with a look of amazement. "What should
+prevent me going as usual?"
+
+"Nothing but your own will. Nothing but--"
+
+"But what, Judith?"
+
+"But her--the girl that lives in the park at 'Norston's Rest.'"
+
+"That story again! How often shall I be called upon to tell you it is
+sheer gossip?"
+
+"But you told it yourself to the landlord at our village."
+
+"Not as a fact; but amusing myself with the absurd things that are
+said about one; things that one repeats and laughs about with the
+first man he meets."
+
+Judith bent her eyes downward; their proud defiance was extinguished;
+the heaviness of repentant shame fell upon her. Before she could
+speak, a call outside startled them both. Storms broke off the
+interview with some hurried snatches of direction.
+
+"Take the highway; here is a key to the little park-gate; turn to the
+left, the wilderness lies that way. In its darkest place you will come
+upon a lake. There is an old summer-house on the bank: I will be
+there; if not, wait for me. You will not mind the walk?"
+
+"No, no!"
+
+"Good-night, then."
+
+Storms said this and was gone. Judith went back to the public room.
+There the company had fallen into more confidential conversation.
+
+"No wonder the young man is put about so," said one. "Old Jessup was
+as good as his father-in-law, and of course he feels it. Then there is
+a story going that the heir was over sweet on pretty Ruth, the
+daughter, and that, no doubt, has made more bitterness. For my part, I
+think the young man bears it uncommonly well."
+
+"Uncommonly well," answered another. "This poaching in our cottages,
+whenever a young face happens to grow comely there, is a shame that no
+man should put up with. I shouldn't wonder if Jessup had made a stand
+against it, and got a bullet through him for interfering. Our young
+lords make nothing of putting an old man aside when he dares to stand
+between a pretty daughter and harm. But see how the law waits for
+them. Had it been Storms, now, he would have been in jail, waiting for
+the assizes. Yet who could have blamed him? The girl was his
+sweetheart, and a winsome lass she is. But Storms will never wed her
+now."
+
+"Wed her--as if the young gentleman ever thought of it!" said Judith,
+breaking into the conversation. "There is your beer, man; let it stop
+your mouth till more sense comes into it."
+
+The man laughed and cast a knowing glance at his companions.
+"Hoity-toity! Lies the wind in that quarter?" he said. "Well, I had
+begun to suspicion it."
+
+This outburst was received with shouts of laughter, and a loud
+rattling of pewter. This was an ovation that the landlady liked to
+witness; for half the value of her new barmaid to the public house lay
+in her quick wit and saucy expression. Even the fierce passions into
+which she was sometimes thrown amused the men who frequented that
+room, and enticed them there quite as much as the beer they drank.
+
+"One thing is sure," said Judith's tormentor, renewing the
+conversation with keener zest: "Storms has lost a pretty wife and a
+good bit of money by this affray."
+
+Judith turned deadly white, and specks of foam flew to her lips.
+
+"Do you mean that?"
+
+"Of course I mean it."
+
+"That Richard Storms and Ruth Jessup would have been wed now, if this
+affray at the park had not happened? Is that what you mean?"
+
+"Mean? Why, lass, there is not a man here who does not know it. Ask
+him, if you can't believe us."
+
+"I will!" answered the girl, between her white teeth. "That is the
+very question I mean to put to him before the sun rises."
+
+These words were uttered in a voice so low and broken that no one
+heard it. She was silent after that, and went about her work
+sullenly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+THE OLD LAKE HOUSE.
+
+
+The park at "Norston's Rest" was divided by a swift stream that flowed
+into it from the distant uplands, separating the highly cultivated
+portions from the wilderness. Jessup's cottage was within the pleasure
+grounds, but its upper windows overlooked a small but deep lake,
+formed by a ravine, and the hollows of a rocky ledge, which made an
+almost bottomless gulf, into which the mountain stream emptied itself,
+and after losing half its volume in some underground outlet glided off
+down the valley.
+
+Nothing could be more wild and picturesque than this little lake,
+embosomed, as it was, with thrifty evergreens, fine old trees, and
+rocks, to which the ivy clung in luxuriant draperies. At its outlet,
+where the sun shone most of the day, wild hyacinths and mats of blue
+violets empurpled the banks before they appeared in any other place,
+and a host of summer flowers kept up the blossom season sometimes long
+after leaf-fall. Near this spot, the brightest of all the wilderness,
+stood an old summer-house, built by some former lord of "The Rest."
+Jessup had trained wild roses among the ivy that completely matted the
+old building together, and around its base had allowed the lush
+grasses to grow uncut, casting their seed, year by year, until the
+most thrifty reached to the balustrades of a wooden balcony that
+partly overhung the lake in its deepest part.
+
+Nothing could be more picturesque than this old building, when the
+moon shone down upon and kindled up the waters beneath it, with a
+brightness more luminous than silver. The shivering ivy, the
+flickering shadows of a great tree, that drooped long, protecting
+branches over it, formed a picture that any artist would have got up
+at midnight to look upon. Still a more practical man might have
+pronounced its old timbers unsafe, and its position, half perched on a
+bank, with its balcony over the water, dangerous as it was
+picturesque.
+
+Be this as it may, two persons stood within this building, after
+eleven o'clock at night, revealed by the same moon that looked down on
+those two wounded men, now struggling for life in the proud old
+mansion and the humble cottage. It was curved like the blade of a
+sickle then. Now, its rounded fulness flooded the whole wilderness,
+breaking up its darkness into massive shadows, all the blacker from
+contrast with the struggling illumination.
+
+The waterfall at the head of the lake was so far off that its noise
+gave no interruption to the voices of these two persons when they met,
+for Storms had arrived earlier than the girl, and lay apparently
+asleep on one of the fixed seats, when Judith Hart came in, breathless
+with fast walking, and gave forth sharp expletives of disappointment
+when she supposed the summer-house empty.
+
+"Not here. The wretch--the coward! I knew it--I knew it! He never
+meant to come. Does he think I will trapse all this way, and wait for
+him? If I do, may I--Ha!"
+
+The girl stopped at the door, through which she was angrily repassing,
+with the invective cut short on her lips.
+
+"Hallo! Is it you, Judith? I began to think you wasn't coming, and
+dropped asleep. But, upon my soul, I was dreaming about you all the
+time."
+
+"Here you are!" said the girl, coming slowly back. "How was one to
+know--lying there like a log? That isn't the way one expects to be met
+after a walk like this!"
+
+"Why, what's the matter? The walk is just nothing for an active girl
+like you, but I hope you had no trouble in getting out."
+
+"I've had trouble in everything; nothing but trouble, since I first
+knew you, and I've just come to tell you, that, according to my idea,
+you are a treasonable, traitorous--"
+
+"Judith Hart!"
+
+"Cut that off short. I come here to have my say, and nothing more.
+From this night out you and I are two. Remember that. I'm not to be
+taken in a second time."
+
+Storms arose from the bench, and shook himself, as if he had really
+been asleep.
+
+"What on earth are you grumbling about, Judith Hart? What has a fellow
+been doing since nightfall that you come down upon him with a crash
+like this, after keeping him on the wait in this damp hole till his
+limbs are stiff as ramrods!"
+
+"They'll be stiffer before I'm fool enough to believe you again, you
+may be sure of that."
+
+"Hoity-toity! What's the row? Who has forgotten to fee the barmaid, I
+wonder? Or is it that the mistress begins to suspect that there has
+been more stealing out than she knows of, or I either?"
+
+The young man said this in a half-jeering tone, that drove the girl
+wild.
+
+"You say that! You dare to say that!" drawing her wrathful face close
+to his, till both their evil countenances were defined by the
+moonlight. "I tell you now that such words are as much as your life is
+worth."
+
+Storms laughed, sunk both hands into the pockets of his velveteen
+jacket, and laughed again, leaning against the wall of the old
+summer-house.
+
+"There, there, Judith! Enough of that! I don't want to be tempted into
+doing you a harm; far from it. But neither man nor woman must threaten
+Dick Storms. No one but a lass he is sweet upon would dare do it."
+
+"Dare! I like that!"
+
+"But I don't like it. Once for all, tell me what this is all about."
+
+"You know, as well as I do, that it is everywhere about that you were
+plighted to the girl up yonder when her father was hurt."
+
+"But you know that there isn't a word of truth in it."
+
+"Not true! Not true! Oh, Richard, I have seen with my own eyes."
+
+Judith lifted her finger threateningly, and shook it close to the
+young man's face.
+
+"Well, what have you seen?" questioned Dick, a little hoarsely; and
+even in the moonlight the girl could detect a slow pallor stealing
+over his face.
+
+"I have been at the inn yonder longer than you know of," she said.
+"This isn't the first time I've been in the park at night."
+
+He started back a pace, then turned upon her. The cunning of his
+nature rose uppermost; he spoke to her low and earnestly.
+
+"Then you must know that I don't want the lass, and wouldn't take her
+at any price, though I don't care to say that."
+
+"Perhaps you deny going to the gardener's cottage at all?"
+
+"No, I don't. Why should I? If you were watching me, so much the
+better. I wish you had listened to every word I said to her; hating
+her as you do, it would have done you good, and set all this nonsense
+at rest."
+
+"But you went?"
+
+"Yes, I went."
+
+"And--and--"
+
+"And told her, then and there, that nothing should force me to wed
+her. She had set the old man and the young master to nagging me about
+it. Neither they nor she gave me an hour's peace."
+
+"Oh, Richard! Richard! Is this true?"
+
+"But for my love of you, I might have given in--"
+
+"I don't care that for such love," cried the girl, tearing a leaf of
+ivy from a spray that had crept through the broken window, and dashing
+it to the floor. "I want you to love me better than all the world
+beside. No halving. I want that, and nothing else."
+
+"And haven't you got it? When did you see me walking out with her, or
+meeting her here like this?"
+
+"She wouldn't come."
+
+"Wouldn't she?"
+
+Storms laughed as he repeated the audacious insinuation, "Wouldn't
+she?"
+
+Judith threw off her defiant attitude, and the sharp edge left her
+speech, which became almost appealing.
+
+"Richard Storms! Was it for my sake?"
+
+"I won't answer you; you don't deserve it, suspicioning a fellow like
+that."
+
+"I am sorry."
+
+"Yes, after pushing me on to--to anything rather than be nagged, at
+home and up yonder, about wedding the girl, you come here, when I
+expected a pleasant meeting, with your scolding and threats. It's
+enough to drive a man into marrying out of hand."
+
+"No, no, Dick! You wouldn't do that."
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"You don't know?"
+
+"If you ever try this on again, I may. One doesn't stand threats, even
+from the sweetheart he loves better than everything else--that is, if
+he is a man worth having." "But I didn't threaten you! I only--"
+
+"Said what you must never say again, if you don't want to see me
+wedded down in yon church, with a farm of my own, and a fortune
+waiting, which they are willing to pay down, and ask no questions. A
+pretty lass pining for me too."
+
+"Pretty! Oh, Richard, this is too bad! You have told me a hundred
+times that of the two, I was--"
+
+The girl broke off and turned away her face.
+
+"And I have told you the truth, else they would have had me fast
+before this. Both the young master and the old man were threatening me
+with the law. You might have heard them."
+
+"No. I was never near enough."
+
+"Well, they did, though; and but for you, I might have given in."
+
+"But you never--never will!"
+
+"So long as you keep quiet, I'll stand out."
+
+"Oh, Richard, no mouse was ever so quiet as I will be. Now, say, was
+it all for my sake?"
+
+"What else could it be?"
+
+"I don't know. Only it is so strange. And Richard! Richard! I will die
+before--You understand--I would die rather than harm you."
+
+"That is my own brave lass. Now you are like yourself, and we can part
+friends--better friends than ever."
+
+"Part! It is not so late."
+
+"But the moon is up, and you will be seen by the village people. They
+must have no jibes to cast on my wife when you and I are wed."
+
+The girl's eyes flashed in the moonlight, which came broadly through a
+glass door that led upon the old wooden balcony.
+
+A smile crept over Storms' subtle lips. He was rather proud of his
+victory over this beautiful Amazon. The brilliant loveliness of her
+face in the softening light was so like that of Ruth Jessup, that he
+astonished the handsome virago by taking her head between his hands,
+and kissing her with something like tenderness.
+
+His heart recoiled from this caress the next moment, as the prodigal
+son may have loathed the husks he eat, when he was famishing for corn;
+but Judith sat down upon the hard wooden seat, and covering her face
+with both hands, broke into a passion of delicious tears.
+
+This outbreak of tenderness annoyed the young man, who was hating
+himself for this apostacy from the only pure feeling that had ever
+ennobled his heart, and he said, almost rudely, "Come, come, there is
+nothing to cry about; I am sorry, that's all."
+
+"Sorry!" repeated the girl, lifting her happy, tearful face into the
+moonlight. "Ah, well, I will go home, now. Good-night, if you will not
+go with me a little way."
+
+"We must not be seen together," answered Richard, opening the door for
+her to pass out; "only remember, I have trusted you."
+
+The girl went to the door, hesitated a moment, and stepped back.
+
+"Will you kiss me again, Richard? It shall be the seal of what I
+promised."
+
+"Don't be foolish, girl," said Dick, stooping his head that she might
+kiss him. "You women are all alike; give them an inch and they will
+take an ell. There, there; good-night."
+
+Storms stood behind the half-open door, and watched the barmaid as she
+took the little path which led to the postern gate which Ruth had used
+on the morning of her wedding-day. A key to this gate had been
+intrusted to the young man, and he had duplicated it for the girl who
+had just left him.
+
+When Judith was quite beyond his vision, Storms retired back into the
+summer-house, and examined it with strange scrutiny. There was but one
+window, a single sash that opened into the balcony, answering for a
+second door, which was quite sufficient to light the little apartment.
+Through this window the moonlight fell like a square block of marble,
+barred with shadows. To Storms it took the form of a tombstone lying
+at his feet, and he stepped back with a sort of horror, as if some
+evil thought of his had hardened into stone which he dared not tread
+upon; going cautiously around it, and gliding along the wall, but with
+his eyes turned that way, he escaped from the building.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+THE NEW LEASE.
+
+
+"Sir Noel, farmer Storms is here, wanting to see you about something
+important, he says."
+
+Sir Noel Hurst was sitting in his library, looking and feeling more
+like his old self than he had done for days.
+
+"I will see him presently," he said, almost smiling, "but not quite
+yet. Tell him to wait."
+
+The servant retired, and Sir Noel began to walk up and down the room,
+rubbing his white hands in a gentle, caressing way, as if some joyous
+feeling found expression in the movement. The physician had just left
+him, with an assurance that the son and heir for whose life he had
+trembled was now out of danger. He had heard, too, that William Jessup
+was slowly improving, and the burden of a fearful anxiety was so
+nearly lifted from his heart that he saw the fair form of Lady Rose
+coming through the flower-garden, beneath his window, with a smile of
+absolute pleasure. A flight of stone steps led to the balcony beneath
+the window, and the young lady lingered near them, looking up
+occasionally, as if she longed to ascend, but hesitated.
+
+"Sweet girl! Fair, noble girl," thought Sir Noel, as he looked down
+upon the lovely picture she made, standing there, timid as a child,
+with a glow of freshly-gathered flowers breaking through the muslin of
+her over-skirt, which she used as an apron. "God grant that everything
+may become right between them, now."
+
+Sir Noel stepped to the window with these thoughts in his mind, and
+beckoned the young lady to come up. She caught a glance of his face,
+and her own brightened, as if a cloud had been swept from it. She came
+up the steps swiftly, and paused before the window, which Sir Noel
+flung open.
+
+"I saw the doctor, but dared not question him. You will tell me, Sir
+Noel; but I feel what the news is. You would not have called me had it
+been more than I--than we could bear."
+
+"I would not, indeed, dear child. God knows if I could endure all this
+trouble alone, it would not be so hard."
+
+"I have been down yonder every day, Sir Noel; so early in the morning,
+sometimes, that it seemed as if the poor flowers were weeping with me.
+Oh, how often I have looked up here after the doctors went away,
+hoping that you would have good news, and notice me!"
+
+"I saw you, child, but had no heart to make you more sorrowful."
+
+"Did you think him so fearfully dangerous, then?" questioned the lady,
+with terror in her blue eyes. "I tried to persuade myself that it was
+only my fears. Every morning I came out and gathered such quantities
+of flowers for his room, but he never once noticed them, or me--"
+
+"You! Have you seen him, then?"
+
+A flood of crimson swept that fair face, and the white lids drooped
+over the eyes that sunk beneath his.
+
+"No--no one else could arrange the flowers as he liked them. Once or
+twice--but only when his eyes were closed. I never once disturbed
+him."
+
+"Dear child, how he ought to love you!"
+
+Sir Noel kissed the crimson forehead, which drooped down to the girl's
+uplifted hands, and he knew that the flush, which had first been one
+of maiden shame, was deepened by coming tears.
+
+"There, there, my child, we must not grieve when the doctors give us
+hope for the first time. He is sleeping, they tell me, a calm, natural
+sleep. Go, and arrange these flowers after your own dainty fashion. He
+will notice them when he awakes. Already he has called the doctor by
+name."
+
+"Oh, uncle! dear, dear guardian, is it so?"
+
+The girl fell upon her knees by a great easy-chair that stood by, and
+the blossoms, no longer supported by her hand, fell in glowing masses
+around her as she gave way to such happy sobs as had never shaken her
+frame before. At last she looked up, smiling through her tears.
+
+"Is it really, really true?" she questioned, shaking the drops from
+her face.
+
+"Go, and see for yourself, Rose."
+
+"But he might awake, he might know."
+
+"That an angel is in his room? Well, it will do him no harm, nor you
+either."
+
+Lady Rose looked down at the flowers that lay scattered around her,
+and gathered them into the muslin of her dress again. She was smiling,
+now, yet trembling from head to foot. Would he know her? Would the
+perfume of her flowers awaken some memory in his mind of the days when
+they had made play-houses in the thickets, and pelted each other with
+roses, in childish warfare? How cold and distant he had been to her of
+late! Would he awake to his old self? Would she ever be able to
+approach him again without that miserable shrinking sensation?
+
+"Sir Noel," she said, "I think my own father would never have been so
+kind to me as you are."
+
+"I am glad you think so, child, for that was what I promised him on
+his death-bed. That and more, which God grant I may be able to carry
+out."
+
+"I cannot remember him," said Lady Rose, shaking her head, as if weary
+with some mental effort.
+
+"No; he left us when you were a little child. But we must not talk of
+this now."
+
+"I know! I know! Just a moment since I was in such haste. Now I feel
+like putting it off. Isn't it strange?"
+
+Sir Noel understood better than that fair creature herself the
+significance of all these tremors and hesitations. Now that his first
+fears were at rest, they both touched and amused him, and a smile rose
+to his lips as she glided from the room, leaving a cloud of sweet
+odors behind her.
+
+Into this delicate perfume old farmer Storms came a few minutes after,
+looking stolid, grim, and clumsily awkward. The nails of his heavy
+shoes sunk into the carpet at every step, and his fustian garments
+contrasted coarsely with the rich cushions and sumptuous draperies of
+the room.
+
+"Well, Sir Noel, I've come about the new lease, if you've no
+objection. I want your word upon it; being o'er anxious on the young
+man's account."
+
+"Why, Storms, has there been any disagreement between you and the
+bailiff? It has always been my orders that the old tenants should have
+preference when a lease dropped in."
+
+"Well, as to that, Sir Noel, it isn't so much the lease itself that
+troubles one; but Dick and I want it at a lighter rent, and we would
+like a new house on the grounds agin the time when the lad will get
+wed, and want a roof of his own. That is what we've been thinking of,
+Sir Noel."
+
+"A new house?" said Sir Noel, astonished. "Why, Storms, yours is the
+best on the place. It was built for a dower house."
+
+"Aye, aye! I know that; but as our Dick says, no house is big enough
+or good enough for two families. The lad is looking up in the world a
+bit of late. He means to take more land; that is why I come about the
+lease; and we shall give up our home to him and his wife."
+
+"Indeed!" said Sir Noel. "What has he been doing to warrant this
+extraordinary start in the world?"
+
+"Something that he means to keep to himself yet a while, he says, but
+it is sure, if things turn out rightly. So I want a promise of the
+lease, and all the other things, while the iron is hot. He told me to
+say nothing about it, only to ask, in a civil way, if the young master
+had come to his senses yet, or was likely to. He is awful fond of the
+young master, is my son, and sends me o'er, or comes himself to the
+lodge every day to hear about him. He would be put about sorely if he
+knew that I had let on about the house just yet; but I can see no good
+in waiting. You will kindly bear it in mind that we shall want a deal
+more than the lease. Dick says he's sure to have it, one way or
+another; and a rare lad for getting his own will is our Dick."
+
+There was something strange in the extravagance of this request, that
+made the baronet thoughtful. He felt the stolid assumption of the old
+man, but did not resent it. Some undercurrent of apprehension kept him
+prudent. He only replied quietly, "Well, Storms, the lease is not out
+yet. There is plenty of time," and, with a wave of the hand,
+dismissed the old man.
+
+In the hall Storms was astonished to find his son waiting, apparently
+careless, though his eyes gleamed with suppressed wrath. He followed
+the old man out, and once under the shelter of the park, turned upon
+him.
+
+"What were you doing in there?"
+
+"Nothing, Dick! Only asking after the young master, and talking a bit
+with the baronet."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII.
+
+SHARPER THAN A SERPENT'S TOOTH.
+
+
+Young Storms was very restless after his midnight interview with
+Judith Hart, and became feverishly so when he discovered that the
+elder Storms had begun to move in his affairs more promptly than he
+desired. He walked on by the old farmer with a frown on his face, and
+only spoke when his own footsteps bore him ahead of the stronger and
+more deliberate stride, which goaded his impatience into anger. There
+was, indeed, a striking contrast between the two men, which even a
+difference in age could not well account for. Old Storms was a
+stoutish man, round in the shoulders, slouching in his walk, and of a
+downcast countenance, in which a good deal of inert ability lay
+dormant. There was something of the son's cunning in his eye, and
+animal craving about the mouth, but if the keen venom which repulsed
+you in the younger man ever existed in the father, it had become too
+sluggish for active wickedness, except, perhaps, as the subordinate of
+some more powerful nature.
+
+That nature the old man had fostered in his own family, of which
+Richard was the absolute head, before he became of legal age. If the
+old man had been a tyrant over the boy, as many fathers of his class
+are supposed to be in the mother land, Richard avenged his youth fully
+when it merged into manhood. As the two walked together across the
+park, toward their own farm, it was pitiful to see such gleams of
+anxiety in that old man's eyes, whenever they were furtively lifted to
+the stern face of the son.
+
+Once, when Dick got ahead of his father, walking swiftly in his wiry
+activity, he paused, and cut a sapling up by the roots with his heavy
+pruning-knife, and stood, with a grim smile on his face, trimming off
+the small branches, and measuring it into a slender walking-stick.
+
+"Art doing that for me, lad?" said the old man, in a voice that did
+not sound quite natural. "Nay, nay, I am not old enough for a stick
+yet a while. My old bones aren't so limber as thine, maybe; but
+they'll do for me many a year yet, never fear."
+
+The young man made no answer, but smiled coldly, as he shook the
+sapling with a vigor that made the air whistle around him. Then he
+walked on, polishing up the knots daintily with his knife as he moved.
+
+"More'n that," continued the old man, eying his son wistfully; "there
+isn't toughness enough there for a walking-stick, which should be
+something to lean on."
+
+"It'll do," answered Dick, closing his knife, and thrusting it deep
+into his pocket. "It'll do, for want of a better."
+
+"Ha, ha," laughed the old man, so hoarsely that his voice seemed to
+break into a timid bark. "That was what I used ter say when you were a
+lad, and I made you cut sticks to be lathered with. Many a time the
+twig that you brought wouldn't hurt a dormouse. Ah, lad, lad, you were
+always a cunning one."
+
+"Was I?" said Dick. "Well, beating begets cunning, I dare say."
+
+By this time they were getting into the thick of the wilderness, a
+portion of the park little frequented, and in which the lonely lake we
+have spoken of lay like a pool of ink, the shadows fell so blackly
+upon it.
+
+Here Richard verged out of the usual path, and struck through the most
+gloomy portion of the woods. After a moment's hesitation, the old man
+followed him, muttering that the other path was nearest, but that did
+not matter.
+
+When the two had left the lake behind them, Richard stopped, and
+wheeling suddenly around, faced his father.
+
+"Now, once for all, tell me what took you to 'The Rest' this morning;
+for, mark me, I'm bound to know."
+
+"I--I have told ye once, Dick. I have--"
+
+"A lie. You have told me that, and nought else."
+
+"Dick, Dick, mind, it's your father you are putting the lie on," said
+the old man, kindling up so fiercely that his stooping figure rose
+erect, and his eyes shone beneath their heavy brows like water under a
+bank thick with rushes.
+
+"What took you up yonder, I say?" was the curt answer. "I want the
+truth, and mean to have it out of you before we go a stride farther.
+Do you understand, now?"
+
+"I went to ask after the young maister," was the sullen reply.
+
+"The truth! I will have the truth--so out with it, before I do you a
+harm!"
+
+"Before ye do your old father a harm! Nay, nay, lad, it has no come to
+that."
+
+Dick bent the sapling almost double, and let it recoil with a vicious
+snap, a significant answer that kindled the old man's wrath so
+fiercely that he seized upon the offending stick, placed one end under
+his foot, and twisted it apart with a degree of fury that startled the
+son out of his sneering insolence.
+
+"Now what hast got to say to your father, Dick? Speak out; but
+remember that I am that, and shall be till you get to be the strongest
+man."
+
+The thin features of Richard Storms turned white, and his eyes shone.
+He had depended too much, it seemed, on the withering influence his
+insolent overbearance had produced on the old man, whose will and
+strength had at last been aroused by the audacious threat wielded in
+that sapling. Whether he really would have degraded the old farmer
+with a blow or not, is uncertain; but, once aroused, the stout old man
+was more than a match for his son, and the force of habit came back
+upon him so powerfully, that he began to roll up the cuffs of his
+fustian jacket, as if preparing for an onset.
+
+"Say out what there is in you, and do it gingerly, or you'll soon find
+out who is maister here," the old man said, with all the rough
+authority of former times.
+
+The young man looked into his father's face with a glance made keen by
+surprise. Then his features relaxed, and he burst into a hoarse laugh.
+
+"Why, father, did you think I was about doing you a harm with that bit
+of ash? It was for a goad to the cattle I was smoothing it off."
+
+"Ah!" ejaculated the old man.
+
+"But you have twisted it to a wisp now."
+
+"That I have, and rare glad I am of it."
+
+"It don't matter," said the son. "I can find plenty more about here.
+But the thing we were talking of. Did Sir Noel kick in the traces when
+ye came down upon him about the lease?"
+
+A gleam of the young man's own cunning crept into the father's eyes.
+
+"The lease, Dick? Haven't I said it was the young maister's health
+that took me to 'The Rest?'"
+
+Richard made a gesture that convulsed his whole frame, and, jerking
+one hand forward, exclaimed, "It was for your own good, father, that I
+asked; so I don't see why you keep things so close."
+
+"An' I don't know why a child of mine should ask questions of his own
+father like a schoolmaster, or as if he were ready for a bout at
+fisticuffs," answered the old man.
+
+"It's a way one gets among the grooms and gamekeepers; but it means
+nothing," was the pacific answer. "I was only afraid you might have
+dropped a word about what I told you of, and that would have done
+mischief."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+"Just now, father, half a word might spoil everything."
+
+"Half a word! Well, well, there was nought said that could do harm.
+Just a hint about the lease, nothing more. There, now, ye have it all.
+A fair question at the first would ha' saved all this bother."
+
+"Are you sure this was all?" asked the young man, eying his father
+closely.
+
+"Aye. Sure."
+
+"Hush! One of the gamekeepers is coming."
+
+"Aye, aye."
+
+Old Storms moved forward, as the intruder came up with a pair of birds
+in his hands, which he was carrying to "The Rest."
+
+Richard remained behind, for the man met him with a broad grin, as if
+some good joke were on his mind.
+
+"Good-morrow to ye," he said, dropping the birds upon a bed of grass,
+as if preparing for a long gossip.
+
+"Dost know I came a nigh peppering thee a bit yon night, thinking it
+war some poachers after the birds; but I soon found out it was a bit
+of sweethearting on the sly? Oh, Dick, Dick! thou'lt get shot some
+night."
+
+"Sweethearting! I don't know what you mean, Jacob."
+
+"Ye don't know that there was a pretty doe roving about the wilderness
+one night this week, just at the time ye passed through it?"
+
+"Me, me?"
+
+"Aye. No mistake. I saw ye with my own eyes in the moonlight."
+
+"In the moonlight? Where?"
+
+"Oh, in the upper path, nearest thy own home."
+
+Richard drew a deep breath.
+
+"Ah, that! I thought you said by the lake."
+
+"Nay, it was the lass I saw, taking covert there."
+
+"What lass? I saw none!"
+
+"Ha, ha!" laughed the gamekeeper, placing a hand on each knee, and
+stooping down to look into his companion's eyes. "What war she there
+for, then? Tell me that."
+
+"How should I know?"
+
+"And what wert thou doing in the wilderness?"
+
+"What, I? Passing through it like an honest Christian, on my way home
+from the village."
+
+"Well, now, that is strange! Dost know, I got half a look at the doe's
+face, and dang me! if I didn't think it was Jessup's lass."
+
+A quick thought shot through that subtle brain. Why not accept the
+mistake, throw the reputation of the girl who had scorned him into the
+power of this man, and thus claim the triumph of having cast her off
+when the certainty of her final rejection came? After a moment's
+silence, and appearing to falter, he said:
+
+"You--you saw her, then? You know that it was Ruth Jessup?"
+
+"Ha! ha! Have I run ye to covert? Yes, I a'most saw her face; an' as
+to the figure, any man, with half an eye, would know that. There isn't
+another loike it within fifty miles o' 'The Rest.'"
+
+"Well, well, Jacob, as you saw her and me so close, I'll not deny it.
+A lass will get fractious, you know, when a fellow is expected, and
+don't come up to time, and follow one up, you understand. We have been
+sweethearting so long, and the old ones being agreeable, perhaps she
+is a trifle over restless about my hanging back."
+
+"Aye, aye. This story about the young maister being o'er fond of her.
+I wouldn't put up with that."
+
+Storms nodded his head mysteriously.
+
+"You'll say nothing about her coming to seek me that night."
+
+"In course not. Only I wouldn't a thought it of Jessup's lass, she
+looks so modest like."
+
+"But when a lass is--is--"
+
+"O'er fond, and afraid of losing her sweetheart. Still, I wouldn't a
+thought it of her anyhow."
+
+"You're not to think hard of her for anything, friend Jacob, because
+we may be wed after all, and no one must have a fling at my wife, mind
+that. When I give her up will be time enough."
+
+The gamekeeper laughed, and nodded his head, perhaps amused at the
+idea that a bit of gossip, like that, could escape circulation, in a
+place already excited on the subject of Jessup and his daughter.
+Storms having given the impression he desired, took a watch from his
+pocket, and glanced at the dial.
+
+"It's wonderful how time flits," he said, putting the watch back.
+"It's near dinner-time, and the old man will be waiting. Mind that you
+keep a close mouth. Good-day!"
+
+"Good-day ter ye," responded the gamekeeper, picking up his birds, and
+smoothing their mottled feathers as he went along. "I wouldn't a
+thought it of yon lass, though, not if the parson himself had told me.
+That I wouldn't."
+
+Meantime young Storms walked toward home, smiling, nay, at times,
+laughing, as he went. The cruel treachery of his conversation with the
+keeper filled him with vicious delight. He knew well enough that the
+whole subject would be made the gossip of every house in the village
+within twenty-four hours, and revelled in the thought. If it were
+possible for him to marry Ruth in the end, this scandal would be of
+little importance to him; if not, it should be made to sting her, and
+poison the returning life of young Hurst. Under any circumstances, it
+was an evil inspiration, over which he gloated triumphantly.
+
+So full was the young plotter's brain of this idea, that he was
+unconscious of the rapidity with which he approached home, until the
+farm-house hove in view, a long, stone building sheltered by
+orchards, flanked by outhouses, and clothed to the roof with rare old
+ivy. It was, in truth, something better than a common farm-dwelling,
+for an oriel window jutted out here, a stone balcony there, and the
+sunken entrance-door was of solid oak; such as might have given access
+to "The Rest" itself.
+
+There had been plenty of shrubbery, with a bright flower-garden in
+front, and on one side of the house; but of the first, there was only
+a scattering and ragged bush left to struggle for life, here and
+there, while every sweet blossom of the past had given way to coarse
+garden vegetables, which were crowded into less and less space each
+year, by fields of barley or corn, that covered what had once been a
+pretty lawn and park.
+
+"Ah, if I could but get this in fee simple. If he had died I might!"
+thought the young man, as he walked round to the back door. "If he had
+only died!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV.
+
+THE SICK MAN WRITES A LETTER.
+
+
+William Jessup seemed to be getting better rapidly after those few
+words with Ruth, that had lifted a mountain of pain from his heart,
+pain deeper and keener than the biting anguish of his wound, or the
+fever which preyed upon him continually, though he scarcely felt it,
+now that the anguish of mind was gone.
+
+"I shall be better, I shall be quite well, only let me get one word to
+him. He is so rash. Ah, when that is done, I can rest a little," he
+kept thinking to himself, for the subject seemed so distasteful to
+Ruth that he shrunk from naming it to her. "If the old man Storms
+would but come, I might trust him; but he always sends that lad, who
+frightens Ruth. Poor child, poor child!"
+
+Ruth was sitting by her father's bed when these thoughts possessed
+him, and broke out in a tremulous exclamation, his eyes fastened
+tenderly on her.
+
+"What is it, father? What are you thinking of? Nothing ails me. I must
+not be pitied at all while you are ill, or only because of that. What
+are you thinking about?"
+
+"Only this, Ruthy. Don't let it bother you, though. Only, if I could
+get a word to the young master--"
+
+Ruth shrunk visibly from the anxious eyes bent upon her, but forced
+herself to answer, calmly, "If I could see him one minute, alone. Oh,
+if I could," she said, clasping the hands in her lap till the blood
+fled from them, "but it would be of no use trying."
+
+All at once Jessup rose from his pillow, but leaned back again,
+gasping for breath.
+
+"Put another pillow under my head, and prop me up a bit. I will write
+a line with my own hand. I wonder we never thought of it before. Bring
+me a pen, and the ink-bottle. The big Bible, too, from yon table. It
+will be all the better for that."
+
+Ruth obeyed him at once. Why had she never thought of this? Surely a
+letter could be got to that sick-chamber without danger. That, at
+least, would relieve her father's anxiety, and remind Hurst of her.
+
+Why had she never thought of it before? That was not strange; Jessup
+was no letter writer, and, save a few figures, now and then, Ruth had
+not seen him use a pen half a dozen times in her life. It seemed a
+marvel to her even then that he should undertake so unusual a task.
+
+The girl had a pretty desk of her own, otherwise a supply of ink and
+paper might have been wanting. As it was, she brought both to her
+father's bed, and arranged the great Bible before him, that he might
+use them at once.
+
+At any time it would have been a severe task that the gardener had
+undertaken; but now his weak fingers shook so fearfully that he was
+compelled to lay the pen down at every word, almost in despair. But
+the great heart gave his hand both strength and skill. After many
+pauses for rest, and struggles for breath, a few lines were written,
+and this was what they said:
+
+     MY DEAR YOUNG MASTER :--Have no fear about me. I have sworn, in
+     soul, before Almighty God, to keep all that is within me a
+     secret forever. No law and no blame shall ever reach you
+     through me. Oh, that my eyes had been struck blind before they
+     saw your face that night, when you shot me down! I would have
+     groped in darkness to my grave, rather than have seen what I
+     did. Sometimes I think it must have been all a dream. But it
+     haunts me so--it haunts me so. Your father saved my life once.
+     Maybe I am saving his now. I hope so. Do not fear about me. I
+     shall not be more silent in death than I am in life.
+                                                    WILLIAM JESSUP
+
+Many a misspelt word did this short epistle contain. Many an uncouth
+letter that linked sentences running riot with each other; but the
+spirit of a high resolve was there, and the good man exhausted the
+little strength left to him in writing it.
+
+"You will seal this," he whispered, hoarsely, giving her the paper to
+fold and direct. "Some one will take it to him."
+
+"Yes, I will go. He shall get it. How, I do not know; but if he is
+well enough to read it, the paper shall reach him."
+
+"And no one else. Remember that."
+
+"I will remember. Oh, father, what is this terrible thing?"
+
+"Be silent, Ruth. I will not have you question me."
+
+"Forgive me, father."
+
+"Yes, yes."
+
+The poor man spoke in painful gasps. The old Bible seemed to bear him
+down; he struggled under the weight, but could not remove it.
+
+Ruth lifted the book in her arms, settled the pillows under her
+father's head, and would have stayed by him, but he motioned her away.
+
+Oh, how precious, yet how perilous that paper seemed to the poor girl!
+He would touch it. His eyes would follow the jagged lines. They would
+bring assurance of safety to him. He might even guess that she had
+been the messenger through whom it had reached him. She did not
+understand the meaning of this important scrawl. With regard to that,
+her mind was swayed by vague uncertainties, but she knew that it was
+pacific, and intended for good.
+
+Ruth tied on her bonnet, and set forth for "The Rest" at once, with
+the precious letter in her bosom, over which she folded her scarlet
+sacque with additional caution.
+
+"Perhaps--perhaps I shall see him. It might have meant nothing, after
+all. He could not be so false. Lady Rose is like a sister to him, that
+is all! I am so foolish to care; so very, very foolish. But, then,
+how can I help it?"
+
+The day was so beautiful, that such hopeful thoughts came to Ruth with
+the very atmosphere she breathed. The birds were singing all around
+her, and a thousand summer insects filled the air with music. Coming,
+as she did, from the close seclusion of a sick-room, all these things
+thrilled her with fresh vigor. Her step was light as she walked. The
+breath melted like wine on her red lips. Once or twice she paused to
+snatch a handful of violets from the grass, and drank up their perfume
+thirstily.
+
+At last she came out into the luxurious beauty of the pleasure-grounds
+close to "The Rest," and from thence, looked up to the window where
+her young husband lay, all unconscious of her coming. Perhaps she had
+hoped that he might be well enough to sit up. Certainly, when she saw
+no one at the window, her heart sunk, and a deep sigh escaped her. It
+would not do to be found there by any of the household. She felt that,
+and bent her steps towards the servants' entrance, heavy-hearted and
+irresolute.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV.
+
+WITH THE HOUSEKEEPER.
+
+
+The housekeeper was more than usually busy that day, but she greeted
+her favorite with affectionate warmth. "You there, my poppet," she
+said, seating herself for a talk. "I have been wondering why you kept
+away so long, now that the doctors tell me that your father is coming
+round."
+
+"I wished to come, godmother. Indeed, I never stopped thinking about
+you here; but there is no one to stay by father when I leave him, and
+he needs care."
+
+"Of course he does, and something else as well. I was just putting up
+a bottle or two of our choice old Madeira, with some jellies, and the
+cook is roasting a bird, which he must eat with the black
+currant-jelly, remember. We must build your father up, now, with nice,
+strengthening things. They would do you no harm, either, child. Why,
+how thin and worried you look, Ruth! This constant nursing will break
+you down. We must send over one of the maids, to help."
+
+"No, no; I can do very well. Father is used to me, you know. Only, if
+you wish to be kind--"
+
+"Wish to be kind? Did I ever fail in that, goddaughter?"
+
+"Did you ever? Indeed, no. Only I am always asking such out-of-the-way
+things."
+
+"Well, well. What is it, now?"
+
+"I have a letter from my father to--to the young master."
+
+"From your father? When did he ever write a letter before, I wonder?
+And he sick in bed? A letter--"
+
+"That I want to deliver into Wal--into Mr. Hurst's own hands, if you
+will only help me, godmother."
+
+"Into his own hands? As if any other trusty person wouldn't do as
+well," said the housekeeper, discontentedly.
+
+"But I should not be so certain, godmother."
+
+"Ah, true. Is the letter so important, then?"
+
+"I--I don't know, exactly. Only father was very particular about it."
+
+"Well, give me the letter. I will see that he gets it safe."
+
+Ruth still pressed her hand against her bosom, and a look of piteous
+disappointment broke into her eyes.
+
+"Is he so very ill, then? Might I not just see him for a minute, and
+take the answer back?"
+
+"The young master is better, but not half so well as he strives to be.
+I never saw any one so crazy to get out."
+
+"Is he--is he, though?"
+
+"And about your father. He is always questioning me if I have heard
+from the cottage."
+
+"Indeed!"
+
+"Why, child, how chirpish you speak, all at once! I hardly knew your
+voice. But what was I saying? Ah, I remember. Yes, yes! The young
+master scarcely got back his speech before he began to question us
+about Jessup, whose hurt seems to wound him more than his own. To
+pacify him Lady Rose sent round every morning."
+
+"Lady Rose! Did the messengers come from her?" questioned Ruth, and
+her voice sunk again.
+
+"Of course. Sir Noel, in his trouble, might have forgotten; but she
+never did. Ah, goddaughter, that young lady is one in a thousand, so
+gentle, so lovely, so--"
+
+"Yes, yes! I know--I know!"
+
+"Such a match as they will make."
+
+Ruth turned very pale; still a singular smile crept over her lips. She
+said nothing, however, but walked to a window, and looked out, as if
+fascinated by the rich masses of ivy that swept an angle of the
+building like black drapery.
+
+"How the ivy thrives on that south wall!" she said, at last. "I can
+remember when it was only a stem."
+
+"Of course you can; for I planted it on the day you were born, with my
+own hands. There has been time enough for it to spread. Why, it has
+crept round to the young master's window. He would have it trained
+that way."
+
+"Godmother, how good you are!"
+
+"Not a bit of it, child. Only I was always careful of that ivy. Ruth's
+ivy, we always call it, because of the day it was planted."
+
+"Did--did any one else call it so?"
+
+"Of course, or the young master would never have known of it. 'Let me
+have,' says he, 'just a branch or two of your ivy--what is its name,
+now?--for my corner of the house.' Well, of course, I told him its
+name, and how it came by it, which he said was a pretty name for ivy,
+or any other beautiful thing, and from that day a thrifty branch was
+trained over to the balcony where he sits most, and sometimes smokes
+of an evening."
+
+"Yes, I remember," said Ruth, breaking into smiles. "Some climbing
+roses are tangled with it."
+
+"True enough; they throve so fast, that between them, the little
+stone-steps that run up to the balcony were hid out of sight; but Lady
+Rose found them out, and carries her flowers that way from the garden
+when she fills the vases in his room."
+
+"She always did that, I suppose," said Ruth, in a low voice.
+
+"Most likely," answered the housekeeper, carelessly, as if that young
+creature did not hang on every word she uttered with unutterable
+anxiety. "Most likely. There is little else that she can do for him
+just now."
+
+"Does he need so very much help now, godmother?"
+
+"None that a dainty young lady can give; but when he begins to sit up,
+her time will come. Then she will sit and read to him from morning
+till night, and enjoy it too."
+
+"And tire him dreadfully," muttered Ruth, with a dash of natural
+bitterness in her voice.
+
+"I don't know. Anyway I shouldn't care about it; but people
+vary--people vary, Ruth! You will find that out as you get along in
+life. People vary!"
+
+"Yes, I dare say," answered Ruth, quite unconscious of speaking at
+all. "You are very wise in saying so."
+
+"Ah, wisdom comes with age; generally too late for much good. If one
+could have it now in the wild-oat season; but that isn't to be
+expected. Speaking of Lady Rose, here comes her pony-carriage, and
+here comes herself, with Sir Noel, to put her in. Do you know, Ruth, I
+don't think the master has been quite himself since that night. There
+is an anxious look in his eyes that I never saw there before. It
+should go away now that Mr. Walton is better, but somehow it don't."
+
+Ruth did not answer. She was looking through the window at the group
+of persons that stood near a pony-carriage, perfect in all its
+equipments, which was in front of the house. Lady Rose, who had come
+down the steps leisurely, side by side with Sir Noel, was loitering a
+little, as if she waited for something. She examined the buttons of
+her gloves, and arranged her draperies, all the while casting furtive
+glances up to a window, at which no one seemed to appear, as she had
+hoped. Sir Noel, too, glanced up once or twice, rather wistfully, and
+then Ruth saw that his face did indeed wear a look that was almost
+haggard.
+
+"Tell me--tell me! Is he so very ill yet, that his father looks like
+that?" cried Ruth, struck by a sudden pang of distrust. "I thought he
+was getting better."
+
+"And so he is, child. Who said to the contrary? But that doesn't take
+the black cloud out of his father's face."
+
+"Then he really is better?"
+
+"Better? Why, he sat up an hour yesterday."
+
+"Did he--did he, indeed?" cried Ruth, joyfully. "Did he really?"
+
+"He did, really, and our lady reading to him all the time."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+"What did you say, child?"
+
+"Nothing, nothing! But see, they are both going, I think!"
+
+The housekeeper swayed her heavy person toward the window, and looked
+out.
+
+"Yes. Lady Rose is persuading Sir Noel, who can refuse nothing she
+wants. It almost seems as if he were in love with her himself."
+
+"Perhaps he is!" cried Ruth, eagerly.
+
+"One might suspect as much, if one did not know," answered the
+housekeeper, shaking her head. "Anyway, he is going with her now, and
+I'm glad of it. The ride will do him good. Look, she drives off at a
+dashing pace."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI.
+
+UNDER THE IVY.
+
+
+Ruth needed no recommendation to watch the beautiful little vehicle
+that flashed down the avenue, a perfect nest of bright colors, over
+which the sunlight shone with peculiar resplendence, while the
+spirited black horse whirled it out of sight.
+
+"Isn't she fit for a queen?" said Mrs. Mason, triumphantly, as she
+wheeled round, and sought her chair again.
+
+Ruth heard, but did not answer. A man was passing across the lawn, who
+occupied her full attention.
+
+"Isn't that Mr. Webb?" she questioned.
+
+Mrs. Mason half lifted herself out of the chair she was always
+reluctant to leave, and having obtained a view of the man, settled
+back again.
+
+"Yes, that is Webb; and I say, Ruth, you had better follow, and give
+him that letter. He will be going back to the young master's room, in
+less than half an hour. He only leaves it to get a mouthful of air at
+any time. Your letter is sure of a safe delivery with Webb."
+
+"Thank you--thank you! It will be best. Good-morning, godmother!
+good-morning!"
+
+A swift clasp of two arms about her neck, a fluttering kiss on her
+lips, and the good woman was left alone, resting back in her
+easy-chair, with half-closed eyes, while a bland smile hovered over
+her plump mouth.
+
+"What a loving little soul it is!" she muttered. "Peaches, ripe for
+preserving, are not sweeter; and as for inward goodness, she has not
+her match in the three kingdoms."
+
+Mrs. Mason might not have been quite so tranquil had she seen Ruth
+just then, for, with the speed of a lapwing, she had turned an angle
+of the house, where her own namesake, the ivy, had already clambered,
+wreathing a carved stone balcony with its greenness. Scarcely pausing
+to breathe, she pushed the vines aside, and treading some of the
+tender twigs under her feet, flew up the narrow steps which were but
+just made visible under the wreathing masses of foliage.
+
+"If she can mount them, I will find the way," was her swift and
+half-triumphant thought. "Oh, Heaven grant that the window is
+unfastened!"
+
+Her foot was on the carved work of the balcony; her scarlet jacket
+gleamed through the plate-glass, and flashed its vivid red through the
+clustering ivy leaves. Breathless with excitement, she tried the
+window-sash with her hand. It gave way, and swung inward with a faint
+jar. She was in the room with her husband, yet afraid to approach him.
+There he was, lying upon a low couch, wrapped in the folds of an
+oriental dressing-gown, and pillowed on a cushion of silk, embroidered
+in so many rich colors, that the contrast made his white face ghastly.
+
+What if, after all, he did not love her? What if he should wake up
+alarmed, and made angry by her intrusion?
+
+There is no feeling known to a woman's heart so timid, so unreasoning,
+so exacting, as love: pride, devotion, humility--a dozen contending
+elements--come into action when that one passion is disturbed, and it
+would be rashness to say which of these emotions may predominate at
+any given time. Perfect confidence either in herself or the creature
+of her love is unusual in most characters--impossible in some.
+
+Ruth had entered that room full of enthusiasm, ready to dare anything;
+but the sight of a sleeping man, one that she loved, too, with
+overpowering devotion, was enough to make a coward of her in a single
+moment. Still, like a bird fascinated by the glittering vibrations of
+a serpent, she drew toward the couch, and bent over the sleeper,
+holding her own breath, and smiling softly as his passed over her
+parted lips.
+
+Ah, how pale he was! How the shadows came and went across his white
+forehead! Was he angry with her even in his sleep? Did he know how
+near she was, and resent it?
+
+No, no! If he knew anything in that profound slumber, the knowledge
+was pleasant, for a smile stole over his face, and some
+softly-whispered words trembled from his lips.
+
+"My darling! oh, my darling!"
+
+Ruth dropped on her knees by the bed, and pressed both hands to her
+mouth, thus smothering the cry of joy that rose to it. Her movements
+had been noiseless as the flutter of a bird--so noiseless that the
+sleeper was not disturbed. After a while she lifted her head, stole
+her arms timidly over that sleeping form, and dropped a kiss, light as
+the fall of a rose-leaf, on those parted lips.
+
+"Oh, my love, my love," she murmured, in sounds scarcely louder than a
+thought. "Look at me, look at me, if it is only for one moment."
+
+Hurst opened his eyes, and smiling vaguely, as sick men smile in
+dreams. That instant a noise was heard at the door, footsteps and
+voices. Ruth snatched the letter from her bosom, crushed it into the
+invalid's hand, left a passionate kiss with it, and fled out of the
+window, and down the ivy-choked steps. There, trembling and
+frightened, she shrunk into an angle of the stone window-case, and
+dragging the ivy over her, strove to hide herself until some chance of
+escaping across the garden offered. She had left the sash open in her
+haste, and could hear sounds from the room above with tolerable
+distinctness. The first was the sharp exclamation of a man's voice. He
+seemed to be walking hurriedly across the room, and spoke in strong
+remonstrance.
+
+"What, up, Mr. Walton, trying to walk, and the window wide open upon
+you? What will the doctor say? What shall I answer to Lady Rose, who
+bade me watch by you every minute, till she came back?"
+
+Some faint words, in a voice that thrilled poor Ruth to the soul,
+seemed to be given in reply to this expostulation. But, listen as she
+would, the meaning escaped her.
+
+Then a louder voice spoke again.
+
+"Ah, but how am I to answer to her ladyship, or Sir Noel, either?
+
+"'Webb,' says she, 'they will all have it so. I must take the air, or
+be shut out from here when I am really most needed. But you will not
+leave him? There must be some one to answer when he speaks.'
+
+"Well, I promised her. If any one could gainsay a wish of my Lady
+Rose, that one isn't old Webb. But you were sleeping so sweetly, sir,
+and I knew that the first word would be about Jessup: so I ran over to
+get the news about him."
+
+Here a hurried question was asked, in which Ruth distinguished her own
+name.
+
+"Nay, nay. The girl was away somewhere, no doubt, for I found the
+doors locked, and could get no sight of any one. But let me shut this
+window, the air will be too cold."
+
+There seemed to be some protest, and a good-natured dispute, in which
+the sick man prevailed, for directly the couch on which he lay was
+wheeled up to the window, and Ruth caught one glimpse of an eager face
+looking out.
+
+The girl would have given her life to run up those steps again, and
+whisper one word to the man whom she felt was watching for her. She
+did creep out from her covert, and had mounted a step, when Webb
+spoke again.
+
+"Nay, nay, sir. This will never do. The window must be closed. An east
+wind is blowing."
+
+A noise of the closing window followed, and with a sigh Ruth shrunk
+back to her shelter against the wall, disappointed, but trembling all
+over with the happiness of having seen him.
+
+What cared she for Lady Rose then? Had he not looked into her eyes
+with the old, fond glance? Had he not reached out his arms in a quick
+passion of delight as she fled from him? Was he not her husband, her
+own, own husband?
+
+There, in the very midst of her fright, and her newly-fledged joy, the
+young wife drew the wedding-ring from her bosom, and kissed it,
+rapturously murmuring:
+
+"He loves me! He loves me! and what else do I care for? Nothing,
+nothing, in the wide wide, world!"
+
+But in the midst of this unreasoning outburst, poor Ruth remembered
+the father she had left a wounded prisoner in the cottage, and a spasm
+of pain shot through her. Ah, if she were sure, if she were only sure
+that no secret was kept from her there. But it must be right. Some
+great misunderstanding had arisen to distress her father beyond the
+pain of his wounds. But when the two beings she most loved on earth
+were well enough to meet and explain, all would be clear and bright
+again. Her husband had the letter safe in his hands. She would go home
+at once, and tell her father that, and afterward steal off alone, and
+feast on the happiness that made her very breath a joy.
+
+Out, through the rose-thickets, the clustering honeysuckles, and the
+beds of blooming flowers, Ruth stole, like a bee, overladen with
+honey, and carried her happiness back to the cottage.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII.
+
+A STORM AT THE TWO RAVENS.
+
+
+"Judith Hart, will ye just carry the ale-cans a little more on the
+balance? Can't ye mind that the foam is dripping like suds over yer
+hands, and wetting the sand on the floor till it's all in puddles?"
+
+This sharp remonstrance came from the mistress of the house in which
+Judith was barmaid, and chief attraction. The public-room was crowded
+that night, not only with its old guests, but by strangers on their
+way from a neighboring town, where a monthly fair was held. The girl
+gave her head a toss, as this reprimand pointed out her delinquency,
+and sat the two ale-cups she carried down upon the nearest table, with
+a dash that sent both foam and beer running over it in ruddy rivulets.
+
+"If you're not pleased with the way I serve customers, there's plenty
+more that would be glad of doing it better. I'm not to be clamored at,
+anyway, so long as there's other places ready for me."
+
+"An' a pretty prize they'd get!" rejoined the landlady, putting her
+hands a-kimbo, and nodding her head with such angry vehemence, that
+the borders of her cap rose and fluttered like the feathers of a
+rageful bantam. "It's all well enough while there's none of the
+better-to-do sort wanting to be served; but when they come!
+Hoity-toity! My lady tosses her head at commoners, and scorns to heed
+the knock of a workman's can on the table, as if she were a born
+princess, and he a beggar. I can tell ye what, lass, this wasn't the
+way I got to be mistress, after serving from a girl at the tap."
+
+"And what if I didn't care that forever being mistress of a place like
+this!" cried Judith, snapping her fingers over the dripping cups, and
+shaking her own handsome head in defiance of the fluttering cap, with
+all it surmounted. "As if I didn't look forward to something better
+than that, though I have demeaned myself to serve out your stale beer
+till I'm sick of it."
+
+"Ah! ha! I understand. One can do that with half an eye," answered the
+irate dame, casting a glance over at young Storms, who sat at one of
+the tables, sipping his wine and laughing quietly over the contest.
+"But have a care of yourself. It may come about that chickens counted
+in the shell never live to pip."
+
+Judith turned her great eyes full of wrathful appeal on Storms, and
+burst into a scornful laugh, which the young man answered by a look of
+blank unconcern.
+
+"You hear her! You hear her, with her insults and her tyrannies;
+sneering at me as if I was the dirt under her feet!" the girl cried
+out, stamping upon the sanded floor, "and not one of you to say a
+word."
+
+"How should we?" said Storms, with a laugh. "It's a tidy little fight
+as it stands. We are only waiting to see which will get the best of
+it. Who here wants to bet? I'll lay down half a sovereign on the
+lass."
+
+As he tossed a bit of gold on the table, Storms gave the barmaid a
+look over his shoulder, that fell like ice upon her wrath. She shrunk
+back with a nervous laugh, and said, with a degree of meekness that
+astonished all in the room, "Now, I will have no betting on me or the
+mistress here. We are both a bit fiery; but it doesn't last while a
+candle is being snuffed. I always come round first; don't I now,
+mistress?"
+
+The good-hearted landlady looked at the girl with open-mouthed
+astonishment. Her color lost much of its blazing red, her cap-borders
+settled down with placid slowness. Both hands dropped from her plump
+waist, and were gently uplifted.
+
+"Did any one here ever see anything like it?" she said. "One minute
+flaring up, like a house on fire, the next, dead ashes, with any
+amount of water on 'em. I do think no one but me could get on with the
+lass. But I must say, if she does get onto her high horse at times,
+with whip and spur, when I speak out, she comes down beautifully."
+
+"Don't I?" said Judith, with a forced laugh, gathering up her pewter
+cups. "But that's because I know the value of a kind-hearted
+mistress--one that's good as gold at the bottom, though I do worry her
+a bit now and then, just to keep my hand in. If any of the customers
+should take it on 'em to interfere, he'd soon find out that we two
+would be sure to fight in couples."
+
+With this pacific conclusion, the girl gathered up a half dozen empty
+cups by the handles, and carried them into the kitchen. The moment she
+was out of sight, all her rage came back, but with great suppression.
+She dashed the cups down upon a dresser with a violence that made them
+ring again; then she plunged both hands into the water, as if that
+could cool the hot fever of her blood, and rubbed the cups furiously
+with her palm, thus striving to work off the fierce energy of her
+passion, which the studied indifference of Storms had called forth,
+though its fiercest expression had fallen on the landlady.
+
+"I woke him up, anyway," she thought, while a short, nervous laugh
+broke from her. "He got frightened into taking notice, and that is
+something, though he kills me for it. Ah!"
+
+The girl lifted her eyes suddenly, and saw a face looking in upon her
+through the window. His face! She dropped the cup, dashed the water
+from her hands, and, opening the kitchen-door, stole out, flinging the
+white apron she wore over her head.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVIII.
+
+A PRESENT FROM THE FAIR.
+
+
+Storms was waiting for her near the door, where he stood in shadow.
+
+"Well, now, have you come round to take a fling at me?" said the girl,
+with more of terror than anger in her voice. "If you have, I won't
+bear it, for you're the one most to blame, coming here again and
+again, without so much as speaking a word, though ye know well enough
+how hungry I am for the least bit of notice."
+
+"This way. We are too near the house," said Storms, seizing the girl's
+arm, and drawing her toward the kitchen-garden, that lay in the rear
+of the building. "Let us get under the cherry-trees; they cannot see
+us there."
+
+"I musn't be away long," answered the girl, subdued, in spite of
+herself. "The mistress will be looking for me."
+
+"I know that; so we must look sharp. Come."
+
+Judith hurried forward, and directly the two stood under the shadow of
+the cherry-trees sheltered by the closely-growing branches.
+
+"What an impatient scold you are, Judith!" said the young man. "There
+is no being near you without a fear of trouble. What tempted you, now,
+to get into a storm with the mistress?"
+
+"You did, and you know it. Coming in, without a look for one, and
+saying, as if we were a thousand miles apart, 'I say, lass, a pint,
+half-and-half mild, now.'"
+
+Judith mimicked the young man's manner so viciously that he broke into
+a laugh, which relieved the apprehensions which had troubled her so
+much.
+
+"And if I did, what then? Haven't I told you, more than once, that you
+and I must act as strangers toward each other?"
+
+"But it's hard. What is the good of a sweetheart above the common, if
+one's friends are never to know it?"
+
+"They are to know when the time comes; I have told you so, often and
+often. But what is a man to do when his father is hot for him marrying
+another, and she so jealous that she would bring both the two old men
+and Sir Noel down on me at the least hint that I was fond in another
+quarter?"
+
+"But when is it to end? When will they know?"
+
+"Soon, very soon, now. Have patience; a few weeks longer, say, perhaps
+months, and some day you and I will slip off and be wed safe enough.
+Only nothing must be said beforehand. A single word would upset
+everything. They are all so eager about Jessup's lass."
+
+"I can keep a close lip; you know that. No matter if I do get into a
+tantrum now and again; no one ever heard me whisper a word about
+that. You understand?"
+
+"Yes, yes, of course. No girl was ever safer, but we must be cautious,
+very cautious. I mustn't come here often. It is too trying for your
+temper."
+
+"It is. I agree to that. The sight of you sitting in the public, so
+calm and cold, drives me mad."
+
+"Then I must not come."
+
+"Oh, Richard! I can't live without seeing you."
+
+"You shall see me, of course. I couldn't endure my life without seeing
+you. But it must be over yonder. You understand? You might be seen
+coming or going. Some one did see you in the wilderness the other
+night, and thought it was Jessup's daughter."
+
+"Did he? Yes, every one says I look like her. Now, I like that."
+
+"So do I. It just takes suspicion off you, and puts it on her. Won't
+the whole neighborhood be astonished when she is left in the lurch,
+knowing how she follows me up?"
+
+"Oh, Richard, what a wonderful man you are!" said Judith, wild with
+delight. "Yes, I will be so sly that they never can find me out."
+
+"They never shall. I mean to make that sure. See what I have brought
+you from the fair."
+
+Here Storms unrolled a parcel that he had left under the cherry-trees
+before entering the house that evening, and cautiously stepping into
+the light of a window, unfolded a scarlet sacque and some dark cloth,
+such as composed the usually picturesque dress of Ruth Jessup.
+
+"Oh, are these for me?" cried the girl, in an ecstasy of delight. "How
+soft and silk-like it is! Oh, Richard!"
+
+"For you! Of course; but only to be worn when you come up yonder!"
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"That is, till after we are wed. Then you shall wear such things every
+day of the week, with silk dresses for Sunday. But, till then, don't
+let a living soul see one of these things. Keep 'em locked up like
+gold, and only put them on when you come to the lake at night,
+remember. I wouldn't for the world that any man or woman should see
+how like a queen they will make you look till they will have to say,
+at the same time, she is Richard Storms' wife."
+
+"Oh, how sorry I am for having that bout with the mistress!" said
+Judith, hugging the bundle which he surrendered to her as if it had
+been a child she loved.
+
+"But you must promise me, on your life, on your soul, to keep my
+fairing a close secret."
+
+"I will! I will!"
+
+"Without that to lay the whole thing on Jessup's daughter with, it
+wouldn't be safe for you to come to the park. The mistress would turn
+you away, if she heard of it. Then where should we land?"
+
+"I will be careful. Believe me, I will."
+
+"Especially about the dress."
+
+"I know. I will be careful."
+
+"Judith! Judith Hart!"
+
+"Hush! The mistress is calling!" whispered Judith. "It is time to shut
+up the house. I will run up to my room and hide these; then help her
+side up, and come out again."
+
+"No, no! That would be dangerous; but I would like to see how the
+dress looks. What if you put it on after the house is still, and come
+to the window with a light. I will walk about till then, and shall go
+home thinking that my sweetheart is the daintiest lass in this village
+or the next."
+
+"Would you be pleased? I shall be sure to put the dress on. Oh, how I
+have longed for one like it! Yes, yes! I will come to the window."
+
+Judith uttered this assurance, and darted into the house, in time to
+escape the landlady, who came to the back door just as she passed up
+the stairs.
+
+Storms did linger about the house until the company had withdrawn from
+it, and the lights were put out, all but one, which burned in the
+chamber of Judith Hart. A curtain hung before this window, behind
+which he could see shadows moving for some minutes. Then the curtain
+was suddenly withdrawn, and the girl stood fully revealed. The light
+behind her fell with brilliant distinctness on the scarlet jacket, and
+was lost in the darker shadows of her skirt. She had twisted back the
+curls from her face with graceful carelessness; but, either by art or
+accident, had given them the rippling waves that made Ruth Jessup's
+head so classical.
+
+"By Jove, but she's the very image of her!" exclaimed Storms, striking
+his leg with one hand. "No two sparrows were ever more alike."
+
+This flash of excitement died out while Judith changed her position,
+and flung a kiss to him through the window.
+
+For minutes after he stood staring that way, while a dull shudder
+passed through him.
+
+"She's too pretty, oh, too pretty for that!" he muttered. "I wish it
+hadn't come into my mind!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIX.
+
+A WILD-FLOWER OFFERING.
+
+
+When Webb entered his master's room, after the young wife had fled
+from it, he found the patient in a high state of excitement. The flash
+of his eye, and the vivid color in his cheeks, fairly frightened the
+good man, who dreaded, above all things, a second attack of the fever,
+which had already so nearly proved fatal.
+
+"Help me to the couch; wheel it to the window. I want to look out; I
+want air!" said the young man, flinging himself half off the bed, and
+reeling toward the couch, on which he dropped, panting and so helpless
+that he could only enforce his first order by a gesture. Webb folded
+the dressing-gown over his master, and wheeled the couch close to the
+window.
+
+"Open it! Open it!" gasped the young man, impatiently.
+
+Webb threw open a leaf of the French window. Struggling to his elbow,
+young Hurst leaned out, scanning the flower-garden with bright and
+eager eyes. But the arm on which he leaned trembled with weakness, and
+soon gave way. His head fell upon the cushions, and his eyes closed
+wearily.
+
+"I cannot see her," he murmured, under his breath. "I cannot see her.
+She could not have escaped if it had been real. Ah, me! Why should
+dreams mock one so?"
+
+"Let me close the window," said Webb, anxiously. "The air is too much
+for you."
+
+"Yes, close it," answered Hurst, with a sigh; "but first look out,
+and tell me if you see any one moving among the flowers."
+
+Webb stepped into the balcony and examined the grounds beneath it. As
+he did this, a gust of wind swept through the opposite door and
+carried with it a folded paper, which had fallen from the invalid's
+hand when he staggered up from the bed.
+
+"No," said Webb, closing the window. "I see no one but a young woman
+going round to the servant's entrance."
+
+"A young woman! Who is it? Who is it?"
+
+"No one that I have seen before. Nay, now that I look again, it is the
+young woman from the public over in the village."
+
+"What is she doing here?" questioned Hurst, impatiently.
+
+"Come on some errand from her mistress to the housekeeper, most
+likely," answered Webb.
+
+"At first I almost thought it was old Jessup's daughter; but for the
+lift of her head, and the swing in her walk, one might take her for
+that."
+
+"Old Jessup's daughter! Don't talk like a fool, Webb," said the young
+man, rising to his elbow again, flushed and angry. "As if there could
+be a comparison."
+
+Webb very sensibly made no reply to this; but thinking that his master
+might be vexed because Lady Rose had not brought her usual offering of
+flowers that morning, changed the subject with crafty adroitness.
+
+"Lady Rose has gone out to drive in the pony carriage. Sir Hugh would
+have it so," he explained.
+
+"Yes, I dare say," muttered Hurst, indifferently. "She stays about the
+house too much. It is very tiresome for her."
+
+The young man never closed his eyes after this, and, with both hands
+under his head, lay thinking.
+
+"It was so real. I felt her kiss on my lips when I awoke. Her hand was
+in mine. She looked frightened. She left something. Webb! Webb!"
+
+"Yes, Mr. Walton!"
+
+"Look on the bed. I have lost something--a paper. Find it for me. Find
+it."
+
+Webb went to the bed, flung back the delicate coverlet, and the down
+quilt of crimson silk: but found nothing either there or among the
+pillows.
+
+"There is nothing here, sir!"
+
+"Look again. There must be a paper. I felt it in my hand. There must
+be a paper."
+
+"Really, Mr. Walton, there is nothing of the kind."
+
+"Look on the floor--everywhere. I tell you it was too real. Somewhere
+you will find it."
+
+Webb searched the bed again, and examined the carpet, with a feeling
+of uneasiness.
+
+"The fever has come back," he thought. "He is getting wild, again.
+What can have done it? He seemed so quiet when I went out--was
+sleeping like a baby."
+
+Troubled with these thoughts, the faithful fellow went on, searching
+the room, without the least shadow of expectation that he would find
+anything. At last he rose from his knees, and repeated, "There is
+nothing here, sir."
+
+Hurst uttered a deep sigh, and turned his head away, weak and
+despondent.
+
+"Dreams, dreams," he thought. "She is always coming, but never
+comes--never. Ah, this is too cruel. Can it be so clear, and yet a
+dream?"
+
+Webb came up to the couch, hesitating and anxious. The flush was still
+on his master's face. His eyelids were closed, but they were
+quivering, and the long, dark lashes were damp with tears the young
+man was unable to suppress in the extremity of his weakness.
+
+"Something has happened. Who has dared to disturb you?" said Webb,
+touched and anxious.
+
+"Dreams, Webb, dreams--nothing else. Help me back to bed."
+
+Webb obeyed this request with great tenderness, and, in a few moments,
+Hurst lay upon the pillows he had left with such a burst of wild hope,
+completely prostrated.
+
+"Don't let me sleep again," he murmured, wearily. "Not in the
+day-time. Such rest is a cheat."
+
+"Ah, you will not care to sleep now," said the servant, "for here
+comes Lady Rose, with her carriage full of ferns and flowers, from the
+woods. She said, this morning, that the splendor of our roses only
+wearied you, and she would find something so fresh and sweet that no
+one could help admiring them. Ah, Mr. Walton, the young lady never
+tires of thinking what will please you best."
+
+"I know--I know," answered Hurst, impatiently. "She is good to every
+one."
+
+Just then a sweet, cheerful voice was heard in the hall. Directly the
+door opened softly, and Lady Rose came in, carrying an armful of ferns
+and delicate wild flowers close to her bosom.
+
+"See, what I have brought you," she said, looking down upon her
+fragrant burden with child-like delight. "I saw how tired you were of
+those great standard roses, and the ragged snow of our Japan lilies.
+Arrange them as I would, they never made your eyes brighten. But
+these are so lovely; great, blue violets, such as only grow around the
+old summer-house on the black lake. And such ferns! You never saw
+anything so dewy and delicate. Sir Noel and I brought them away in
+quantities; one goes to the lake so seldom, you know. Really, Walton,
+I think such things thrive best in the shadows. See!"
+
+Lady Rose had seated herself on the couch which the sick man had just
+left, and while her soft, blonde hair was relieved by the purple
+velvet of the cushions, dropped the flowers into her lap. Then she
+began to arrange them into bouquets, and crowd them into vases which
+Sir Noel brought to her, with an attention that was both gallant and
+paternal.
+
+As she was filling the vases, Lady Rose selected the brightest
+blossoms and the most delicate tufts of fern from the mass, and laid
+them upon the purple of the cushion, with a little triumphant glance
+at Sir Noel, which brought to his lips one of those rare smiles that
+came seldom to them in these days.
+
+When all was done, the girl gathered these choice bits into a cluster,
+tied them with a twist of grass; and, gathering up the refuse stalks
+and flowers in her over-skirt, stole softly to the bed, and laid her
+pretty offering on Hurst's pillow.
+
+The young man turned his head, as if the perfume oppressed him, and a
+slight frown contorted his forehead. Lady Rose observed this, and a
+flood of scarlet swept up to her face. Sir Noel observed it, also, and
+frowned more darkly than his son.
+
+Without a word, though her blue eyes filled with shadows, and her
+white throat was convulsed with suppressed sobs, Lady Rose left the
+room. Once in her own apartment, she tore back the lace curtains from
+the open window, dashed all the remnants of her flowers through, and
+flinging herself, face downward, on a couch, shook all its azure
+cushions with a passionate storm of weeping.
+
+"He does not love me! He never will! All my poor little efforts to
+please him are thrown away. Ah, why must I love him so? Spite of it
+all, why must I love him so?"
+
+Poor girl! Fair young creature! The first agony of her woman's life
+was upon her, an agony of love, that she would not have torn from her
+soul for the universe, though every throb of it was a pain.
+
+"Why is it? Am I so disagreeable? Am I plain, awkward, incapable of
+pleasing, that he turns even from the poor flowers I bring?"
+
+Wondering where her want of attractions lay, humble in self-estimation,
+yet feverishly wounded in her pride, the girl started up, pushed back
+the rich blonde hair from a face fresh as a blush rose with dew upon it,
+for it was wet with tears, and looked into the opposite mirror, where
+she made as lovely a picture as Sir Joshua ever painted. The tumultuous,
+loving, passionate picture of a young woman, angry with herself for
+being so beautiful and so fond, without the power to win one heart which
+was all the world to her.
+
+"I suppose he thinks me a child," she said; and her lips began to
+tremble, as if she were indeed incapable of feeling only as children
+feel. "Oh, if I were--if I only could go back to that! How happy we
+were then. How gladly he met me, when he came home from college! I was
+his darling Rose of roses then--his little wife. But now; but now--Is
+that girl prettier than I am? Does he love her? I don't believe it. I
+will not believe it. She may love him. How could any woman help it?
+Poor girl! poor girl, I pity her! But then, who knows, she may be
+pitying me all the time! She almost seemed to claim him that awful
+night. Oh, I wish that look of her eyes would go out of my mind. But
+it seems burned in."
+
+Lady Rose had ceased to weep, though her superb blue eyes were still
+misty, and full of trouble, as these thoughts swayed through her
+brain. Something in the mutinous beauty of that face in the glass half
+fascinated her. She smoothed back the cloud of fluffy hair from her
+temples, and unconsciously half smiled on herself. Surely, the dark,
+gipsy-like face of the gardener's daughter could not compare with
+that. Then Walton Hurst was so proud; the only son of a family rooted
+in the soil before the Plantagenets took their title, was not likely
+to mate with the daughter of a servant. Looking at herself there in
+the mirror, and knowing that the blue blood in her veins was pure as
+his, she began to marvel at herself for the thought.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XL.
+
+SEEKING A PLACE.
+
+
+Mrs. Hipple came into the room and found Lady Rose among her azure
+cushions, on which she had sunk with a deep sigh, and a blush of
+shame, at being so caught in the midst of her wild thoughts.
+
+"Dear, dear, I wonder how your ladyship got in without my knowing
+it," she said, picking up the jaunty little hat which the girl had
+flung on the carpet. "We thought Sir Noel had taken you for a long
+drive."
+
+"No matter, you need have been in no haste to come," said the young
+lady, turning her face from the light.
+
+"But this poor hat. See how the lace and flowers are crushed together.
+Such a beauty as it was, and worn for the first time. But I do think
+it is past mending."
+
+"Let them throw it aside, then," answered Rose, without looking at the
+pretty fabric of chip, lace, and flowers, over which Mrs. Hipple was
+mourning. "What is a hat, more or less, to any one?"
+
+"Nothing to your ladyship, I know; but I haven't seen the young master
+admire anything so much this many a day."
+
+"What! What were you saying, Mrs. Hipple?"
+
+"Nothing; only what a pity it was that you would fling things about in
+this fashion."
+
+"But something you said about--about--"
+
+"No, nothing particular, only when your ladyship stopped at the door,
+and said 'good-morning' to the young gentleman, he observed that he
+had seldom seen you look so bright and pleasant; when I answered, that
+it was, perhaps, owing to the hat which had just come down, and was,
+to my taste, a beauty, he said, 'yes, it might be, for something made
+you look uncommonly lovely.'"
+
+Lady Rose started up. She was no longer ashamed of her flushed face,
+but reached out her hand for the hat, which had, indeed, been rather
+severely crushed by its fall on the floor.
+
+"It is a shame!" she said, eying the pretty fabric lovingly. "But I
+did not think it so very pretty. No, no, Mrs. Hipple, I will do it
+myself. Such a useless creature as I am. There, now, the flowers are
+as good as ever; it only wanted a touch or two of the fingers to bring
+them all right; and I rather like to do it."
+
+She really did seem to like handling those sprays, among which her
+fingers quivered softly, as butterflies search for honey-dew, until
+they subsided into a loving caress of the ribbons, which she smoothed,
+rolled over her hand, and fluttered out with infinite satisfaction.
+
+"There, you fractious old Hipple, are you satisfied now?" she
+questioned, holding up the renovated hat on one hand; then, putting it
+on her head, she looked in the glass with new-born admiration of its
+gracefulness. "You see that it is none the worse for a little knocking
+about."
+
+"It is just a beauty. No wonder Mr. Walton's eyes brightened up when
+he saw it."
+
+Rose took the dainty fabric from her head, and put it carefully away
+with her own hands; at which Mrs. Hipple smiled slyly to her own
+shadow in the glass. Directly after this the kind old lady went down
+to the housekeeper's parlor, for she was not above a little family
+gossip with Mrs. Mason, and rather liked the cosy restfulness of the
+place. She found the good dame in an unusual state of excitement.
+
+"A young woman had been there," she said, "after a place as
+lady's-maid. She had heard in the village that one would be wanted at
+'The Rest,' and came at once, hoping to secure the situation."
+
+"A lady's-maid!" cried Mrs. Hipple. "Why, the girl is distraught--as
+if we took servants who come offering themselves in that way at 'The
+Rest.'
+
+"That was just what I told her," said Mrs. Mason, laughing as
+scornfully as her unconquerable good nature permitted. "I gave the
+young person a round scolding for thinking the thing possible. She
+answered that she thought no harm of seeking the place, as it was only
+in hopes of bettering herself; for she was disgusted with serving wine
+and beer at the 'Two Ravens.'"
+
+"Serving wine and beer? Why, Mason, you astonish me," said Mrs.
+Hipple, lifting her hands in horror of the idea.
+
+"Then I broke out," said the housekeeper, "and rated her for thinking
+that any one fresh from the bar of a public house could fill the place
+of a lady's gentlewoman, who should be bred to the duties; at which
+the girl gave her head a toss fit for a queen, and said that some day
+she might have a higher place than that, and no thanks to anybody but
+herself."
+
+"This must have been a forward girl, Mason. I wonder you had patience
+with her."
+
+"Oh, as to that, it takes something, and always did, to make me demean
+myself below myself," said the housekeeper, folding her arms firmly
+over her bosom; "besides, she came down wonderfully in the end, and
+pleaded for a housemaid's place, as if that was the thing she had set
+her heart on from the first; and it was more than I could do to make
+her understand that no such person was wanted at 'The Rest.' Then she
+wanted me to promise that she might have the first opening, if any of
+the maids should not suit, or might leave."
+
+When Mrs. Hipple returned to the room where she had left Lady Rose,
+this singular event was in her mind, and she spoke of it with the
+freedom always awarded to the beloved governess who had now become the
+companion and friend of her pupil. Lady Rose gave but little
+attention to the subject. Her mind was too thoroughly occupied with
+other thoughts for any great interest in matters so entirely foreign
+to them; but she seemed to listen. That was enough for the kind old
+lady, who continued:
+
+"The girl went off at last, quite disappointed, because she wasn't
+taken on at once. She was going over to Jessup's, she said, to have a
+chat with his daughter. I wonder that Ruth should not choose better
+company. She is a modest thing enough, and might look to be a lady's
+maid in time, without stepping very much out of her sphere, being, as
+it were, bred in the shadow of 'The Rest,' and gifted with more
+learning than is needful to the place."
+
+Here Lady Rose was aroused to more vivid interest. She looked up, and
+listened to every word her companion uttered.
+
+"You are speaking of Jessup's pretty daughter," she said.
+
+"Yes, of that slender young thing, Mason's goddaughter. Some people
+think her almost beautiful, with her great black eyes, and cheeks like
+ripe peaches. Then her hair is quite wonderful, and she walks like a
+fawn."
+
+"You make her out very beautiful," said Lady Rose, with a quick
+increase of color. "Perhaps she is--having seen her always since we
+were both little girls, I have not observed the change as others
+might."
+
+"Of course, how should your ladyship be expected to think of her now
+that you are the first lady in the county, and the girl only what she
+has always been?"
+
+Lady Rose shook her head in kindly reproof of this speech.
+
+"We must not say that, Mrs. Hipple," she said. "Ruth was my playmate
+as a little girl, a sweet-tempered, pretty friend, whom you kindly
+allowed to study with me as an equal."
+
+"No, no. Never as an equal. That was impossible. She was bright and
+diligent."
+
+"More so than I ever was," said Lady Rose, smiling on the old woman.
+
+"Ah, but you learned so quickly, there was no necessity for
+application with you. One might as well compare her dark prettiness
+with--"
+
+Lady Rose held up her hands, with a childlike show of resistance.
+
+"There, there. If you draw pleasant comparisons, dear Hipple, it is
+because you love me, but that takes nothing from Ruth, who must be
+remarkably good-looking, or people would not admire her so much."
+
+"Admired, is she? Well, I know little of that. Of course, the servants
+rave about her beauty in the housekeeper's room; I rebuked one of them
+only yesterday, for saying that the gentlemen who visit at 'The Rest'
+go by the gardener's cottage so often only to get a look at the
+daughter, pretending all the time that it is the great show of roses
+that takes them that way."
+
+"Were you not a little hard with the man, Hipple? Sir Noel's
+guests--those who joined in the hunt--certainly did seem greatly
+struck by her appearance as we rode by the cottage."
+
+"No, no, the man deserved a reprimand for saying that his young master
+was made angry by their praises, when they saw her standing like a
+picture in the porch, for them to look at."
+
+"You were right--excuse me, you were quite justified in rebuking
+him," said the lady, in breathless haste. "It was an impertinence."
+
+"And, of all places, to say it in the housekeeper's room," added the
+old lady, "and Mason to permit it; but she thinks her goddaughter a
+paragon, and means to make her the heiress of all her savings. Indeed,
+she intends to give her something handsome when she is married to
+young Storms."
+
+"Her marriage with young Storms!" faltered Lady Rose, going to a
+window in hopes of concealing her agitation; for the blood was burning
+in her face, and she dared not meet the eyes of that shrewd old lady.
+"Is that anything but a childish romance?"
+
+"It is a settled thing, my lady. We shall have a wedding at the
+cottage soon after Jessup gets well."
+
+As Mrs. Hipple said this, she glided out of the room, clasping her
+hands softly together as she went down the corridor, and smiling as
+such women will, when conscious of happiness adroitly conferred.
+
+Then Lady Rose looked shyly around, saw that she was quite alone, and,
+coming out of her covert, began to walk the room up and down, up and
+down, like some fawn let loose in a pasture of wild flowers. Then came
+a knock at the door. Lady Rose stole back to the window, determined
+that no one should see her radiant face before the intruder came in.
+It was a servant bearing a message from the sick-chamber.
+
+"The young master was wholly awake now. Would Lady Rose come and read
+to him a while?"
+
+Would Lady Rose come and read to the man she loved? Would she accept
+the brightest corner in Paradise, if offered to her? Ah, how her face
+brightened! How soft and glad was the smile that dimpled about the
+mouth, so sorrowful only a little time before! With a quick glance she
+looked into the mirror, and made an effort to improve the amber cloud
+of hair that was most effective in beautiful disorder. Struck with the
+loveliness of her own face, she gave up the effort and went away.
+
+"He has sent for me," was her happy thought. "He did not mean to
+reject my violets. It was only because he was not quite awake. He has
+sent for me! He has sent for me!"
+
+Poor girl! She did not know that Sir Noel had been pointing out the
+unkindness of his action to the invalid, and that this message was one
+of almost forced atonement.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLI.
+
+THE FATHER'S SICK-ROOM.
+
+
+Breathless and wildly happy, Ruth Jessup almost flew along the shaded
+path which led from "The Rest" to her own humble dwelling. Now and
+then she would look up to a bird singing in the branches above her,
+and answer his music with a sweet, unconscious laugh. Again, her mouth
+would dimple at the sight of a tuft of blue violets, the flower she
+loved most of any. The very air she breathed was a delight to her, and
+the sunshine warmed her heart, as it penetrates the cup of a flower.
+
+Up she came into her father's sick-room like a beam of morning light.
+
+"I have seen him, father. I gave the letter into his own hands. He is
+not looking so very ill."
+
+Jessup started to his elbow, eager and glad as the girl herself.
+
+"Then he got it? He surely got it?"
+
+"Oh, yes! I am very, very sure!"
+
+"But how? How didst manage it, since he is not well enough to leave
+his room?"
+
+"I went there!"
+
+"You?"
+
+"Yes, father; there was no other way, if I wished to put the paper
+into his own hand, as you bade me. So I went to his room."
+
+"But, Sir Noel! Mrs. Mason! I marvel they let any one into his room so
+easily."
+
+"Oh, they did not. I never dared to ask either of them," said Ruth,
+with a sweet, triumphant laugh, that sounded strangely in the lone
+sadness of the house. "I evaded them, and all the rest."
+
+"But how?"
+
+Ruth hesitated. The secret of the balcony stairs was too precious--she
+would keep it even from her father, as the angels guarded Jacob's
+ladder.
+
+"Oh, I slipped in while Mr. Webb was away."
+
+"Well! well! And he was not looking so very ill. He read my letter,
+and that brightened him up a bit, I'll be bound?" questioned the
+gardener.
+
+"Not while I was there. I only had a minute. They were on the stairs,
+and there was no chance for a word."
+
+"But he is getting better; you are sure of that?"
+
+"Oh, yes. I feel quite sure, father."
+
+"Well, I'm thankful for that. Mayhap he'll be able to come and see a
+poor fellow before long. Then we shall know more about it."
+
+"About what, father?"
+
+"Oh, nothing much! Only I'd give all the money I have been so long
+hoarding for the wedding-day only to be sure--"
+
+"Then he is not to blame about anything?" broke in Ruth, throwing her
+arms around the sick man, and kissing him wildly, as if she did not
+quite know what she was about. "Oh, father! father! How could you ever
+think ill of him?"
+
+"Child, child! What is all this ado about? Who said that I did think
+ill of the lad? Him as I have always loved next to my own child! Come,
+come, now! What have I said to make you so shaky and so fond?"
+
+Ruth gave him another kiss for answer, and, seating herself on the
+bed, looked down upon him with a glow in her great velvety eyes that
+brought a smile to his lips.
+
+"Anyway, the walk has brightened this face up wonderfully. Why, here
+is color once again, and the dimples are coming back like bees around
+a rose. Yes! yes! Kiss me, lass! It does me good--it does me good!"
+
+Ruth began to smooth the iron-gray hair on that rugged head, while the
+old man looked fondly upon her glowing face.
+
+"Never mind. We shall be happy enough yet, little one," he said,
+smoothing her shapely hand with his broad palm. "Everything is sure to
+come out right, now that we understand one another."
+
+Ruth drooped her head as the old man said this, and the bloom faded a
+little from her cheeks.
+
+"Yes; oh, yes, father!" she faltered, drawing her hand away from his.
+
+A look of the old trouble came into the deep, gray eyes, dwelling so
+fondly upon the girl; but before another word could be spoken, Ruth
+had left the bed, and lifting a vase full of withered flowers from
+the mantelpiece, flung them through the open window.
+
+"See what a careless girl I have been, never to think how you love the
+roses, and they in full blossom, all this time. I never forgot you so
+long before. Now did I, father?"
+
+"I never thought of them," answered the old man, shaking his head on
+the pillow. "My mind was too full of other things."
+
+"But we must think of them now, or the house won't seem like home when
+you are strong enough to sit up," answered Ruth, with a reckless sort
+of cheerfulness. "Everything must be bright and blooming then. I will
+go now, and come back with the roses. They will seem like old friends;
+won't they, father dear?"
+
+Ruth had reached the door with the vase in her hand when a knock
+sounded up from the porch.
+
+The color left her face at the sound, and she nearly dropped the vase,
+so violent was the start she gave.
+
+"I wonder who it is?" she said, casting a look of alarm back at her
+father, but speaking under her breath. "Has _he_ come to frighten away
+all my happiness?"
+
+She went down-stairs reluctantly, and, with dread at her heart, opened
+the entrance door. A girl stood in the porch, carrying a basket on her
+arm, who entered the passage without ceremony, and walked into the
+little parlor.
+
+"The mistress sent me to inquire after your father, Miss Jessup," she
+said, taking a survey of the room, which was furnished better than
+most of its class. "Besides that, I bring a jar of her best apricot
+jelly, with a bottle of port from the inn cellar, and her best
+compliments; things she don't send promiscuously by me, who only take
+them once in a while when it suits me, as it does now."
+
+"You are very kind," said Ruth, with gentle reserve. "Pray thank Mrs.
+Curtis for us."
+
+"Of course, I'll thank her, but not till I've rested a bit in this
+pretty room. Why, it's like a grand picture, with a carpet and chairs
+fit for a gentleman's house; enough to make any girl lift her head
+above common people, as Mr. Storms says, when he goes about praising
+you."
+
+"Mr. Storms!" faltered Ruth, shrinking from the name.
+
+"Yes, Mr. Storms. It's only here and there one who thinks of calling
+him Dick; and they are uncommonly careful not to let him hear them;
+for he has a strong hand, slender and thin as he looks, has Storms.
+But I needn't tell you anything about him."
+
+"No. It's not necessary," replied Ruth, scarcely knowing what she
+said.
+
+"Of course not. He comes here often enough to speak for himself, I
+dare say," persisted the girl, in whose great dark eyes a sinister
+light was gleaming.
+
+"Not often."
+
+Judith Hart's eyes sparkled.
+
+"Scarcely at all," continued Ruth, "since my father was hurt."
+
+"Is it his keeping away or the watching that makes you look so white
+in the face?" said Judith, taking off her bonnet, and revealing a mass
+of rich hair, which she pushed back from her temples.
+
+Ruth looked at the girl with a strangely bright, almost amused,
+expression.
+
+"I think--I fear that my father will want me," was her sole reply.
+
+"That's more than some other people do." This insolent retort almost
+broke from the girl's lips, but she checked it, only saying: "Here is
+your wine and the jelly."
+
+"Mrs. Curtis is very kind. Wait a little, and I will cut her some
+flowers," answered Ruth.
+
+Judith's great eyes flashed as she gave up the parcel.
+
+"Oh, yes, I can wait, since you are polite enough to give me leave."
+
+"Pray rest yourself, while I go into the garden."
+
+Judith folded her arms, leaned back in her chair, and said that she
+could wait; the mistress did not expect her to come back yet a while.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLII.
+
+PROFFERED SERVICES.
+
+
+Ruth went into the garden, which was lying in shadow just then; so she
+required no covering for her head, but rather enjoyed the bland south
+wind which drifted softly through her loose hair, as she stooped to
+pluck the roses.
+
+Meantime Judith Hart lifted herself from the lounging attitude into
+which she had sunk, and in an instant became sharply alert. Upon a
+little chintz couch that occupied one side of the room she found the
+scarlet sacque and a dainty little hat, which Ruth had flung there
+before going up to her father, after her return from "The Rest." Quick
+as thought, Judith slipped on the sacque, and placed the hat with its
+side cluster of red roses on her head. After giving a sharp glance
+through the window, to make sure that Ruth was still occupied in the
+garden, she went up to a little mirror, and took a hasty survey of
+herself.
+
+"The jacket is as like as two peas," she thought, "and the hat is easy
+got. There'll be no trouble in twisting up one side like this. As to
+the roses, he must get them before the fair is over. If I could only
+wear them in broad daylight, before all their faces, it would be
+splendid; but he won't give in to that. Farther on, I'll show him and
+them, too, what a dash Richard Storms has in a wife. Oh, goodness,
+here she comes!"
+
+Quick as lightning the girl flung off the sacque; tossed the hat down
+upon it, and ran to the seat she had left. When Ruth came in, she was
+sitting there, casting vague looks around her, as if she had been
+quietly resting all the time.
+
+"Take these and this," said Ruth, giving her unwelcome visitor a great
+bouquet of flowers, and a little basket brimming over with
+strawberries; "and please take our thanks to your mistress."
+
+"But, about the old man up-stairs. How is he getting on? She will be
+sure to ask."
+
+"Better."
+
+"He is mending, then?"
+
+"Yes, slowly."
+
+Judith arose, but seemed reluctant to go.
+
+"You look pale yet."
+
+"No, no; I may have done, but not now," answered Ruth, blushing as she
+thought why her strength and color had come back so suddenly. "I am
+not as anxious as I was."
+
+"But the nursing, and the work, too, must come hard," persisted the
+girl.
+
+"Not now; I scarcely feel it now."
+
+"But if you should, remember, I'm both ready and willing to give a
+helping hand."
+
+"Thank you."
+
+"And the mistress will be glad to spare me now and then, when she
+knows that it is for this place I'm wanted. So there would be no fear
+of asking."
+
+"Your mistress is very good."
+
+"Good as gold; especially where you are the person that wants help.
+'Judith,' says she, calling me into the bar, 'take these things over
+to Jessup's and mind you ask particular about the old man. He should
+'a' been about by this time; perhaps it's nursing he wants most, so,
+if you can be of use, don't mind coming back in a hurry, but give the
+lass a helping hand. Poor thing, she's been brought up o'er dainty,
+and this sickness in the house is sure to pull her down.' That's what
+the mistress said, and I'm ready to abide by it, and help you at any
+time."
+
+Ruth was touched by this persistent kindness, that was so earnest and
+seemed so real, and her rejection of it was full of gratitude.
+
+"All the worst trouble is over now," she said, and a gleam of moisture
+came into her eyes. "Say this to your mistress. As for yourself, a
+thousand thanks; but I need no help now, though I shall never forget
+how kindly you offered it."
+
+"Oh, as for the kindness, that's nothing," answered the girl, with a
+slight toss of the head, on which she was tying her bonnet, for she
+was far too bold for adroit hypocrisy. "One always stands ready to
+help in a case of sickness; but never mind, you will be sure to want
+me yet; when you come to that, you'll find me ready; and you are sure
+to come to it."
+
+"I hope not. Indeed, I am sure of it. Father is doing so well."
+
+"Would you mind my going up to see for myself?" said Judith, sharply,
+as if the wish were flung off her mind with an effort. "The mistress
+will not be content with less, I warrant."
+
+"If you wish. Only he must not be disturbed," answered Ruth, after a
+moment's hesitation.
+
+"Oh, I'll flit up the stairs like a bird, and hold my breath when I
+get there," said Judith, eagerly.
+
+She did follow Ruth with a light tread, and moved softly across the
+sick man's chamber when she reached it. Jessup turned on his pillow as
+she approached, and held out his hand, with a smile. The sight of a
+familiar face was pleasant to him.
+
+"The mistress sent me to ask after you," said Judith, quite subdued by
+the stillness and the pallor of the sick man's face, "and I just
+stepped up to see for myself. She's so anxious to make sure that you
+are mending."
+
+"Tell her I am better. A'most well," said Jessup, grateful for this
+attention from his old neighbor.
+
+"That's something worth while," answered the girl, speaking with an
+effort. "The mistress 'll be glad to hear it, and so will be many a
+one who comes to the house. As for me, if I can do anything to help
+the young lady, she has only to say so, and I'll come, night or day,
+for she doesn't look over strong."
+
+Unconsciously to herself, the girl had been so impressed with the
+gentle bearing of Ruth Jessup, that she spoke of her as superior to
+her class, even against her own will. Jessup noticed this, and turned
+a fond look on Ruth.
+
+"She's not o'er strong," he said, "but I think Ruthy wouldn't like
+any one but herself to tend on her father."
+
+"No, no, indeed, I wouldn't," said Ruth, eagerly.
+
+"But I might help about the work below," urged Judith, with singular
+persistency.
+
+Jessup looked at his daughter questioningly.
+
+"There is so little to do," she said, "but I am obliged all the same."
+
+"Yes, yes. We are both obliged. Don't forget to say as much to the
+mistress," said Jessup.
+
+Judith seized his hand, and shook it with a vigor that made him cry
+out with a spasm of pain. Then her face flushed, and a strange, unholy
+light shot into her eyes.
+
+"Not so well as you think, or a grip of the hand like that wouldn't
+have made you wince so. You may have need of me, yet," she said,
+turning upon Ruth; "to my thinking, it's more than likely."
+
+"I hope not," answered Ruth; "and I am sure that all who love my
+father hope so too."
+
+"Of which I am one," was the quick reply. "You may make sure of that.
+No one wants to see Jessup about more than I do. Though he does come
+so seldom to the public, it will be a holiday when he orders the next
+can of beer at the 'Two Ravens.' So, hoping for the best, good-day to
+both of you."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIII.
+
+THE LOST LETTER.
+
+
+Judith Hart took her way straight for the wilderness. She passed along
+the margin of the black lake, made at once for the summer-house, and
+looked in, then turned away with an exclamation of disappointment.
+
+"I thought he would 'a' been here, so sharp as he was for news," she
+muttered, tearing off a handful of rushes, and biting them with her
+teeth, until they rasped her lips. "There's no depending on him; but
+wait till we're wed. Then he'll have to walk a different road. Ha!"
+
+The report of a gun on a rise of ground beyond the lake brought this
+exclamation from her, and she hastened on, muttering to herself, "It's
+his gun. I know the sound of it, and I thought he had forgotten."
+
+Directly she came in sight of a figure walking through the thick
+undergrowth.
+
+"Richard! Richard Storms!"
+
+The man came toward her, moving cautiously, and holding up one hand.
+
+"Hush! Can't you speak without screaming?" he said, hissing the words
+through his teeth. "It's broad daylight, remember, and by that,
+there's no passing you off for the other one, if a gamekeeper should
+cross us."
+
+"Why not? I've just seen Ruth Jessup and myself in the glass at the
+same time, and we're like as two peas. Only for her finikin airs, I
+defy any one to say which was which."
+
+"But she would never have called out so lustily."
+
+"Oh, that was because I was o'erjoyed to see you, after finding the
+little lake-house empty!" answered the girl, laying her hand on his
+shoulder.
+
+Storms shook the hand off.
+
+"Don't do that, if you want to pass for a lady," he said, rudely.
+
+"A lady, now! As if I was not as good as Ruth Jessup, any day, and
+more of a lady, too," retorted the girl, with passionate tears in her
+eyes.
+
+"Ruth Jessup isn't the girl to lay her hands on a man's shoulder
+without his asking," said Storms, setting down his gun, and dusting
+his coat, as if her touch had soiled it. "Who knows that some one may
+not be looking on?"
+
+"And if it chanced, what harm, so long as we are to be man and wife so
+soon?" pleaded the girl, now fairly crying.
+
+"What harm! Do you think I want every gamekeeper on the place to be
+jibing about the lass I mean to make a lady of, if she's only careful
+of herself?"
+
+"If!" repeated the girl, dashing away her tears. "What 'ifs' are there
+between you and me? Before we go another step, I want to hear about
+that."
+
+Storms laughed, and said, carelessly,
+
+"Never mind. What news do you bring me?"
+
+"None--not a word, while there are 'ifs' in the way, let me tell you
+that; though I have found something that you would give a hundred
+guineas down to get hold of, and the young master a thousand to keep
+back."
+
+"You have! What is it?"
+
+"Nothing that has an 'if' in it."
+
+"There, there! Don't be silly. I mean no 'ifs.' Have I not said, as
+plain as a man can speak, what shall be between us?"
+
+"Well, when we are settled in the farm up yonder, I will give you
+something that Sir Noel would sell his whole estate to get from me."
+
+"As if I believed that."
+
+"But you may believe it. The more time I have for thinking, the more
+worth it seems."
+
+"But what is it?"
+
+"Only a penny's worth of paper."
+
+"Bah!"
+
+"With writing on it that proves who shot old Jessup!"
+
+Storms turned fiercely upon her.
+
+"Proves what?"
+
+"That Walton Hurst shot old Jessup."
+
+"A paper! Who wrote it?"
+
+"Jessup himself."
+
+"You have such a letter signed by Jessup?"
+
+"I just have that!"
+
+"Give it to me, lass! Give it to me!"
+
+"Not yet. I'm thinking it just as well to keep the bit of paper in my
+own hands," was the sharp answer. "'Ifs' might come up again, you
+know!'"
+
+A look of shrewd cunning stole over the features Judith's suspicious
+eyes were searching. Storms turned from her with a contemptuous
+gesture.
+
+"There, there! I'm not to be taken in with such chaff. Try something
+better. If you had such a paper it wouldn't be kept back from a true
+sweetheart one minute. You've got a man of sense to deal with."
+
+"I haven't got it, have I? Look here!" cried Judith, drawing back, and
+unfolding a paper she took from her bosom. "The letters are large
+enough. You can read from here. Is that Jessup's name or not?"
+
+Storms did read enough to see how important the paper might become. He
+glanced from it to the firmly set and triumphant features of the girl.
+
+"You brought it for me. You will give it to me!"
+
+"No!" answered Judith, folding the paper. "Not till we come from the
+church."
+
+With the leap of a tiger Storms sprang upon the girl, and snatched at
+the paper; but she, wary and agile as himself, leaped aside, and fled
+like a deer down the declivity, sending a ringing laugh, full of
+mockery, back to the baffled man.
+
+In an instant, he was flying after her, his teeth set hard, his eyes
+gleaming, and every leap bringing him nearer to her, and her nearer to
+the lake.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIV.
+
+THE HOUSEKEEPER'S VISIT.
+
+
+Ruth Jessup was almost happy, now. From a place of care and dread her
+father's sick-room had become a pleasant little haven of rest to her.
+Perfect confidence had returned between the father and child, broken
+only by a consciousness of one secret. Sooner or later, he should know
+the secret of her marriage, and rejoice over the son it had given him.
+Of course, the girl thought all things must be well, now that her
+father had communicated with the young master; otherwise, that look of
+calm tranquillity would never have settled so gently on the face that
+seemed to have given up its pain; from the moment she had gone forth
+with that letter. All was right between those two, and, knowing this,
+the girl felt her secret only as a sweet love-burden, which, sooner or
+later, should make that dear father proud and happy, as she hoped to
+be herself.
+
+Thus, all the day long, the girl flitted about the cottage, doing her
+humble household work with dainty grace. One particular morning she
+was sitting on her father's bed, dropping strawberries into his mouth,
+giving a little start, when he made a playful snap at her stained
+fingers, which was pleasant, though the effort brought a twinge of
+pain to him, and a pretty affected cry, often broke into a laugh, from
+her.
+
+"There, now, you shall not have another," she said, taking the hull of
+a luscious berry between her thumb and finger, and holding it out of
+reach, tempting his thirsty mouth with its red ripeness. "Bite the
+hand that feeds you--oh, for shame!"
+
+"Nothing but a false hound does that," said the sick man, far more
+seriously than the occasion demanded.
+
+"A hound! oh, father, that is too bad. I meant nothing like that. See,
+now, here is the plumpest and ripest of all. Wait till I dip it in the
+sugar. It seems like rolling it in snow, don't it?"
+
+The invalid opened his mouth and smiled, as the rich fruit melted on
+his feverish tongue.
+
+"What is it, father?" questioned the girl, as a shadow chased away the
+smile. "What is the matter, now?"
+
+"Nothing; really nothing, child; only I thought there was a step under
+the window."
+
+Ruth listened, and the color left her face. She bent down to her
+father, and stole an arm around his neck. Then he felt that the arm
+was trembling like a reed in the wind.
+
+"Oh, father, you will not let him come here again? It will kill me, if
+you do."
+
+"Hush, hush, lass! Remember, he has my promise."
+
+"But not mine. Oh, father, do not be so cruel."
+
+A step sounded in the lower passage. Ruth grew pale as she listened.
+The footsteps paused near the stairs, and a voice called out, "Ruthy!
+I say, Ruthy!"
+
+Ruth sprang from the bed with a little cry of joy, and flinging open
+the door, looked over the banister.
+
+"Is it you? Is it only you, godmother? Come up, come up!"
+
+Mrs. Mason accepted the invitation, planting her feet so firmly on the
+narrow stairs that they shook under her.
+
+"Of course, I know he is better by the look of your face," said the
+dame, pausing to draw a deep breath before she entered the sick man's
+room. "You need not trouble yourself to ask; all is going on well at
+'The Rest.' The young master walks across the room now, and lies on
+the couch near the window, looking out as if he pined for the free air
+again, as who wouldn't, after such a bout of illness?"
+
+Ruth did not speak, but her face flushed, and her eyes sparkled
+through the droop of their long lashes. She knew that the window her
+godmother spoke of looked across the flower-garden to their own
+cottage, and her fond heart beat all the faster for the knowledge.
+
+"So, at last, an old friend can win a sight of you," said dame Mason,
+crossing over to the bed where Jessup lay, and patting the great hand
+which rested on the coverlet with her soft palm; "and right glad I am
+to find you are looking so well."
+
+Jessup looked at Ruth, and smiled.
+
+"She takes such care of me, how can I help it?" he said.
+
+"Aye, truly. It will be hard when you have to part with her, I must
+say that; but such is human nature. We rear them up, get to loving
+them like our own hearts, and away they go, building nests for
+themselves. Her mother did it for you, remember; and so it will be
+while human nature is human nature."
+
+Jessup heaved a deep sigh, and looked at his daughter with wistful
+earnestness. She answered him with a glance of tender appeal, from
+which he turned to the dame with a little gleam of triumph.
+
+"There is the rub, Mrs. Mason. My lass will not listen to leaving her
+old father, but fights against it like a bird that loves its cage, all
+the more fiercely now that I am down."
+
+Mrs. Mason wheeled round, and looked at Ruth from under her heavy
+eyebrows, as if she doubted what the father had been saying.
+
+"Aye, little one, we know better than that," she said. "But I don't
+quite like this. Cheating a sick man may be for his good; but I don't
+like it, I don't like it."
+
+"Cheating," faltered Ruth, conscience-stricken. "Oh, godmother."
+
+"Well, well, the old saying, that all things is fair in love or war,
+may be true; but I don't believe it. According to my idea, truth is
+truth, and nothing can be safer or better, in the long run. Mark this,
+goddaughter, the first minute you get out of the line of truth, casts
+you, headforemost, into all sorts of trouble. One must wind and turn,
+like a fox, to get out of a deceit, if one ever does get out, which
+I'm not sure of."
+
+Ruth stood before the good housekeeper, as she promulgated this
+homely opinion, like a detected culprit. Her color came and went, her
+eyelids drooped, and a weight seemed to settle, like lead, upon her
+shoulders. This evident distress touched the housekeeper with
+compassion.
+
+"There, there," she said, "I did not mean to be hard. Young folks will
+be young folks--ha, Jessup? You and I can remember when more
+sweethearting was done on the sly than we should like to own up to;
+and young Storms is likely to be heir to the best farm on Sir Noel's
+estate, though, I must say, he was never much to my liking. These
+sharp-faced young men never were. Mason was of full weight and
+tallness, or he never would have fastened a name on me."
+
+Ruth was no longer blushing one instant and paling the next, for a
+vivid flush of crimson swept her whole face.
+
+"What are you talking about, godmother?" she questioned, with a
+little, scornful laugh, which irritated the good dame.
+
+"What am I talking of? Nay, nay, I have made you blush more than is
+kind already. Never heed my nonsense. It is natural that I should
+think no one good enough, and feel a little uppish that things have
+gone so far without one word to the old woman that loved you as if you
+were her own."
+
+"What do you mean? What can you mean, godmother?" cried Ruth, with
+unusual courage.
+
+"Oh, nothing. The news was over the whole neighborhood before I heard
+of it; but that's nothing."
+
+"What news? Do tell me?"
+
+"Why, that young Storms and my goddaughter would be married as soon as
+friend Jessup, here, is well enough to be at the wedding."
+
+"Father, father, do you hear that? Who has dared to slander me so
+cruelly?" cried the girl, bursting into a passion of tears.
+
+Jessup was greatly troubled by his daughter's grief.
+
+"Nay, nay, it has not come to that as yet," he said, "and, mayhap,
+never will."
+
+"Oh, father, how good you are!"
+
+In her passionate gratitude the girl might have shaken the wounded man
+too sorely, for her arms were around him, and her face was pressed
+close to his; but even then she was thoughtful, and, lifting her face,
+said, with a sort of triumph:
+
+"You see, godmother, how impossible it is that this story can be
+anything but scandal?"
+
+"Scandal? But Sir Noel believes it," answered the puzzled dame.
+
+"No! no!"
+
+"But he does, and Lady Rose was consulting with me this very day about
+the present she would give. I never saw her so interested in
+anything."
+
+"She is very good," said Ruth, with bitter dryness.
+
+"Indeed she is. A sweeter or more kindly young lady never lived. 'The
+Rest' would be gloomy enough without her."
+
+"I suppose you all think so?" questioned Ruth, with feverish anxiety.
+
+"It would be strange if we did not. I'm sure Sir Noel loves her as if
+she was his own child, which, please God, she will be some of these
+days."
+
+"Godmother! godmother! don't make me hate you!"
+
+"Hoity-toity! What is the meaning of this? I didn't think there was so
+much temper in the child. Why, she is all afire! Oh, friend Jessup!
+friend Jessup! this comes of rearing her all by yourself! If you had
+sent her to me at 'The Rest,' a little wholesome discipline would have
+made such rough words to her mother's friend impossible!"
+
+Ruth dashed the tears from her eyes, and held out both her hands.
+
+"Godmother, forgive me! I am so sorry!"
+
+Mrs. Mason turned half away from that imploring face.
+
+"I was wrong--so wrong."
+
+"To talk about hating me. The child she laid in my bosom almost in her
+dying hour."
+
+"The wicked, cruel child! Oh, if you only knew how sorry she is!
+Godmother, oh, godmother, forgive me for her sake!"
+
+Mrs. Mason wheeled round, and gathered the penitent young creature to
+her bosom; then turning her head, she saw that Jessup was greatly
+excited and had struggled up from his pillow.
+
+"There, there! Lie down again. This is no affair of yours," she said,
+hastily waving her hand, which ended in a shake for the pretty
+offender. "Can't I have a word with my own goddaughter without
+bringing you up from your bed, as if something terrible was going on?
+Looking like a pale-faced ghost, too! No wonder the poor child gets
+nervous. I dare say you just worry her to death."
+
+"No, no! godmother! He is patient as a lamb," cried Ruth. "Don't blame
+him for my fault."
+
+"Fault! What fault is there? Just as if a poor child can't speak once
+in a while, without being blamed for it. I never knew anything so
+unreasonable as men are--magnifying mole-hills into mountains. There
+now, go and sit by the window while I bring your exasperating father
+to something like reason. No one shall make you cry again, if I know
+it."
+
+Ruth went to the window, rather bewildered by the suddenness with
+which the good housekeeper had shifted the point of her resentment to
+the invalid on the bed. But Mrs. Mason seemed to have entirely
+forgotten that she had been sharply dealt with. Seating herself on the
+bed, which creaked complainingly under her weight, and settling her
+black dress with a great rustle of silk, she dropped into the most
+cordial relations with the invalid at once.
+
+"Better and getting up bravely. I can see that. Sir Noel will be more
+than glad to hear it. As for the young master, I know the thought of
+you is never out of his mind. 'When shall I be well enough to walk
+out?' he says, each day, to the surgeon. 'There was another hurt at
+the same time with me, and I want to know how he is getting on.'"
+
+"Did he say that, did he?" questioned Jessup, with tears in his eyes;
+for sickness had made him weak as a child, and at such times
+tear-drops come to the strongest eyes tenderly as dew falls. "Did he
+mention me in that way?"
+
+"He did, indeed. Often and often."
+
+"God bless the lad. How could I ever think--"
+
+Jessup broke off, and looked keenly at the housekeeper, as if fearful
+of having said too much. But she had heard the blessing, without
+regard to the half-uttered conclusion, and echoed it heartily.
+
+"So say I. God bless the young gentleman! For a braver or a brighter
+never reigned at 'The Rest,' since its first wall was laid. Well,
+well! what is it now?" she added, addressing Ruth, who had left the
+window, and was stealing an arm around her neck.
+
+"Nothing, godmother, only I love to hear you talk."
+
+"Well, we were speaking, I think, of the young master. It was he that
+persuaded me to come here, and observe for myself how you were getting
+on."
+
+"Did he indeed?" murmured Ruth, laying her burning cheek lovingly
+against the old lady's.
+
+"Yes, indeed. The weather is over warm for much walking; but how could
+I say no when he would trust only me? 'Women,' he said, 'took so much
+more notice, being used to sick-rooms,' and he could not rest without
+news of your father--something more than 'he is better, or he is
+worse,' which could only be got from a person constantly in the
+sick-room."
+
+"How anxious! I--I--How kind he is!" said Ruth.
+
+"That he is. Had Jessup been akin to him, instead of a faithful old
+servant, he couldn't have shown more feeling."
+
+Ruth sighed, and her sweet face brightened. The housekeeper went on.
+
+"We were by ourselves when he said this, and spoke of the old times
+when I could refuse him nothing, in a way that went to my heart, for
+it was the truth. So I just kissed his hand--once it would have been
+his face--and promised to come and have a chat with you, and see for
+myself how it was with Jessup."
+
+"You will say how much better he is."
+
+"Yes, yes! He seems to be getting on famously. No reason for anxiety,
+as I shall tell him. Now, Ruth, as your father seems quiet, let us go
+down into the garden. I was to bring some fruit from the
+strawberry-beds, which he craves, thinking it better than ours."
+
+"Go with her, and pick the finest," said Jessup. "I feel like
+sleeping."
+
+"Yes, father, if you can spare me."
+
+The housekeeper moved toward the door, having shaken hands with
+Jessup, cautioned him against taking cold, and recommending a free use
+of port wine and other strengthening drinks, which, she assured him,
+would set him up sooner than all the medicines in the world.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLV.
+
+EXCELLENT ADVICE.
+
+
+When once in the garden, Mrs. Mason grew very serious, and stood some
+time in silence watching Ruth, who, bending low, was sweeping the
+green leaves from a host of plump berries, clustering red ripe in the
+sunshine. At last she spoke, with an effort, and her voice was abrupt
+if not severe.
+
+"Ruth," she said, "I have a thing to say which troubles me."
+
+Ruth looked up wistfully.
+
+"Why is it that you try to keep secrets from your sick father?"
+
+"Secrets!" faltered the girl.
+
+"If you mean to wed this young man, why not say so at any rate to your
+own father? It is the best way out of this difficulty."
+
+"Difficulty!"
+
+"There, there! I can see no use in all this blushing, as red as the
+strawberries one minute, and denying it the next. Ruth, Ruth!
+deception and craft should not belong to your mother's child. I don't
+pretend to like this young man over much, but, under the
+circumstances, I have nothing to say. If your father is against it, a
+little persuasion from Sir Noel will set all that right."
+
+"What--what do you mean, grandmother?" questioned Ruth, hoarse with
+dread.
+
+"I mean to stop people's mouths by an honest marriage with a man, who,
+after all, is a good match enough. If you have ever been uplifted to
+thoughts of a better, it has come from too much notice from gentle
+people at 'The Rest,' and from too much reading of poetry books. But
+for that, there would never have been these meetings in the park, and
+moonlight flittings about the lake, to scandalize people. Think better
+of it, Ruth, or worse mischief than the scandal that is in everybody's
+mouth may come out of it. Nothing but an honest marriage can put an
+end to it."
+
+"Scandal!" whispered the girl, rising slowly, and turning her white
+face on the housekeeper. "What scandal?"
+
+"Such as any girl may expect, Ruthy, who meets young men in the park,
+and, worst of all, by the lake."
+
+"The lake! The park!" repeated the poor girl, aghast with
+apprehension; for every walk or chance meeting she had shared with
+young Hurst rushed back upon her, with accusing vividness. "Who has
+said--who has dared?"
+
+Here the frightened young creature burst into a passion of tears. The
+walks, the chance meetings, each a romance and an adventure, to dream
+of and hoard up in her thoughts, like a poem got by heart. Who could
+have torn them from their privacy, and bruited them abroad to her
+discredit? In what way would she deny or explain them? More and more
+pale her face grew, and her slender figure drooped with humiliation.
+
+"There, there, little one, do not look so miserable. I did not mean to
+hurt your feelings. Of course, I remember you have no mother to say
+what is right or wrong. Only this, never meet the young man again. It
+breeds scandal."
+
+Ruth looked up in amazement.
+
+"I know, I know your father is ill, but that should keep you
+in-doors."
+
+"Godmother, I do not understand. How is it possible?"
+
+"It is not possible for you to meet him in out-of-the-way places
+without casting your good name in the teeth of every gossip in the
+village. Nay, I have my doubts if the young man has not helped it on,
+else, how did that brazen-faced maid at the inn know about it, and
+taunt him with it before a half-score of drinkers?"
+
+The eyes of Ruth Jessup grew large with wonder.
+
+"Among drinkers! He at the public inn! Godmother, of whom are you
+speaking?"
+
+"Who should I speak of, but the young man himself, Richard Storms?"
+
+As a cloud sometimes sweeps suddenly from the blue sky, the shame and
+the fear left that young girl's face.
+
+"Oh, godmother, were you only speaking of him?"
+
+"Who else should I be speaking of, Ruth? As if his name and yours were
+not in every one's mouth, from the highest to the lowest."
+
+A faint, hysterical laugh broke through the sobs that had almost
+choked the girl, and alarmed the good woman.
+
+"There, there," she said, "only be careful for the time to come; an
+honest marriage will set everything right. I only wish the young man
+were of a better sort, and went less to the public; but he will mend,
+I dare say. That is right, you have had a good cry, and feel better."
+
+Ruth had wiped the tears from her face, and, after drawing a deep
+breath, was stooping down to the strawberry-bed again, and dashing the
+thick leaves aside with her hands, was gathering the fruit in eager
+haste. So great was her sense of relief, that she could feel neither
+resentment nor annoyance regarding the scandal that had so troubled
+the good housekeeper. Though she still trembled with the shock which
+had passed, this lesser annoyance was nothing to her. In and out,
+through the clustering leaves, her little hand flew, until the great
+china-bowl, into which the gathered fruit was dropped, brimmed over
+with its mellow redness. Meantime the housekeeper pattered on,
+bestowing a world of advice and matronly cautions of which Ruth never
+heard a syllable until the name of her lover-husband was mentioned.
+Then her hand moved cautiously, that it might not rustle the leaves as
+she listened.
+
+"He took Mr. Webb up, scornfully, as you did me, when he mentioned the
+gossip, and would not hear of it, calling young Storms a hind and a
+braggart, of whom the neighborhood should be rid, if he were master.
+So Webb said nothing more, though his news had come from some of the
+gamekeepers who had seen you once and again in company with the young
+man."
+
+The blood began to burn hotly in Ruth's cheeks.
+
+"I wonder only that you should have believed such things of me,
+godmother, and almost scorn myself for caring to contradict them," she
+said, placing the bowl of strawberries in a shady place, while she
+began to cut flowers for a bouquet.
+
+By this time, Mrs. Mason had unburdened her mind of so many wise
+sayings, and such hoards of good advice, that her goddaughter's
+indiscretions seemed to be quite carried away. She was weary of
+standing, too, and seating herself in a rustic garden-chair, over
+which an old cherry-tree loomed, waited complacently, while Ruth
+flitted to and fro among the rose-bushes, singing softly as a dove
+coos, while she plundered the flower-beds, and grouped buds and leaves
+into a sweet love-language, which her own heart supplied, and which he
+had studied with her, when their passion was like a poem, and flowers
+were its natural expression.
+
+"He will read these," she thought, clustering some forget-me-nots
+around a white rose-bud, which became the heart of her sweet epistle.
+"Let him only know that they come from me, and every bud will tell him
+how my very soul craves to see him. Ah, me, it seems so long--so long,
+since that day."
+
+As she twined each flower in its place, a light kiss, of which she was
+half-ashamed, was breathed into it as foolishly fond women will let
+their hearts go out, and still be wise, and good. Indeed, the fact of
+doing it, proves such women far superior to the common herds, who have
+no rare fancies, and scorn them, because of profound ignorance, that
+such gentle follies can spring out of the deepest feeling.
+
+When all was ready, and that bouquet, redolent of kisses, innocent as
+the perfume with which they were blended, was laid, a glowing web of
+colors, on the strawberries, Mrs. Mason prepared to depart. With the
+china bowl held between her rotund waist and the curve of her arm,
+she entered into the shaded path, promising Ruth to deliver both fruit
+and flowers to the young master with her own hands, and tell him how
+well things were going on at the cottage.
+
+"You will do everything that is kind, godmother, that I know well
+enough; only never mention that dreadful man's name to me, let people
+think what they will. I can bear anything but that."
+
+"First promise me never to see him again till he comes like an honest
+man and asks you of your father."
+
+"That I promise; nor then, if I can help it. Oh, godmother, how can
+you think it of me?"
+
+The good lady shook her head, kissed the sweet mouth uplifted to hers,
+and went away muttering, "I suppose all girls are alike, and think it
+no harm to keep back their love-secrets. I haven't forgot how it was
+with me and Mason. How many times I met him on the sly, and hot
+tongues wouldn't have forced me to own it. So, thinking of that, I
+needn't be overhard on our Ruthy, who has no mother to set her right,
+poor thing."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVI.
+
+THE SERPENT IN HER PATH.
+
+
+When Ruth left her father, he was overtaxed by the excitement of
+seeing his old friend, the housekeeper, and more than usually
+disturbed by the drift of her conversation. Kind of heart, and
+generous in his nature, he could not witness the repugnance that his
+daughter exhibited to the marriage he had arranged for her without
+tender relenting. Still, no nobleman of the realm was ever more
+tenacious of his honor, or shrunk more sensitively from a broken
+promise. Languid and weary, he was thinking over these matters, when
+some one, stirring in the hall below, disturbed him.
+
+"Ruth, Ruth, is it you?" he called, in a voice tremulous with
+weakness.
+
+Some one opened and shut the parlor door, then steps sounded from the
+passage and along the stairs. A man's step, light and quick, as if the
+person coming feared interruption.
+
+"Ruth, Ruth," repeated the gardener.
+
+"It is only I, Jessup," answered Richard Storms, stealing into the
+room. "There was no one below. I heard voices up here, and took the
+liberty of an old friend."
+
+"You are welcome," answered the sick man, reaching out his hand, which
+had lost its ruddy brown since his confinement. "I think Ruth has gone
+out with Mrs. Mason."
+
+"So much the better that she can leave you, I suppose," answered
+Storms, still holding the sick man's hand, with a finger on the pulse,
+while a slow cloud stole over his face. "The fever all gone? Why, man,
+we shall have you about in another week."
+
+Jessup shook his head, and laid the hand he released from the young
+man's grasp on his breast.
+
+"I fear not. There is a weakness here," he said.
+
+"And pain?" questioned Storms, eagerly.
+
+"Yes, great pain, at times; but you must not say as much to Ruth: it
+would fret her."
+
+A glitter, like that of disturbed water, flashed into the young man's
+eyes.
+
+"Then, as to the fever," continued the sick man, "it comes, on and
+off, with a chill, now and then; not much to complain of, so I say
+nothing about it, because of the lass."
+
+"Oh, that is nothing, I dare say; but the people in the village hear
+that you are quite strong again."
+
+Jessup smiled, a little sadly.
+
+"So, being more than anxious, I dropped in to have a little chat with
+you. It's hard waiting so long, when a man is o'er fond of a lass, as
+I am of your daughter. One never gets a look of her in the regular
+way."
+
+"Ruth has been with me so much," said Jessup, with a feeble effort at
+apology. "It has been hard on her, poor child."
+
+"Yes, but you are so much better now, and father is getting vexed. He
+thinks Sir Noel is putting off the new lease because nothing is
+settled about the marriage. Things are going crosswise with us, I can
+tell you. It will never do for us to put matters off in this way."
+
+Jessup was greatly disturbed. He moved restlessly, clasping and
+unclasping his hand on the coverlet with nervous irritation. At last
+he spoke more resolutely than he had yet done.
+
+"Storms, your father and I have been neighbors and friends ever since
+we were boys together, and we had set our minds on being closer still;
+but Ruth's heart goes against it, and I cannot force her."
+
+Storms drew close to the bed and bent his frowning face over the sick
+man.
+
+"I have been expecting this. Like father like child. But a man's
+pledged word isn't to be broken through with by a girl's whim; or, if
+so, I am not the one to put up with it."
+
+"You were always a hard one," answered Jessup, and a little strength
+flamed up into his gray eyes. "From a child you were that, and I have,
+more than once, had misgivings; but I did not think you would be bent
+on marrying with a lass against her will."
+
+"Yes, I would, and like it all the better, when her will was broken."
+
+Jessup shrunk down in his bed. There was something savage in that
+stern young face that terrified him. Storms saw the feeble movement,
+and went on:
+
+"Never fear, man, I will find a way to bend her will, and make her
+love me afterward."
+
+"I would rather have her placed by my side in the same coffin,"
+answered the old man.
+
+"You take back your word?" repeated Storms, savagely.
+
+"Yes, I take back my word."
+
+Storms turned on his heel, and without a syllable of farewell left the
+house. He paused a moment under the porch, and a glint of Ruth's
+garments caught his eye, as she was coming down the shaded wood-path,
+after parting with Mrs. Mason.
+
+Ruth saw him coming, and stopped, looking around for some chance of
+escape, like a bird, threatened in its cage.
+
+There was no way of escape, however. On one hand lay a deep ravine,
+with a brooklet at the bottom, and clothed with ferns up the sides; on
+the other, wild thickets, such as made that portion of a park called
+the wilderness picturesque.
+
+"So, sweetheart, you were waiting for me. I thought it would come to
+that," said Storms.
+
+Ruth moved on one side without answering. Storms could see that a
+shudder passed through her as he came near, and the evil light that
+had almost died out of his eyes when they fell upon her came back with
+fresh venom.
+
+"So you think to escape, ha! You shy on one side, as if a wild beast
+blocked the path. Be careful that you don't make one of me."
+
+"Let me pass. I wish nothing but that," faltered the girl, moving as
+far from her tormentor as the path would permit.
+
+"Not till we have come to an understanding. Look you, Ruth Jessup, if
+you think to pull me on and off like an old glove, I am not the man
+for your money."
+
+"I--I have no such thought. I have no wish to see you at all."
+
+"Indeed!" sneered the young man.
+
+"After what has passed it is better that we should be strangers!"
+
+"Nay, sweetheart. I think it is better that we should be man and
+wife."
+
+A disgustful shudder shook the girl where she stood.
+
+Storms saw it, and a cold smile crept over his face.
+
+"That is what I have been telling your father."
+
+"My father! Surely, surely you have not been torturing him!"
+
+"Torturing him! No. But we have come to an understanding at last."
+
+Ruth grew pallid to the lips.
+
+"An understanding! How?"
+
+The terror that shook her voice was triumph to him. At least he had
+the power to torment her, and would use it to the utmost.
+
+"You ask? I thought you might know what manner of man old Jessup is,
+without asking."
+
+"I know that he is just but never cruel."
+
+"Cruel! Oh, far from it. Go ask him, if you doubt."
+
+"Let me pass, and I will," answered the girl, desperately. "At any
+rate, he would not sanction your rudeness in keeping me here."
+
+"Rudeness! Of course you have never been here before. Oh, no! I
+haven't seen you, over and over again, watching the path. Only it
+wasn't rudeness when he came. There was no trembling then--nothing but
+blushes."
+
+"Let me pass, I say," cried the girl, tortured into courage, "if you
+would not force me to tell the whole world what I know of you. Let me
+pass, and never dare to look upon me again."
+
+Storms started, and a grayish pallor spread over his face. What did
+she know? What did she mean?
+
+Ruth shrank from the cowardly glitter of his eyes, and wondered at the
+sudden pallor. What had she said to daunt him so? Directly, the coward
+recovered himself.
+
+"And what would you tell?" he said, with forced audacity. "Is it a
+terrible sin for a man to stop the lass he is to wed, for a word
+wherever he chances to find her? What worse can you say of me than
+that?"
+
+Ruth saw the dastardly anxiety in his face; but did not comprehend it.
+He seemed almost afraid of her.
+
+"Is it nothing that you force your company upon me, when it has become
+hateful to me? Is it nothing that you harass a sick man with
+complaints, and thrust him back with unwelcome visits, when he might
+otherwise get well? Is it manly to come here at all, when I have told
+you, again and again, that your presence is the most repulsive torment
+on earth to me?"
+
+The man absolutely laughed again. He was once more at ease. Her words
+had meant nothing more than the old complaint. Still he stood in the
+girl's path.
+
+"Why will you torment me so?" she pleaded, with sudden tears. "What
+have I ever done that you should haunt me in my trouble?"
+
+"I only give you trouble for hate, harsh acts for bitter words, insult
+for insult. You can stop them all with a word."
+
+"A word I will never speak!" answered the girl, firmly. "Hear me once
+for all, Richard Storms. There was a time when you were dear to me as
+a playfellow, and might have been my life-long friend--"
+
+"Friend!" repeated Storms, with a disdainful fling of the hand. "You
+might say that much of a hound."
+
+"But now," continued Ruth, desperately, "there is not a thing which
+creeps the earth that I loath as I do the sight of you."
+
+This was a rash speech, and the most bitter that had ever burned on
+those young lips. She felt that on the moment, for the man's face
+turned gray, as if invisible ashes had swept over it. For a while he
+stood motionless, then his lips parted, and he said, in a deep, hoarse
+voice, that made her shrink in every nerve, "There is one other sight
+that shall be yet more loathsome to you!"
+
+Ruth attempted to speak, but her lips clove together. He saw a
+paleness like his own creeping over her face, and added, with
+ferocious cruelty, "Shall I tell you what it is? That of your
+lover--of the man who has stolen you from me--in a criminal's box,
+with half the county looking on."
+
+If the fiend had intended to say more, he was prevented, for the poor
+girl sank to the earth, turning a wild look on his face, like a deer
+that he had shot.
+
+There might have been some relenting in the man's heart, hard as it
+was, for he partly stooped, as if to lift his victim from the earth;
+but she shrunk from his touch, and fell into utter insensibility.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVII.
+
+NIGHT ON THE BALCONY.
+
+
+"I must see him. I will see him. No one will tell me the truth but
+himself. I must know it or die!"
+
+Ruth stood alone under the shadow of the trees, white as a ghost, and
+rendered desperate by words that had smitten her into insensibility.
+How long she had lain in that forest path the girl scarcely knew. When
+she came to herself, it was with a shudder of dread, lest that evil
+face should be looking down upon her; but all was silent. The birds
+were singing close by her, and there was a soft rustle of leaves,
+nothing more. She lifted her head, and with her hands searched for
+marks of the blow that seemed to have levelled her to the earth. A
+blow! She remembered now it was a word that she had sunk under--a
+coarse, cruel word, that brought a horrid picture with it, from which
+every nerve in her body recoiled.
+
+She was very feeble, now, and could scarcely walk. It seemed as if she
+never would get to the house; the distance appeared interminable. She
+could not keep in the narrow paths that coiled along the flower-beds,
+but wavered in her steps from weakness, as her enemy had done from
+wrath, until her feet were tangled in the creeping flowers and
+strawberry-vines.
+
+Her father was lying with his eyes closed when she went in, and a
+smile was upon his mouth. Even in his feeble state, he had found
+strength to free his child from a hateful alliance, and the thought
+made him happy. Ruth stooped down, and kissed him with her cold lips.
+The touch startled him. He opened his eyes, and saw how wan and
+tremulous she was.
+
+"Do not fret!" he said, tenderly. "Why should you, darling? I have
+sent him away. I have told him that the child God gave to me shall
+never be his!"
+
+At another time this news would have thrilled the girl with
+unutterable joy; but she scarcely felt it now. The fear that a
+marriage with Storms might be urged upon her seemed a small trouble,
+while the awful possibility he had fastened on her fears was so vivid
+and so strong.
+
+"I thought it would please you," said the sick man, disappointed. "I
+did."
+
+"And so it does, father; but we will not talk of it now. His coming
+has tired you, and I--I, too, am wanting a little rest. If you do not
+care, I will go away, while you sleep, and stay in my own room."
+
+"There is wine on the table. Drink a little. I suppose it may be
+shadows from the ivy, but you look pale, Ruth."
+
+"Yes, it is the shadows, but I will drink some wine."
+
+She poured some wine into a glass, and drank it thirstily; but it
+brought no color into her cheeks, and none came there until she stood
+in the porch, after night-fall, and repeated to herself, "I must see
+him! I will see him! I must know the truth, or die!"
+
+This resolve had made her stronger; perhaps the wine had helped, for
+she was not used to it, and so the effect was all the more powerful.
+At any rate, she drew the hood over her face, wrapped a dark mantle
+about her, and went out across the garden, into the path of the
+wilderness, and on to the home of which she might some day, God
+willing, become the mistress. When she thought of this, the shadow of
+that other picture, which had taken away so much of her life in the
+path she had trod only a few hours before, came with it, and that
+which had been to her a proud hope was blotted out.
+
+"I will believe it from no lips but his," she thought, looking out
+from the shadows at the vast gray building that held her heart in its
+chambers. "Oh, that I knew what was in my father's letter!"
+
+She left the shelter of the park, and walked cautiously across the
+lawn, concealing her progress as best she could among flowering
+thickets, or a great tree that spread its branches here and there in
+forest grandeur.
+
+She entered the flower-thickets under that window, the only one she
+cared for in all that vast building. A faint light came through it,
+softened by falls of lace, tinted red by the glow of silken curtains,
+and broken into gleams by the ivy leaves outside. Her heart gave a
+wild leap as she saw that the shutters were unclosed; then a great
+fear seized upon her; some person might be within the chamber, or
+lingering in the grounds. Cautiously, and holding her breath, she
+crept toward the masses of ivy that wound its thick foliage up to the
+balcony. If it stirred in the wind she shrunk back terrified. Where it
+cast deep shadows downward, she fancied that some man was crouching.
+
+Still the girl crept forward, her anxiety half lost in womanly dread
+of being misunderstood, even by the beloved being she sought. But, for
+the great agony of doubt at her heart, she would have turned even
+then, so strong was the delicacy of her pride.
+
+She was under the balcony now, behind the ivy, which covered her like
+a mantle. Up the narrow steps she crept, and crouching by the window,
+looked in. No one was moving. A night-lamp shed its soft moonlight on
+a marble console, on which some wine and fruit cast shadows. In the
+middle of the room stood the couch she had seen but once, shaded with
+rich silk and clouds of lace, snow-white and filmy, seeming to cool
+the air, it was so frost-like. These curtains were flung back at the
+pillows, and there she saw her husband in a sound sleep. She held her
+breath, she laid her face close to the window. Then, with impotent
+fingers, tried the sash. It was fastened on the inside.
+
+What could she do? How arouse the sleeper? Impatiently she beat her
+hand on the glass. Still more recklessly she called her husband's
+name.
+
+"Walton! Walton!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVIII.
+
+WATCHING HER RIVAL.
+
+
+On the same night that Ruth had taken a desperate resolve to see her
+husband, Richard Storms was waiting in the lake house for the coming
+of Judith Hart, who had promised to meet him there. The presence of
+this girl in the neighborhood had at first been a great annoyance to
+him; but now he both feared and hated her, so, coward-like, cajoled
+and deceived her by forced professions of love, while, with the same
+false tongue, he could not refrain from such hints of another as drove
+the poor creature half mad with jealous rage.
+
+Though her presence was hateful to him, he dared not offend her beyond
+a certain point, and had no power to drive her back into her former
+isolated life; or in revenge she might, as she had often threatened,
+find out Ruth Jessup, and give both her and the father a good reason
+for forbidding him the house forever. He knew well enough, that in her
+reckless daring, she would not hesitate to accuse herself of any
+offence so long as the odium reached him also.
+
+Thus shackled in his desire to free himself from the girl altogether,
+it mattered not to him how roughly, Storms waited for her at the lake
+house that night, lying at full length on the bench which ran along
+one end of the crazy old building.
+
+Judith came in, at length, full of turbulent excitement. She had been
+walking rapidly, and swept through the long grass like a rush of wind.
+
+"Ah, you are here!" she said, seating herself on one end of the bench
+as Storms swung his feet to the floor; "I thought you would be
+waiting, but it isn't you that oftenest gets here first, but I have
+seen some one you'll like to hear about."
+
+"Seen some one? Of course, one of the gamekeepers."
+
+"No. I have seen that girl, Ruth Jessup."
+
+"Ruth Jessup in the park at this time of night? You cannot make me
+believe that."
+
+"In the park and at 'Norston's Rest,' down upon her knees by a
+window, with ivy all around it, looking in upon the sick heir like a
+hungry cat watching a canary."
+
+"You saw this, Judith--saw it with your own eyes?" cried Storms,
+sitting upright on the bench.
+
+"Saw it! I should think so. She was so busy trying to open the window,
+that I went close under the balcony and could see her face plain
+enough by the light that came through the glass."
+
+"Trying to open the window--did you say that?"
+
+"Yes, again and again. She grew desperate at last, and shook it,
+calling out, 'Walton! Walton!'"
+
+"She called that name?"
+
+"Yes, more than once. It didn't wake the young man inside though, but
+some one else must have heard, for the door opened and a man came into
+the chamber."
+
+"What did she do then?"
+
+"Do! Why she shrunk back and came down some stone steps that are hid
+away in the ivy, and was half across the flower garden before I dared
+to move."
+
+"But you overtook her?"
+
+"Of course I did; though my feet got tangled in with the ivy, and I
+almost fell down; but, once safe on the ground, I tracked her swift
+enough, for she seemed to scorn moving beyond a walk."
+
+"But she did not see you?"
+
+"No, I can move quietly enough when it suits me. So she knew nothing
+of me, though I longed to give her a sharp bit of my tongue."
+
+"I'll be bound you did," said Storms, with a disagreeable laugh.
+
+The girl took this as a compliment, and gave the hand, which was
+dropped listlessly into hers, a grateful pressure.
+
+"'It was awful ungrateful of the young gentleman, though, to be so
+sound asleep,' I was longing to say. If it had been my Richard, now."
+
+"Did you think to say that?" cried Storms, starting up in sudden
+wrath. "Would you have dared to say that to her?"
+
+Judith started to her feet also. He had jerked his hand from hers, and
+stood frowning on her in the moonlight, while defiance kindled in her
+eyes.
+
+"That's just what I would 'a' been glad to say; not that she would
+have cared a brass farthing, for my opinion is, that girl hates your
+very name, for all your talk that she's dying for you. But such words
+from her would have been red-hot coals to me."
+
+"Do you think she would stoop to bandy words with such as you?" said
+Storms, softening his wrath into a malicious enjoyment of her jealous
+passion.
+
+"Such as me, indeed! What is the difference, I should like to know?
+Only this. I come here because you ask me and urge me to it, while she
+hasn't the courage, but sits worshipping her sweetheart like a rabbit
+peeping into a garden it has not the spirit to enter."
+
+"Worshipping! As if she cared for the man!" said Storms, with supreme
+disdain. "There is nothing in it. She only wants to make me jealous,
+thinking to bring me back again in that way."
+
+"It seems to me as if you were jealous."
+
+"Jealous!" repeated the young man, growing cautious on reflection. "As
+if I cared enough for Ruth Jessup for that!"
+
+"I am not so sure," answered Judith, as if talking to herself; "but
+when I am, it will be a dark day for one of us."
+
+Storms laughed.
+
+"Always threatening some terrible thing," he said, "as if there were
+any need of that; but how came you, my own sweetheart, Judith Hart, to
+be wandering about 'The Rest?'"
+
+"I saw her as I was coming this way. She was standing in the cottage
+porch, giving frightened looks around. The moon was not up yet, though
+it is climbing into the sky now, but a light streamed through the
+passage, and I saw her plain enough. Then she stole out, as if in
+search of some one. I thought she was going into the wilderness."
+
+"Ah, ha! Who was jealous then?"
+
+"Who denies it? That minute I could have killed her. She turned toward
+'The Rest.' I followed, thinking--"
+
+"Thinking that I might come that way."
+
+"Well, yes. I did think just that; and followed her softly as one of
+your own hounds would have crept. When I saw where she was going, the
+fire all went out of my heart. I could have cried for joy that--that
+it was no worse."
+
+"Still you hated her!"
+
+"Because she dared to love where I did."
+
+"Do you indeed love me so, Judith?"
+
+"Do I love myself, so common and worthless, compared to you? Do I love
+the air I breathe? Do I love sleep, after a hard day's work? Oh, oh,
+Richard, why ask such silly questions?"
+
+"Why? Oh, because one is never certain. Girls are so fickle
+now-a-days."
+
+"As if any girl who ever loved you could be fickle."
+
+Storms looked into the girl's face as she nestled close to him, and a
+strange, fond glow came into his eyes. He was thinking how much she
+looked like Ruth Jessup, with that warm love-light in her face--how
+beautiful she really was in the lustre of that rising moon. Tenderness
+with him at the moment was not all a pretence. But Storms was a man to
+bring the worst as well as the best passions of a heart down to his
+own interests, and never, for a moment, since he had seen old Jessup's
+letter in Judith's hand, had he ceased to devise some means of gaining
+possession of it.
+
+"Words are so easily spoken," he said; "but I like deeds. I want the
+girl I love to trust me."
+
+"And don't I trust you? What other girl would be here at this time of
+the night, risking her character, when she has nothing else in the
+world, just because you want things to be kept secret, while I can't
+for the life of me see the reason of it?"
+
+"That is what I complain of. True love asks no questions."
+
+"How can you say that when you have done nothing but ask questions
+ever since I came here? All about her too," retorted the quick-witted
+girl.
+
+"That is because I am interested in everything you do," was the prompt
+answer. "How could I watch here half an hour, and at last see you rush
+in so wildly, half out of breath and panting, to tell all that you had
+seen, without feeling some curiosity?"
+
+"Yes, indeed, I can understand that."
+
+"Then there is another thing."
+
+"Well," said Judith, more quietly; for she guessed what was coming.
+"What is it?"
+
+"That paper. It is of no use to you, and might help me a good deal."
+
+"How?"
+
+The girl spoke seriously, and he could tell by her voice that her lips
+closed with a firm pressure when she ceased.
+
+"It might help me about the lease."
+
+Judith seemed to reflect a moment, then she looked up quietly, and
+said:
+
+"When we are married, Richard."
+
+"Why, child, it is only a scrap of paper that no one but Sir Noel will
+ever care for."
+
+"I know that, and sometimes wonder you are so sharp after it. My arm
+is all sorts of colors yet where you grasped it after that race down
+the banks of the lake. If the game-keeper had not come in sight, I
+don't know what might have chanced. Oh, Richard, your face was awful
+that day. It frightened me!"
+
+"Too much, I fear, and that makes you so obstinate. I dare say that
+you never keep the bit of paper about you?" questioned Storms, with a
+dull, sinister look, which was so perceptible in the moonlight that
+the girl shrunk from him unconsciously.
+
+"No," she answered. "I never keep it about me, and never shall till we
+are wed."
+
+"And then?"
+
+"I will give it to you, as you crave it so much, and in its stead take
+the marriage lines. If it were worth a thousand pounds, I would rather
+have the lines."
+
+"A thousand pounds! Why, lass, what are you thinking of? Who ever
+heard of giving money for a scrap of writing like that?"
+
+"I don't know, I'm sure. Only you wanted it so much, and if you were
+to play me false, as people say you have done with many a sweetheart
+before me, it might be put to a bad use."
+
+"But they slander me. I never yet betrayed a sweetheart," said Storms,
+eagerly.
+
+"Then it is true that Ruth Jessup was the first to give you up. No,
+no, do not say it. No woman on earth could do that. I would rather
+think you false to her than not. The other I never could
+believe--never."
+
+"Well, believe what you like; but do not come here again without that
+bit of paper. I did not fairly read it."
+
+The suppressed eagerness in his voice aroused all the innate craft in
+the girl's nature. He had outdone his part, and thus enhanced the
+advantage that she held over him to a degree that made her determined
+to keep the paper. In her soul she had no trust in the man; but was
+willing to win him by any means that promised to be most effectual.
+Still she was capable of meeting craft with deception, and did it now.
+
+"Well, if I think of it."
+
+Storms read the insincerity of her evasion, and seemed to cast the
+subject from his mind. But he felt the thraldom of this girl's power
+with a keenness that might have terrified her, had she comprehended
+it. Besides, the news she had brought to him that evening was of a
+kind to make him hate the bearer and intensify his thirst for
+vengeance on young Hurst.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIX.
+
+BROODING THOUGHTS.
+
+
+"What are you thinking of, Richard, with your eyes wandering out on
+the water and your mouth so set?" asked the girl, after some moments
+of silence that began to trouble her.
+
+Storms started as if a shot had passed him.
+
+"Thinking of--Why nothing that should trouble you."
+
+"But you don't care to talk, and me sitting by!"
+
+"What is the difference, so long as you were in my mind? I was
+thinking that there might as well be an end of this. We could have the
+matter over, and no noise about it, you know."
+
+Judith's heart made a great leap.
+
+"Were you thinking of that, Richard? Oh, tell me!"
+
+She was sitting on the floor, leaning her elbow on the bench, where
+Storms had flung himself with an utter disregard to her comfort. Now
+she leaned forward till her head rested on his bosom, and she clasped
+him fondly with her firm, white arms.
+
+"Were you thinking of that now, really, darling?"
+
+Storms did not actually push her away; but he turned over with his
+face to the wall, muttering:
+
+"Don't bother. What else should it be?"
+
+"Then I must be getting ready, you know. The mistress must have
+warning," said the girl, too happy for resentment.
+
+"The mistress! There it is. You cannot expect me to take a wife from
+the bar-room. No, no! We must manage it in some other way."
+
+Judith drew a deep breath.
+
+"I will do anything you tell me--anything at all," she said. "Only let
+me make sure that you are as happy as I am."
+
+"Happy! Of course I'm happy. Why not?" answered the young man. "Now,
+you'd better be going home. It is getting late."
+
+Judith arose, drew her scarlet sacque closer around her, pulled the
+jaunty little hat over her eyes, and stood in the moonlight waiting
+for her lover. He arose heavily, and dropping both clasped hands
+between his knees, sat in the shadow, regarding her with sullen
+interest. She could not see his face, but there was a glitter of his
+eyes that pierced the shadows with sinister brightness. The picture of
+the girl was so vivid, framed in the old doorway, with that deep
+background of water over which the moonlight seemed to leap, leaving
+that in darkness, and herself flooded in light, so fearfully vivid,
+that the man whom she hoped to marry could never afterward sweep it
+from his brain.
+
+"Come," she said, "I'm ready."
+
+"And so am I," he answered, starting up and dashing his hands apart,
+as if a serpent had entangled them against his will. "What are you
+waiting for?"
+
+"What have I been long and long waiting for?" said the girl; "but it
+has come at last. Oh, Richard, say that it has come at last."
+
+"Yes, it has come at last," broke forth the man, almost savagely. "You
+would have it so. Remember, you would--"
+
+"Why, how cross you are. Was it I that first made love?"
+
+"You? Yes. It always is the woman."
+
+"Oh, Richard, dear--how you love to torment me!"
+
+The girl took his arm, as she said this, and held to it caressingly,
+with both hands, while her eyes, half-beaming, half-tearful, sought in
+his face some contradiction of his savage mood.
+
+"Is the torment all on one side?" he muttered, enduring her caressing
+touch with surly impatience.
+
+"There, Dick, only say for once that you are happy."
+
+"Oh, wonderfully happy. There, now, let us walk faster."
+
+They did walk on; now in the moonlight, now in deep shadow, she
+leaning upon him with fond dependence, which he appeared to recognize,
+though few words were spoken between them.
+
+Once, as they passed a sheltered copse half-way between the lake and
+Jessup's cottage, both saw the figure of a man retreating from the
+path, and knew that he was regarding them from under covert. Then
+Storms did meet the girl's bright glance, and they both laughed with
+subdued merriment.
+
+"He is following us. I hear his step in the undergrowth," whispered
+Judith, and Storms answered back:
+
+"Give him plenty of time."
+
+When they reached Jessup's cottage, the little building was quite
+dark, except the faint gleam of a night-lamp in the sick man's room.
+At the gate they both paused. Judith turned with her face to the
+moonlight, and offered her lips for the kiss Storms bent lovingly to
+give her. Then they stood together, hand-in-hand, as if reluctant to
+part for a minute, and he went away, looking back now and then, as if
+anxious for her safety, while she stood by the gate watching him.
+
+When the young man was quite gone, Judith opened the gate, without
+even a click of the latch, and stole like a thief toward the porch,
+which was so laden with ivy and jasmines that no one could see her
+when once in its shelter. Still she shrunk back, and dragged the
+foliage over her, when the gamekeeper came out from his concealment,
+and walked back and forth before the cottage. At last his steps
+receded, and, peering through the ivy, Judith saw him move away toward
+the lake. Then she stole out of the porch, crept with bent form to the
+gate, and darted in a contrary direction with the speed of a lapwing.
+Somewhat later, the girl stole through the back yard of the inn, tried
+her key in the kitchen door, and crept up to her room in the garret,
+where she carefully put away her outer garments, and went to bed so
+passionately happy that she lay awake all night with both hands folded
+over her bosom, and the name of Richard Storms trembling now and then
+up from her heart.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER L.
+
+YOUNG HURST AND LADY ROSE.
+
+
+It was a bright day at "Norston's Rest," when the young heir came from
+his sick-chamber, for the first time, and, leaning on Webb, entered
+the pretty little parlor in which Lady Rose had made his bouquet the
+evening he was hurt. She sat waiting for him now, demurely busy with
+some trifle of richly-tinted embroidery, which, having a dainty taste,
+she had selected, I dare say, because it gave a touch of rich color to
+her simple white dress, looped here and there into soft clouds by a
+broad blue sash, which might have lacked effect but for this artistic
+device. Perhaps the invalid understood this, for he smiled when the
+fair patrician just lifted her eyes, as if his coming had been quite
+unimportant to her, and settled down into one of the loveliest
+pictures imaginable, working away at her tinted silks with fingers
+that quivered among them, and eyes that no whiteness of lid or
+thickness of lash could keep from beaming out their happiness.
+
+There had been a time when this fair girl would have sprung from her
+seat and met him at the threshold; but now, she bent lower over her
+work, fearing that he might see how warmly-red her cheek was getting,
+and wonder at it. Indeed he well might wonder, for what word of love
+had he ever spoken that should have set her heart to beating so, when
+she first heard his uncertain step on the stairs?
+
+All at once the young lady remembered that she was acting strangely.
+Starting up, she gave him her place among the blue cushions of her own
+favorite couch; then sat down on a low ottoman, and fell to work
+again.
+
+"How natural everything looks!" said the young man, gazing languidly
+around. "I could be sworn, Rose, that you were working on that same
+bit of embroidery the day I was hurt."
+
+Lady Rose blushed vividly. She had snatched the embroidery from her
+work-table, as she heard him coming, and was in fact working on the
+same leaf in which her needle had been left that day.
+
+"We have all been so anxious," she said, gently.
+
+"And all about me--troublesome fellow that I am. It may be fancy, Lady
+Rose, but my father seems to have suffered more than I have."
+
+"He has, indeed, suffered. One month seems to have aged him more than
+years should have done," said the young lady.
+
+"Have I been in such terrible danger then?"
+
+"For a time we thought you in great danger, and were in sad suspense."
+She spoke with hesitation, and Hurst noticed it with some surprise.
+
+"Why, Rose," he said, "it seems to me as if you had changed, also.
+What has come over you all?"
+
+"Nothing, but great thankfulness that you are better, Walton."
+
+"And do you care so much for me? I hardly thought it," said the young
+man, a little sadly.
+
+"Oh, Walton, can you ask?"
+
+The great blue eyes, lifted to his, were swimming in tears, yet the
+quivering lips made a brave effort to smile.
+
+A painful thought struck him then, and his heart sunk like lead under
+it.
+
+"It would be a strange thing if you had not felt anxious, Rose; for no
+brother ever loved an only sister better than I have loved you."
+
+As he uttered these words, Hurst was watching that fair young face
+with keen interest. He saw the color fade from it, until the rich red
+of the beautiful mouth had all died away. Then he gathered the silken
+cushion roughly together, so as to shade his own face, and a faint
+groan came from him.
+
+"Are you in pain?" questioned the young lady, bending over him. "Can I
+do anything?"
+
+Her breath floated across his mouth, her loose curls swept downward,
+and almost touched him.
+
+The young man turned his face to the wall, and made no answer. He was
+heart-sick.
+
+And so was she even to faintness.
+
+He lay minute after minute, buried in thought. The young lady had no
+other refuge for her wounded pride, so she fell to work again; but not
+on the same object. Now she sat down to a drawing of the Black Lake.
+The old summer-house was a principal object in the foreground, and the
+banks, heavy with rushes, and broken with ravines, completed a gloomy
+but picturesque scene, which had a wonderfully artistic effect.
+
+"What are you doing there?" questioned Hurst, after a long silence.
+
+"It is a sketch of the lake which I am trying to finish up at once, in
+case pretty Ruth Jessup takes us by surprise."
+
+There was something in the girl's voice, as she said this, that made
+Hurst rise slowly to his elbow.
+
+"Takes us by surprise! What do you mean, Rose?"
+
+"Oh, haven't you heard? I forget. Webb was told not to disturb you
+with gossip; but Ruth's little flirtation with young Storms has been
+progressing famously since you were hurt, and I am thinking of this
+for a wedding gift."
+
+"For a wedding gift! Ruth Jessup--young Storms. What romance is this?"
+
+The young man spoke sharply, sitting upright, his face whiter than
+illness had left it, and his eyes shining with more than feverish
+lustre.
+
+"I do not know that it is a romance," answered Lady Rose. "At any
+rate, I hope not. Ruth is a good, sweet girl, and would never
+encourage a man to the extent she does, if a marriage were not
+understood; besides, old Storms was here only a day or two ago wanting
+more land included in his new lease, because his son thought of
+setting up for himself."
+
+"Setting up for himself! The hound!" exclaimed Hurst, between his
+teeth. "And Sir Noel. I dare say he gave the land. He has always been
+exceptionally eager to portion off pretty Ruth. Of course, old Storms
+got the lease."
+
+"I do not know," answered Lady Rose.
+
+"But I mean that this farce shall go no farther. This man Storms is a
+knave, and should be dealt with as such."
+
+"I am inclined to think Ruth Jessup does not believe this, for
+scarcely a night passes that she is not seen with him in the park."
+
+"Seen with him! What! My--With him!"
+
+"So it is understood in the servants' hall."
+
+"The servants' hall!"
+
+Hurst fairly ground his teeth with rage. Had Ruth's good name fallen
+so low that it was a matter of criticism in the servants' hall?
+
+"You know Mrs. Mason is her godmother?"
+
+"Well!"
+
+"And, of course, takes a deep interest in the matter. She talks all
+her troubles over with Mrs. Hipple, and even came to me about the
+wedding gifts. Of course, I took an interest. Ruth has so long been
+the pet of the house, and I love her; that is, there was a time when I
+loved her dearly."
+
+"Loved her dearly? And now you speak with tears in your voice, as if
+that pleasant time had passed. Why is that, Lady Rose?"
+
+The young lady's voice sunk low as she answered,
+
+"I--I think we have both changed."
+
+"But there must be some reason for this. What has Ruth done that you
+should shrink away from her?"
+
+"Perhaps she feels the difference of position," faltered Rose.
+
+"But that has changed in nothing, at least in her disfavor," answered
+Hurst, flushing red with a remembrance of that day in the little
+church.
+
+"She was so dainty, so sweetly retiring. It seemed to me impossible
+that she could ever have been brought to care for a man like young
+Storms. Now, that it is so, can I help feeling separated?"
+
+"By Heavens! Lady Rose--" The young man checked himself suddenly,
+adding, with haughty decision, "We have dropped into a strange
+discussion, and are handling the name of a young girl with less
+delicacy than becomes me, at least. Shall we speak of something else?"
+
+A flood of haughty crimson, and a struggle against the tears that rose
+in spite of herself, was all the reply this curt speech received from
+Lady Rose. The poor girl was not quite sure of her own disinterested
+judgment. For the world, she would not have said a word against Ruth,
+believing that word false; but she was conscious of such infinite
+relief when the news came to her of the engagement between Ruth Jessup
+and Storms, that the joy of it made her self-distrustful. How could
+she be glad that a creature so bright, so delicate, and thoroughly
+well-bred, should be mated with this keen, sinister man, whom no one
+loved, and who was held, she knew well, in little respect by his own
+class? Was she willing to see this sacrifice, that her own jealous
+fears might be appeased, and did Walton Hurst suspect the feelings
+which were a wound to her own delicacy? Were his last brief words a
+reproach to her?
+
+Tears of wounded pride, and bitter self-distrust, rose to her eyes,
+so thick and fast, that the lady almost fled from the room, that Hurst
+might not hear the sobs that she had no power to suppress.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LI.
+
+THE GODMOTHER'S MISTAKE.
+
+
+Young Hurst was scarcely conscious that he was left alone. His feeble
+strength was taxed to the utmost. That one burst of indignant feeling
+had left his breath in thrall, and his limbs quivering. At length he
+became conscious that Lady Rose was gone, and starting up, with a
+sudden effort of strength, flung open the glass door, which led out
+upon a flower-terrace, and would have passed through on his way to the
+cottage, for his brain was all on fire, but that Mrs. Mason stood
+there chatting to one of the under-gardeners, who was trimming the
+rose-bushes, while he talked with her.
+
+"Mercy on me!" cried the dame, breaking off her stream of gossip, with
+a cry of amazement, "if there isn't the young master, looking like the
+beautiful tall ghost of his own dear self. Never mind cutting the
+flowers now. I'll be back for them presently."
+
+Young Hurst had forced his strength too far; a swift dizziness seized
+upon him, and, but for a garden-chair, that stood near, he must have
+fallen before the good housekeeper reached him. As it was, he half lay
+upon the iron seat, grasping it with his hands, or he would have
+entirely dropped to the ground.
+
+"My master! My dear young master!" cried the good woman, half-lifting
+him to a sitting posture. "What could have tempted you out in this
+state? No wonder you were taken faint, and this the first time
+down-stairs. There, now, the fresh wind is doing you good. Dear me, it
+gives one a pleasure to see you smile again."
+
+"The air is sweet, and you are very kind, Mason. I felt so strong a
+minute ago; but see where it has ended."
+
+"Oh, that is nothing. The first step always counts for the most.
+To-day across the terrace--to-morrow in the park!"
+
+"Do you think so, Mason? Do you really think so?"
+
+"Think so? Of course! Young people get up so quickly. If it were me
+now, or that old man at the garden cottage, there would be no
+telling."
+
+"You have seen him, then? Is he better? Is he--"
+
+"Seen him? Of course I have. It is a heavy walk, but Webb told me how
+eagerly you took to the strawberries; so I bade Ruthy save the ripest
+for you every morning; not that she needed telling, for she has picked
+every one of them, with her own fingers, and the flowers, too."
+
+"Indeed!" murmured the young man, and he smiled as if the strawberries
+were melting in his mouth.
+
+"Yes, indeed, this morning, when she got here with her little basket
+full, her fingers were red with them; for she came directly from the
+beds, that you might have them in their morning-dew, as if they would
+be the better for that, foolish child."
+
+"Is she well? Is she looking well, Mason?"
+
+"What, Ruthy? No; I can't just say that. With so much sickness in the
+house, how should she? But a rose is a rose, whether it be white or
+red."
+
+"Does she ever inquire about me, Mason? We used to be play-fellows,
+you know."
+
+"Inquire? As if those great eyes of hers had done anything but ask
+questions; but then years divide people of her rank and yours.
+Children who play together as equals are master and servant as they
+become men and women, and my goddaughter is not one to forget her
+place."
+
+A faint smile quivered over Hurst's lips.
+
+"No, she is not one to forget her place," he murmured, tenderly. Then,
+remembering himself, he said, with an attempt at carelessness, "But is
+there not some foolish story afloat about young Storms? That might
+trouble her, I should think."
+
+"Trouble her? Why, the child only laughs, as if it was the most
+maidenly thing on earth to be roaming about with the young man by
+moonlight and starlight, for that matter, and protesting to her best
+friends that there is nothing in it; that she has no thoughts of
+marrying him, and never leaves the cottage on any pretence after
+night-fall. Of course young women think such things no lies, and never
+expect to be believed; but Ruthy has been brought up better, and need
+not attempt to throw sand into her godmother's eyes, whatever she does
+with the rest of the world."
+
+"You speak as if you believed all this nonsense," said Hurst, with
+quick fire in his eyes.
+
+"Believe it? Why, there isn't a man on the estate who has not seen
+them, over and over again. Not that there is harm in it, because old
+Storms and Jessup have agreed upon it while they were children, and
+Ruth was ever obedient. Only I don't like her way of denying what
+everybody knows, especially to me, who have been a mother to her. It
+isn't just what I had a right to expect, now, is it, Master Walton?"
+
+"I cannot tell; your statement seems so strange."
+
+"Oh, it is only the old story. Girls never will tell the truth about
+such matters; besides, I do not wonder that my goddaughter is just a
+little shamefaced about her sweetheart. He isn't one to boast of
+overmuch; though, they tell me, no needle was ever so sharp on money.
+There he beats old Storms, out and out. Jessup has laid by a pretty
+penny for his child, to say nothing of what I may do. So Ruthy will
+not go away from home empty-handed, and one may be sure he knows it."
+
+Walton Hurst broke into a light laugh, but he became serious at once,
+and, looking kindly on the genial old woman, said, "You always were
+good to her, God bless you!"
+
+"Thank you, for saying so; but who could help it, the pretty little
+orphan? It was like taking a bird into one's heart."
+
+"It was, indeed," answered Hurst, thinking of himself, rather than the
+old woman.
+
+"And then to think that she must fly off into another nest. Well,
+well, girls will be girls. Speaking of that, here comes my Lady Rose,
+looking more like a lily to my thinking, so I will go my way."
+
+Mrs. Mason did go her way, leaving the young man for a while perfectly
+alone, for, though Lady Rose was hovering about her own pretty
+boudoir, she did not come fairly out of its shelter, waiting, in her
+maidenly reserve, for some sign that her presence out of doors would
+be welcome.
+
+No such sign was given her, for Hurst was greatly disturbed by what he
+had heard, and almost frantic with desire to see Ruth, and hear a
+contradiction of these base reports from her own lips. Not that he
+doubted her, or gave one moment's credence to rumors so improbable,
+but, with returning health, came a feverish desire to see the young
+creature for whom he had been willing to sacrifice everything, and
+redeem her, so far as he could, from the snare into which he had
+guided her. In his hot impetuosity, he had involved himself and her in
+a labyrinth of difficulties that led, as he could not help seeing, in
+his calmer moments, to deception, if not dishonor.
+
+"I will atone for it all," he said to himself. "The moment I am strong
+enough to face his just resentment, my father shall know everything.
+God grant that the disappointment will only rest with him," he added,
+as his disturbed mind turned on Lady Rose with a thrill of
+compunction. "In my mad haste I may have; but no, no! she is too
+proud, too thoroughbred for a grand passion. It is only such reckless
+fools as I am that risk all at a single throw. But Ruth, my sweet
+young wife, how could I force this miserable deception on her? Had I
+but possessed the courage to assert my own independent manhood, my
+dear father would have had less to forgive, and I--But no matter, I
+have made my bed, and must lie in it, which would be nothing if she
+did not suffer also."
+
+Thus the young man sat thinking, while Lady Rose flitted in and out of
+the little boudoir, striving to trill soft snatches of song and hide
+under music the anguish that made her so restless.
+
+Hurst heard these soft gushes of melody, and mocked his previous
+anxiety with a smile.
+
+"What a presumptuous cad I am, to think that she will know a regret,"
+he muttered, with a sense of relief.
+
+Lady Rose opened the glass door, and looked out smiling, as if care
+had never touched her heart.
+
+"Shall I come and read to you?" she said.
+
+"No," he answered, rising. "I will come to you."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LII.
+
+SITTING AT THE WINDOW.
+
+
+Ruth Jessup had no courage to attempt another interview with her
+bridegroom. Every morning she made an excuse to visit "The Rest" with
+fruit from her own garden, always accompanied by the choicest flowers
+arranged with a touch of loving art, which he began to read eagerly,
+now that he knew from whom they came. Once or twice she met Sir Noel,
+who, for the first time in his life, seemed to avoid her. The pleasant
+greeting which her rare beauty and brightness had been sure to win
+from him, no longer welcomed her; but was enchanged for a grave bow,
+and sometimes--so her tender conscience read the change--by a look of
+reproach. Lady Rose she purposely shunned; partly because a sense of
+deception hung heavily upon her, and partly because of the restless
+jealousy, which sprang out of her own intense love, that admitted no
+other worshipper near her idol.
+
+Mrs. Mason, too, had taken to lecturing her, making her discourse
+offensive by constant allusions to young Storms, and the household
+arrangements which must soon be made at the farm. No denial or protest
+left the least impression on the good dame, who had made up her mind
+that such things were to be expected from over-sensitive girls like
+Ruth, and must not be set down against them as falsehoods, being, at
+the worst, only a forgivable exaggeration of natural modesty. Besides,
+she had taken an opportunity to speak to the young man himself, who
+had laughed knowingly when she told him of Ruth's denial of all
+engagement between them, and replied that a woman of her age ought to
+be old enough to understand that a girl's "no" always meant "yes" when
+the time came. For his part, he was only waiting for the lease to be
+signed. Anyway, Ruth would set no day till that was done, and no blame
+either. So if Mrs. Mason wanted to do her goddaughter a good turn and
+stop people from talking, she had better help that on. Everybody knew
+that she had great influence with Sir Noel, and the lease was all that
+was wanted to make things go smoothly between him and her goddaughter.
+
+Against all this evidence it is not wonderful that the housekeeper
+went quietly on with her preparations, and gave no heed to Ruth's
+denials, tearful and even angry as they often were.
+
+All this was very hard on Ruth, who found herself miserably baffled at
+every point. All her friends seemed to have dropped away from her.
+Their very affection was turned into mockery by persistent disbelief
+of all she said. She still hovered about the great house each morning
+as a frightened bird flutters around its nest, but with little chance
+of satisfaction, for, except the housekeeper's room, all the
+establishment seemed closed to her.
+
+One day the poor girl saw her husband on the flower-terrace, moving
+slowly up and down among the roses, and a cry of such exquisite
+delight broke from her, that Mrs. Mason rose from her easy-chair and
+came to the window, curious to know what had called it forth.
+
+What was going on? What had she seen to brighten her face so? Had the
+sullen old peacock at last spread himself, or was she wondering at the
+great bloom of roses? Something out of the common had happened to set
+that pale face into such a glow. Would Ruth tell her what it was?
+
+No, Ruth could not tell her, for the color had all died out of her
+face while the old woman was talking, and the glorious show of flowers
+had turned to a misty cloud, in which a beautiful young woman was
+floating, angel-like, toward her husband, and he went to meet her.
+
+Lifting both hands to her face, Ruth shut out the sight, and when Mrs.
+Mason insisted on questioning her, turned upon the good woman like a
+hunted doe, and, stamping her foot, declared, with great tears
+flashing in her eyes, that nothing was the matter. Only--only so much
+watching made her nervous, hysterical, some people might call it; but
+that did not matter. Laughing and crying amounted to the same thing.
+She would go home. There nobody would trouble themselves about her.
+
+With this reckless burst of feeling, Ruth flung herself away from the
+outstretched arms of her half-frightened godmother, and ran home,
+sobbing as she went. Would this miserable state of anxiety never end?
+Must she go on forever with this awful feeling gnawing at her heart?
+Would this longing for protection, this baffled tenderness, ever meet
+with a response? Ah, she understood now the depths of God's punishment
+to poor Eve, when the angel was placed at the gates of Paradise to
+keep her out. Was Lady Rose chosen to guard her Paradise, because of
+the sin through which she had entered it? How like a glorious angel
+she looked in the soft whiteness and tender blue of garments that
+floated around her like a cloud. How bright and rich were the waves
+and curls of her hair! Surely no angel ever could be more beautiful!
+
+This passion of feeling, which combined so many elements of unrest,
+was thrown into abeyance when Ruth got home; for, looking up, with her
+hand on the gate, she saw her father sitting at the chamber-window
+waiting for her. It was the first time he had crossed the floor since
+his illness. The thought that he had made the dangerous attempt alone
+struck her with dismay.
+
+"Oh, father, how could you?" was her first anxious question as she
+entered the room. "Have I been gone so long that you got impatient?"
+
+"No, no! I felt better, and took a longing to look on the garden. I
+never was so many days without seeing it before," said the old man. "I
+think it has done me good, child."
+
+"I hope so. I hope so, father!"
+
+"See how well I walk. Never fear, lass. The old father will soon be
+about again."
+
+The gardener got up from his chair with some difficulty and walked
+across the room, waving Ruth aside when she offered to support him.
+
+"Nay, nay, let me try it alone," he said, with feeble triumph.
+"To-morrow I shall be getting down-stairs. I only hope the young
+master is as strong."
+
+"Oh, father, he is better; I saw him on the terrace this morning."
+
+"Ah, that is brave. But how did he look? Thin, like me?"
+
+"No, not like you, father. He was always more slender, you know; but I
+think he was pale."
+
+"Of course, of course. He has a hard bout. Not this, though, and I'm
+thankful for it."
+
+Jessup put one hand to his wounded breast as he spoke, and Ruth
+observed, with anxiety, that he breathed with difficulty.
+
+"You must not try to walk again, father," she said, arranging his
+pillows and wiping the drops from his forehead. "It exhausts you."
+
+"Nothing of the kind, lass. I shall be all the stronger in an hour.
+Why, at the end of three days, I mean to walk over to 'The Rest,' and
+have a talk with the young master."
+
+"Oh, how I wish you could!"
+
+"Could? I will. I thought he would have answered my letter by a word,
+if no more. But I have no doubt he is o'er weak for writing. Anyhow,
+we shall soon know."
+
+Again Ruth breathed freely. The father was right. In a few days she
+would hear directly from her husband--perhaps see him. If he wished
+it, as she did, nothing could keep him away, now that he had once gone
+into the open air. Surely she was brave enough to bear her burden a
+little longer.
+
+It was growing dark, now. Jessup had been at rest most of the time;
+for, in his feeble state, crossing that room had wearied him as no
+journey could have done in health.
+
+Ruth had been restless as a caged bird all day. Her load of
+apprehension regarding her father had been relieved only that the
+keener trouble, deep down in her woman's heart, should come uppermost
+with new force. Those two persons among the roses on the terrace
+haunted her like one of those pictures which the brain admires and the
+heart loathes. Was not this man her husband? Had he not sworn to love
+her, and her alone? What right had Lady Rose by his side? How dared
+she look into those eyes whose love-light was all her own only a few
+weeks ago? Alas! those weary, weary weeks! How they had dragged and
+torn at her life! How old she had grown since that circlet of gold had
+been hidden in her bosom!
+
+Ruth was very sad that evening,--sad, and strangely haunted. It seemed
+to her that, more than ever, she was waiting for some great
+catastrophe. Black clouds seemed gathering all around her;
+difficulties that she had no strength to fathom or combat seemed to
+people the clouds with ruin. Yet all was vague and dreary. The poor
+child was worn out with loneliness and watching.
+
+All at once she heard a footstep. Not the one she dreaded, but the
+slow, faltering walk of some person who hesitated, or paused, perhaps,
+for breath.
+
+Up to her feet the girl sprang, leaned forward, and listened, holding
+down her heart with both trembling hands, and checking the breath on
+her parted lips.
+
+The door opened softly.
+
+"Ruth!"
+
+She sprang forward, her arms outstretched, a glorious smile
+transfiguring her face.
+
+"Oh, my beloved! My husband!"
+
+She led him to the little couch on which so many bitter tears had told
+of her misery. He was worn out with walking, and fell upon it, smiling
+as she raised his head from the cushions, and pillowed it on her
+bosom, folding in his weakness with her young arms.
+
+"It may kill me, but I could not keep away. Oh, my darling, how I have
+longed for a sight of you!" said the young husband.
+
+Ruth gathered him closer in her arms, and, forgetting everything but
+his presence, kissed the very words from his smiling lips.
+
+"Ah, you have come. It is enough! It is enough!"
+
+Something startled her; a faint noise near the door. She lifted her
+head, and there stood her father, looking wildly upon her--upon him.
+
+Before she could move or speak, the old man swayed, uttered one faint
+moan, and fell across the threshold.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIII.
+
+DEATH.
+
+
+While Ruth had thought her father resting from his dangerous
+exertions, that poor man had been aroused into keen wakefulness which
+brought back all his old powers of thought. His brain had been cleared
+from the dull mists of fever, and the haze that had gathered over his
+memory was swept away by the physical effort he had made. He began to
+see things clearly that had seemed fantastic and dreamlike till then.
+The events of that night, when he received his wound, came out before
+him in pictures. The great cedar of Lebanon, the face he had seen for
+a moment gleaming through the darkness, everything came to his memory
+with the vividness of thoughts that burn like fire in an enfeebled
+brain, driving out sleep and everything but themselves.
+
+Slowly and surely dreams melted away into nothingness. For, in the
+state of nervous excitement which sometimes comes with returning
+powers, after long mental wanderings, all his ideas were supremely
+vivid.
+
+One by one he arranged past events in his mind. From the time that he
+met young Storms in the park on his way home that fatal night, and
+received the first cruel idea of his daughter's shame, for which he
+cast the young man to the earth in his rage, as we wrestle with a mad
+dog, which leaves its poison in our veins. He traced events down to
+the moment when a flash of fire seemed to pass through him under the
+cedars, and he awoke, helpless, in the little chamber whose walls
+enclosed him now. Then he remembered the letter he had written to
+young Hurst; hours before, he could not have given its import, or have
+repeated a word of it. But now, it came before him like the rest, a
+visible substance. He saw the very handwriting, uneven and irregular,
+such as he had left in copy-books years before, and it rose up clearly
+in judgment against him now. Reading these great, uncouth letters in
+his mind, he groaned aloud.
+
+That which, in his fever, he had resolved to keep secret forever, he
+had written out in a wild effort to spare anxiety to another,
+suffering like himself. What if that letter should fall into the hands
+of an enemy? It conveyed a charge. It hinted at something that might
+bring terrible suspicions on the young man who had been dear to him
+almost as his own child. The evil he had tried to prevent had been
+drawn ominously near by his own hand.
+
+The old man lay there, wounding himself with the most bitter
+reproaches. Into what mad folly had the fever thrown him!
+
+William Jessup started up in bed, as these thoughts came crowding to
+his brain. He would at once redeem the evil that had been done. That
+letter should be revoked.
+
+Yes, he would do it that moment; then, perhaps, he might sleep, for
+the intense working of his brain was more than he could endure. It was
+like the rush and thud of an engine, over which the master-hand had
+lost control.
+
+Ruth Jessup's little desk lay open on the table close by the bed,
+where she had been using it. Pen and paper lay upon it, inviting the
+sick man to act at once. He was still wrapped in a long flannel
+dressing-gown, and his feet were thrust into slippers, which the hands
+of his child had wrought with scrolls of glittering bead-work and
+clusters of flowers--soft, dainty slippers, which made no noise as he
+dropped his feet over the bedside, and drew the table toward him with
+hands nerved to steadiness by a firm resolve.
+
+Truly, that great hand shook, and the pen sometimes leaped from the
+paper as some sharp, nervous thrill for a moment disabled it. But for
+a time excitement was strength, and to that was added a firm will: so
+the pen worked on, linking letter to letter, and word to word, until
+the white surface of a page was black with them. Then he turned the
+sheet over, pressed it down with both hands, and went on until his
+task was done.
+
+By this time his eyes were heavy with fatigue, and a dusky fever-flush
+burned on his cheeks. He folded the sheet of paper, which was well
+written over, and directed it on the blank side to "Walton Hurst,"
+then he pushed the table aside, leaned back upon the pillow, and gave
+way to the exhaustion which this great effort had brought upon him.
+Still, the poor man could not sleep, the brain had been too much
+disturbed. While his body lay supine, and his hands were almost
+helplessly folded in his flannel dressing-gown, those deep-set eyes
+were wide open, and burning with internal fires.
+
+Thus the sun went down, and a glory of crimson gold and purple swept
+through the window, slowly darkening the room.
+
+All this time, Ruth was below, sad and thoughtful, gleaning a little
+pleasure from the fact that all was silent overhead, which indicated a
+long, healthful sleep for her father, after his first effort to cross
+the room. She was very careful to make no noise that might disturb the
+beloved sleeper, and thus sat hushed and watchful, when the sweet
+shock of her husband's presence aroused her.
+
+This noise had reached the chamber where Jessup lay.
+
+"She is below," he thought, struggling up from his bed. "This very
+hour she shall carry my letter to 'The Rest.' Will she ever forgive me
+for doubting her, my sweet, good child? Ah, how did I find heart to
+wrong her so?"
+
+With the letter clasped in one hand, and that buried in the pocket of
+his dressing-gown, the old man moved through the dusky starlight that
+filled his room, and down the narrow stairs slowly, for he was weak,
+and softly, for his slippers made no noise. He paused a moment in the
+passage, holding by the banister, then, guided by an arrow of light
+that shot through the door, which was ajar, stood upon the threshold,
+struck through the heart by what he saw--wounded again and unto death
+by the words he heard.
+
+"It was true! it was true!" The words said to him by that vile man in
+the park that night was a fact that struck him with a sharper pang
+than the rifle had given. His child--his Ruth, his milk-white
+lamb--where was she? "Whose head was that resting upon her bosom?
+Whose voice was that murmuring in her ear?"
+
+The pain of that awful moment made him reel upon his feet, a cry broke
+to his lips, bringing waves of red blood with it. His hands lost their
+hold on the door-frame, and his body fell across the threshold.
+
+For a moment two white, scared faces looked down upon the fallen man,
+then at each other, dazed by the sudden horror. Then Ruth sank to the
+floor, with a piteous cry, lifted his head to her lap, and moaning
+over it, besought her father to look up, to speak one word, to lift
+but a finger, anything to prove that he was not dead.
+
+Hurst bent over her, feeble and trembling. He had no power to lift the
+old man from her arms, but leaned against the door-frame paralyzed.
+
+"Oh, wipe his lips, they are so red! Help me to lift him up," cried
+Ruth, with woeful entreaty. "He is not dead, you know. Remember how he
+fainted before, but that was not death. Help me! Oh, Walton, help me,
+or something dreadful may come to him."
+
+The agony of this pleading aroused all that remained of strength in
+the young husband's frame. He stooped down, and attempted to remove
+the old man from the girl's clinging arms.
+
+"No, no!" she cried. "I can take care of him best. Bring me some
+brandy--brandy, I say! You will find it in--in the cupboard. Brandy,
+quick--quick, or he may never come-to!"
+
+Hurst went to the closet, brought forth a flask of brandy, and
+attempted to force some drops between those parted lips, through which
+the teeth were gleaming with ghastly whiteness.
+
+"He cannot drink! Bring a glass. Father! father! try to move--try to
+swallow. It frightens me so! Ah, try to understand! It frightens me
+so!"
+
+All efforts were in vain. Hurst knelt down, and, with a hopeless
+effort, felt for the pulse that would never beat again.
+
+"His head is growing heavier. See how he leans on me! Of course, he
+knows--only--only--Oh, Walton! There is no breath!" whispered the poor
+girl. "What can I do--what can I do?"
+
+"Ruth, my poor child, I fear he will never breathe again."
+
+"Never breathe again! Never breathe again! Why, that is death!"
+
+"Yes, Ruth, it is death," answered the young man, folding the
+dressing-gown over the body, reverently, as if it had been the
+vestment of some old Roman.
+
+"Then you and I have killed him," said the girl, in a hoarse whisper.
+"You and I!"
+
+The young man made no answer, but kindly and gently attempted to
+remove the body that rested so heavily upon her.
+
+"Not yet--oh, not yet! I cannot give him up! He might live long enough
+to pardon me."
+
+"If good men live hereafter, and you believe that, Ruth, he knows that
+concealment is all the sin you have committed against him," answered
+Hurst, gently.
+
+"But that has brought my poor--poor father here," said the girl,
+looking piteously up into the young man's face.
+
+"Ruth--Ruth, do not reproach me! God knows I blame myself bitterly
+enough," he said, at last.
+
+"Blame yourself? Oh, no! I alone am to blame. It was I that tempted
+you. I that listened--that loved, and made you love me.
+Father--father! Oh, hear this! Stay with us! Oh, stay in your old home
+long enough for that! He is not in fault. He never said a word or gave
+me a look that was not noble. He never meant to harm me, or--or offend
+you. I--I alone am the guilty one."
+
+"Ruth, Ruth! you are breaking my heart!" whispered Hurst.
+
+"Breaking your heart! Oh, I have done enough of that, miserable wretch
+that I am!" answered the girl, speaking more and more faintly. "If I
+could only make him understand how sorry I am; but oh, Walton! I think
+he is growing cold. I have tried to warm him here in my arms, but his
+cheek lies chilly against mine, and my--my heart is cold as--as his."
+
+The head drooped on her bosom; her arms slackened their hold, and fell
+away from the form they had embraced, and she settled down by her
+father, lifeless, for the time, as he was--for William Jessup was
+dead. A great shock had cast him down with his face in the dust.
+Blasted, as it were, by a sudden conviction of his daughter's shame,
+he had gone into eternity as if struck by a flash of lightning.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIV.
+
+THE GARDENER'S FUNERAL.
+
+
+A funeral moved slowly from the gardener's house. Out through the
+porch, under the clustering vines he had planted, William Jessup was
+carried by his own neighbors, with more than usual solemnity. His
+death had been fearfully sudden, and preceding circumstances
+surrounded it with weird interest. That which had been considered a
+mysterious assault, which no one cared to investigate too closely, now
+took the proportions of a murder, and many a sun-browned brow was
+heavy with doubt and dread as his friends stood ready to carry the
+good man out of the home his conduct had honored, and his hands had
+beautified.
+
+Many persons out of his own sphere of life were gathered in the little
+cottage, seeking to console the poor girl, who was left alone in it,
+and to show fitting respect to the dead. Among these were Sir Noel and
+his household. Lady Rose came, subdued and saddened with womanly pity.
+Mrs. Mason, full of grief and motherly anxiety, took charge within
+doors, pausing in her endeavors every few moments to comfort Ruth,
+whose sorrow carried her to the very brink of despair.
+
+Many people came from the village, where Jessup had been very popular,
+and among them old Storms, who, with his son, kept aloof, looking
+darkly on the crowd that passed into the dwelling.
+
+No one seemed to remark that the young heir of "Norston's Rest" was
+absent; for it was known that he had taxed his strength too far, and
+was now paying the penalty of over exertion by a relapse which
+threatened to prostrate him altogether.
+
+In the throng of villagers that came in groups through the park was
+the landlady of the public house, and with her Judith Hart, who was
+too insignificant a person for criticism, or the eager excitement of
+her manner might have arrested attention. But safe in her low estate,
+the girl moved about in the crowd, until the house was filled, and
+half the little concourse of friends stood reverently on the outside
+waiting for the coffin to be brought forth. Then she drew close to
+young Storms, who stood apart from his father, and whispered, "You
+beckoned me--what for?"
+
+Storms answered her in a cautious whisper. Nodding her head, the girl
+replied:
+
+"But after that, will you come to the public, or shall I--"
+
+"To the Lake House, after the funeral," was the impatient rejoinder.
+
+"I will be there, never fear."
+
+With these words Judith glided off through the crowd, and passing
+around the house, concealed herself in the thickets of blooming plants
+in which the garden terminated.
+
+From this concealment she watched the funeral train file out from the
+porch and wind its way down the great chestnut avenue on its course to
+the churchyard. She saw Ruth, the last of that little household,
+following the coffin with bowed head, and footsteps that faltered in
+her short walk between the porch and the gate. Wicked as the girl was,
+a throb of compassion stirred her heart for the young creature whom
+she had so hated in her jealous wrath, but could pity in such deep
+affliction.
+
+Slowly and solemnly the funeral procession swept from the house, and
+passed, like a black cloud, down the avenue. The park became silent.
+The cottage was still as death, for every living thing had passed from
+it when the body of its master was carried forth. Then holding her
+breath, and treading softly, as if her sacrilegious foot were coming
+too near an altar, Judith Hart stole into the house. The door was
+latched, not locked. She felt sure of that, for, in deep grief, who
+takes heed of such things? A single touch of her finger, and she would
+be mistress of that little home for an hour at least. Still her heart
+quaked and her step faltered. It seemed as if she were on the
+threshold of a great crime, but had no power to retreat.
+
+She was in the porch; her hand was stretched out, feeling for the
+latch, when something dragged at her arm. A sharp cry broke from her;
+then, turning to face her enemy, she found only the branch of a
+climbing rose that had broken loose from the kindred vines, whose
+thorns clung to her sleeve.
+
+"What a fool I am!" thought the girl, tearing the thorny branch away
+from her arm. "What would he think of me? There!"
+
+The door was open. She glided in, and shut it in haste, drawing a bolt
+inside.
+
+"Bah! how musty the air is! With the shutters closed, the room seems
+like a grave. So much the better! No one can look through."
+
+The little sitting-room was neatly arranged. Nothing but the chairs
+was out of place. Judith could see that, through all the gloom.
+
+"Not here," she thought. "Nothing that he wants can be here. Her room
+first: that is the place to search."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LV.
+
+SEARCHING A HOUSE.
+
+
+Up the crooked staircase the girl turned and shut herself into a
+little chamber, opposite that in which Jessup had suffered his days of
+pain--a dainty chamber, in which the windows and bed were draped like
+a summer cloud, and on a toilet, white as virgin snow, a small mirror
+was clouded in like ice. Even the coarse nature of Judith Hart was
+struck by the pure stillness of the place she had come to desecrate,
+and she stood just within the threshold, as if terrified by her own
+audacity. "If he were here, I wonder if he would dare touch a thing?"
+she thought, going back to her purpose. "I wish he had done it
+himself; I don't like it."
+
+She did not like it; being a woman, how could she? But the power of
+that bad man was strong upon her, and directly the humane thrill left
+her bosom. She was his slave again.
+
+"Something may be here," she said, sweeping aside the delicate muslin
+of the toilet with her rude hands. "Ladies keep their choice finery
+and love-letters in such places, I know; and she puts on more airs
+than any lady of the land. Ah, nothing but slippers and boots that a
+child might wear, fit for Lady Rose herself, with their high heels and
+finikin stitching. Such things for a gardener's daughter! Dear me,
+what is the use of a toilet if one cannot load it with pincushions,
+and things to hold ear-rings, and brooches, and such like! Nothing but
+boots--such boots, too--under the curtains, and on the top a
+prayer-book, bound in velvet. Well, this is something."
+
+A small chair stood by the toilet, in which Judith seated herself,
+while she turned over the leaves of the book, and, pausing at the
+first page, read, "Ruth Jessup, from her godmother."
+
+"Oh, that's old Mason. Not much that he wants here. No wonder the lass
+is so puffed up. Velvet books, and a room like this! Well, well, I
+never had a godmother, and sleep in a garret, under the roof. That's
+the difference. But we shall see. Only let me find something that
+pleases him here, and this room is nothing to the one he will give me.
+Thin muslin. Poh! I will have nothing less than silks and satins, like
+a born lady. That much I'm bent on."
+
+Flinging down the prayer-book, without further examination, Judith
+proceeded to search the apartment thoroughly. She examined all the
+dainty muslins and bits of lace, the ribbons and humbler trifles
+contained in the old-fashioned bureau. She even thrust her hand under
+the snowy pillows of the bed, but found nothing save the pretty,
+lady-like trifles that awoke some of the old, bitter envy as she
+handled them.
+
+"Now for the old man's room. Something is safe to turn up there," she
+thought, conquering a superstitious feeling that had kept her from
+this room till the last. "It's an awful thing to ask of one. I wonder
+how he would feel prowling through a dead man's chamber like a thief,
+which I shall be if I find papers, and taking them amounts to that;
+but he would give me no peace till I promised to come."
+
+The room from which Jessup had been carried out was in chilling order.
+A fine linen sheet lay on the bed, turned back in a large wave as it
+had been removed from the body when it was placed in the coffin. A
+hot-house plant stood on the window-sill, perishing for want of
+water. The stand upon which Ruth's desk was placed had been set away
+in a corner, and to this Judith went at once. She found nothing,
+however, save a few scraps of paper, containing some date, or a verse
+of poetry that seemed copied from memory; two or three sheets of
+notepaper had a word or two written on them, as if an impulse to write
+had seized upon the owner, but was given up with the first words,
+which were invariably, "My dear--" The next word seemed hard to guess
+at, for it never found its way to paper; so Judith discovered nothing
+in her pillage of Ruth's desk, and the failure made her angry.
+
+"He'll never believe I looked thoroughly, though what I am to find,
+goodness only knows. Every written paper that I lay my hands on must
+be brought to him. That is what he said, and what I am to do. But
+written papers ain't to be expected in a house like this, I should
+say. How am I to get what isn't here, that's the question? Anyway,
+I'll make a good search. Not much chance here, but there's no harm in
+looking."
+
+Judith flung the closet-door open, and peered in, still muttering to
+herself, "Nothing but clothes. Jessup's fustian-coat. Poor old fellow!
+He'll never wear it again. His Sunday-suit, too, just as he left it
+hanging. No shelf, no--Stay, here is something on the floor. Who knows
+what may be under it?"
+
+Judith stooped down, and drew a long garment of gray flannel from the
+closet, where it seemed to have been cast down in haste. It was
+Jessup's dressing-gown, which had been taken from him after death.
+
+"Nothing but the poor old fellow's clothes," she thought, growing
+pale and chilly, from some remembrance that possessed her at the sight
+of those empty garments. "I will throw the old dressing-gown back, and
+give it up. The sight of them makes me sick. Well, I've searched and
+searched. What more can he want of me?"
+
+Judith Hart gathered up the dressing-gown in her hands, and was about
+to replace it, when a folded paper dropped to her feet. She snatched
+the paper, thrust the dressing-gown back to the closet, and turned to
+a window, unfolding her prize as she went.
+
+"His writing. The same great hooked letters, the same hard work in
+writing! 'To Walton Hurst.' It might be the same, only there is more
+of it, and the lines ain't quite so scraggly." Even as she talked,
+Judith held Jessup's letter to an opening in the shutter, and read it
+eagerly.
+
+More than once Judith read the letter that Jessup had written with his
+last dying strength, at first with surprise deepening into terror as
+she went on. Then she fell into solemn thoughtfulness. Being a
+creature of vivid imagination, she could not stand in that
+death-chamber with a writing purloined from the murdered man's
+garments in her hand without a shiver of dread running through all her
+frame.
+
+In truth, she was fearfully disturbed, and the very blood turned cold
+as it left her face when she thrust the paper into her bosom,
+shrinking from it with shudderings all the time.
+
+After this, she remained some minutes by the window, lost in thoughts
+that revealed themselves plainer than language as they passed over her
+mobile features.
+
+Then a sound, far down in the park, startled her and she left the
+house absorbed and saddened. It was well for her chances of escape
+that the girl left Jessup's cottage at once; for she was hardly out of
+sight when a group of neighbors from the funeral cortege came back,
+haunting those rooms with sorrowful countenances, and striving with
+great kindness to win the lone girl, thus suddenly made an orphan,
+from the terrible grief into which she had fallen.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LVI.
+
+A MOTHER'S HOPEFULNESS.
+
+
+Among the persons who had come to the gardener's funeral old Mrs.
+Storms was most conspicuous, not only from her high position among the
+tenants, but because of the relations her son was supposed to hold
+with the daughter, who was beloved by them all. After the funeral
+several neighbors offered to stay with Ruth, but in her wild
+wretchedness she refused them all--kindly, sweetly, as it was in her
+nature to do, but with a positiveness that admitted of no further
+urgency.
+
+Even Mrs. Mason, who now considered herself as something more than
+friend or godmother, felt constrained to go away and leave the poor
+girl to the isolation she pleaded for; though with some little
+resentment at the bottom of her kind heart.
+
+Mrs. Storms was not to be dissuaded from all kindliness so easily.
+When the neighbors were gone she came into the room where Ruth was
+sitting, and in a gentle, motherly fashion, sat down by the mourner
+and strove to comfort her.
+
+"Come," she said, taking the girl's cold hands in the clasp of her
+hard-working fingers, "come, lass, and stay with me. This house is so
+full of gloom that you will pine to death in it. Our home is large,
+and bright with sunshine. You shall have the lady's chamber, which
+will be all your own some blessed day, God willing."
+
+The good woman caught her breath here, for something like an electric
+shock flashed through the hands she clasped, and Ruth made a struggle
+to free herself from the thraldom of kindness that was torturing her.
+
+"I know--I know this isn't the time to speak of weddings; but you have
+no mother, and I never had a girl in the house; so if you would only
+come now, and be company for me--only company for the old woman--it
+would be better and happier for us all."
+
+Ruth did not answer this loving appeal. She only closed her eyes and
+shuddered faintly. Great emotions had exhausted themselves with her.
+
+"Be sure, Ruth, it is not my son alone who loves you. From the first I
+have always looked upon you as my own lass, and a prettier no mother
+need want, or a better, either."
+
+"No, no, you must not say that," Ruth cried out; for the anguish of
+these praises was more than she could bear. "He thought me pretty--he
+thought me good, and how have I repaid him? Oh, my father, my poor
+dead father, it was love for me that killed him!"
+
+Mrs. Storms was silent a while. She understood this piteous outcry as
+a burst of natural grief, and gave it no deeper significance; but she
+felt the task of comforting the poor girl more difficult than she had
+imagined. What could she say that would not call forth some new cause
+of agitation? The subject which she had fondly trusted in seemed to
+give nothing but pain. Yet no hint had ever reached the woman that the
+attachment of her son was not more than returned by this orphaned
+girl. Perhaps Ruth was wounded that Richard was not there in place of
+his mother. With this possibility in her mind the matron renewed her
+kindly entreaties.
+
+"You must not think it strange, dear, that Richard left the funeral
+without coming back to the cottage. It was that his heart was full of
+the great trouble, and he would not darken the cottage with more than
+you could bear. The father, too--for you must think of him as that,
+dear child--has well nigh broke his heart over the loss of his old
+friend. He's eager as can be to have a daughter in the house, and will
+be good as gold to her."
+
+Ruth did not listen to the subject of these words, but the kindly
+voice soothed her. This old housewife had been a good friend to her
+ever since she could remember, and was trying to comfort her now, as
+if anything approaching comfort could ever reach her life, fearfully
+burdened as it was. Still, there was soothing in the voice. So the
+matron, meeting no opposition, went on:
+
+"We must not talk of what is closest to our hearts just yet; but the
+time will soon come when the old man and I will flit to some smaller
+home, and you shall have the house all for your two selves. It will be
+another place then; for Richard can afford to live more daintily than
+we ever cared for. The garden can be stocked with flowers and made
+pretty as this at the cottage. The barley-field can be seeded back to
+a lawn, and that parlor with the oriel window, where the good man
+stores his fruit, can be made rarely grand with its pictured walls
+and carved mantelpiece."
+
+Still Ruth did not listen; only a fantastic and vague picture of some
+dream-like place was passing through her mind, which the kind old
+neighbor was endeavoring to make her understand. Now and then she felt
+this hazy picture broken up by a jar of pain when Richard Storms was
+mentioned; but even that hated name was so softened by the loving,
+motherly voice that half its bitterness was lost.
+
+"Tell me," said the matron, "when will you come? I made everything
+ready this morning before we left, hoping you would go back with us."
+
+Ruth opened her great sad eyes, and looked into the motherly face
+bending over her.
+
+"You are kind," she said, "so kind, and you were his dear friend. I
+know that well enough; but I cannot fix my mind on anything--only
+this: your voice is sweet; you are good, and wish me to do something
+that I cannot think of yet. Let me rest; my eyes ache with heaviness.
+I have no strength for anything. This is a sad place, and I am sad
+like the rest; if you would leave me now, in all kindness I ask it;
+perhaps the good God might permit me to sleep. Since the night he died
+I have been fearfully awake, sitting by him, you know. Now--now I
+would like to be alone, quite alone. There is something I wish to ask
+of God."
+
+Mrs. Storms yielded to this sad pleading, laid the girl's hands into
+her lap, kissed her forehead and went away, thinking, in her motherly
+innocence:
+
+"The child is worn out, dazed with her great sorrow. I can do nothing
+with her; but Richard will be going to the cottage, and she loves him.
+Ah, who could help it, now that he is so manly and has given up the
+ways that we dreaded might turn to evil! She will listen to him, then
+John and I will have a daughter."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LVII.
+
+WAITING AT THE LAKE HOUSE.
+
+
+During the time that his mother was so kindly persuading Ruth to
+accept a home with her, Richard Storms was pacing the Lake House to
+and fro, like a caged animal waiting for its feeder.
+
+The triumph of his revenge and his love seemed near at hand now.
+Before Jessup's death his power was insufficient, his influence
+feeble, for no one was in haste to take up a wrong which the sufferer
+was the first to ignore. But now the wound had done its work. A man
+had been shot to death, and any subject of Her Majesty had the right
+to call for a full investigation before a magistrate. This
+investigation the young man had resolved to demand.
+
+All that the man wanted now, to complete his power of ruin, was the
+letter which Judith Hart had found drifting through the shrubbery on
+the day she had visited "Norston's Rest," at his own suggestion, in
+order to get a foothold in the establishment and become his willing or
+unconscious spy, as he might be compelled to use her.
+
+That letter was so important to him now that he was ready to do
+anything, promise anything, in order to get possession of it, and
+prowling around and around the old Lake House, he racked his brain for
+some power of inducement by which he could win it from her, and
+perhaps other proofs that she might find in the cottage.
+
+Thus urged to the verge of desperation, by a thirst for revenge on
+young Hurst, and the craving love which Ruth Jessup had rejected with
+so much scorn, the young man awaited with burning impatience the
+coming of his dupe; for up to this time he had failed in making her
+entirely an accomplice.
+
+Judith came down to the lake in great excitement. Storms saw that, as
+she turned from the path and waded through the long, thick rushes on
+the shore, without seeming to heed them.
+
+"You have found something! I see that in your face," he said, as the
+girl darkened the Lake House door. "Give it to me, for I never was so
+eager to be at work. Why don't you speak? Why don't you tell me what
+it is?"
+
+Judith pushed her way into the house and seated herself on the bench,
+where she sat looking at him with an expression in her eyes that
+seemed to forbode revolt.
+
+"Tell me," he said, sitting down by her, "tell me what you have
+discovered. I hope it is something that will clear the way to our
+wedding, for I am getting impatient for it. Nothing but the want of
+that paper has kept me back so long."
+
+The strange expression on Judith's face softened a little. Some good
+was in the girl. The firm hold she had kept on Jessup's dangerous
+letter had been maintained as much from reluctance to bring ruin on an
+innocent man as for her own security. On her way from the gardener's
+cottage, she had taken a rapid survey of the situation, and for the
+first time felt the courage of possessed power.
+
+"You are in terrible haste," she said, "as if the paper I have was
+not enough to win anything you want from Sir Noel."
+
+"But you will not trust me with it. You do not love me well enough for
+that."
+
+"I loved you well enough to give up my home, my poor old father, my
+good name with the neighbors, and become the meanest of servants, only
+to be near you," answered the girl, with deep feeling; "and I love you
+now, oh God, forgive me! better, better than my own wicked soul, or
+you never would have seen me again."
+
+"Still you refuse to give me the one scrap of paper that can bring us
+together," said Storms, reproachfully.
+
+"If I did give it up what would you do with it?"
+
+"Do with it! I will take it to Sir Noel, break down his pride,
+threaten him with the exposure of his son's crime, and wring the lease
+I want from him, with enough money beside to keep my wife a lady."
+
+"But what if I take the paper to Sir Noel, and get all these things
+for myself?"
+
+For an instant Storms was startled, but a single thought restored his
+self-poise.
+
+"There is one thing Sir Noel could not give you."
+
+"What is that?"
+
+"A husband that loves the very ground you walk on."
+
+"Oh, if I could be sure that you loved me like that."
+
+"I do--I do; but how can I wed you without some chance of a living?
+The old man wouldn't take us in without the new lease, and without
+more land I can do nothing."
+
+"Dick! Oh, tell me the truth now. Is that all the use you mean to make
+of this paper?"
+
+"Yes, all! I will swear to it if that will pacify you. The lease, and
+money, down at the time; for a handsome wife must have something to
+dash her neighbors with. That is all I want, and that the paper in
+your bosom will bring me."
+
+Judith lifted a hand to her bosom, and kept it there, still
+hesitating.
+
+"You do not mean to harm the young gentleman? Oh, Richard, you could
+not be so bad as that."
+
+"Harm him! No! I only want to frighten Sir Noel out of his land and
+money. If I once gave the paper to a magistrate, it would be an end of
+that."
+
+"So it would," said Judith, thoughtfully. "Besides--besides--"
+
+"Come, come! Make up your mind, girl!"
+
+"Swear to me, that you will never show the paper to any one but Sir
+Noel--never use it against the young gentleman!"
+
+"Swear! I am ready! If there were a Bible here I would do it now."
+
+"Never mind the Bible! With your hand here, and your eyes looking into
+mine, swear to your promise."
+
+Storms gave a returning grasp to the hand which had seized his, and
+his eyes were lifted for a moment to the bold, black orbs that seemed
+searching him to the soul; but they wavered in an instant, and
+returned her gaze with furtive side-glances, while he repeated the
+oath in language which was profane rather than solemn.
+
+After holding his hand for a minute, in dead silence, Judith dropped
+it, and taking the old portemonnaie from her bosom, gave up old
+Jessup's first letter, but without a word of the other paper.
+
+"There! Remember, I have trusted you."
+
+Storms fairly snatched the paper from her hand, for the cruel joy of
+the moment was too much for his caution.
+
+"Now," he said, with a laugh more repulsive than curses, "I have them
+all in the dust."
+
+"But remember your oath," said Judith, uneasily, for the fierce
+triumph in that face frightened even her.
+
+"I forget nothing!" was the bitter answer, "and will bate nothing--not
+a jot, not a jot."
+
+Storms was half way to the door, as he said this, with the paper
+grasped tightly in his hand.
+
+"But where are you going?" pleaded Judith, following him. "Is there
+nothing more to say?"
+
+"Only this," answered Storms, struck by a shrewd after-thought; "it is
+better that you leave the 'Two Ravens' at once. It is not from the
+tap-room of an inn that a gentleman must take his wife."
+
+Judith looked at him searchingly. There seemed to be reason in his
+suggestion; still she doubted him.
+
+"Where would you have me go, Richard? Back to the old home?"
+
+Storms reflected a moment before he answered.
+
+"It isn't a palace or a castle, like the one you mean to get out of
+that paper," Judith said, impatient of his silence, "but, poor as it
+was, you liked to come there, and the old father would be glad and
+proud to be standing by when we are wedded."
+
+"Yes, I dare say he would be that," answered Storms, with an uneasy
+smile. "Well, as you wish it, the old home is perhaps as safe a place
+as you could stay in."
+
+"But it will not be for long--you promise that?" questioned the girl,
+anxiously.
+
+"Not if Sir Noel comes down handsomely, but I must not be bothered
+while this work is on hand. You will give the landlady warning and go
+at once. Say nothing of where you are going; or perhaps, as she is
+sure to ask questions, it is better to speak of London. You can even
+take the train that way for a short distance, and turn back to the
+station nearest your home. The walk will not be much."
+
+"What, from the station?" said Judith, laughing. "Why the old home is
+a good twenty miles from here, and I walked it all the way, having no
+money."
+
+"Ah, that was when you were fired with jealousy, and I'll be bound you
+did not feel the walk. But we must have no more of that. There is
+money enough to take you home, and something over."
+
+"No, no. I shall have my wages," said the girl, drawing back.
+
+In her mad love she could leave her home and follow this man on foot
+without shame, but something of honest pride withheld her from
+receiving his money.
+
+"What nonsense!" exclaimed Storms, wondering at the color that came
+into her face, while he dropped the gold back into his pocket. "But
+you must give notice at once. We have no time to lose. Now I think of
+it, how much did the landlady know about you at the 'Two Ravens?'"
+
+"Nothing. She thinks I came down from London."
+
+"Not the name? I cannot remember ever hearing it."
+
+"No one but the mistress knew it," said Judith. "My father was of the
+better sort till misfortune came on him, and I wouldn't drag his name
+down in that place. I am only known as Judith among the customers."
+
+"That is fortunate, and makes your going up to London the thing to
+say. You can be home to-morrow."
+
+"But you will not be long away? You will come?"
+
+"Surely; three days from this at our old place in the orchard. I do
+not care to see your father at first. It will be time enough when we
+can tell him everything. There, now, I must go. You will forget
+nothing?"
+
+Storms held out his hand. Judith took it reluctantly.
+
+"Are you leaving me now?"
+
+"Yes, I am going yonder," he answered, waving his hand toward
+"Norston's Rest."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LVIII.
+
+SIR NOEL'S VISITOR.
+
+
+"It is not the old man, Sir Noel, but young Storms, who says he must
+and will see you!"
+
+"Did the hind send that message to me?"
+
+"No, Sir Noel, he only said it to me, and impudent enough in him to do
+it. His message to you was soft as silk. He had important business
+which you would like to hear of, and could not wait. That was what
+made him bold to ask," answered the servant, who had been greatly
+disturbed by the manner of young Storms, who was no favorite at "The
+Rest."
+
+"You can let him come in," said Sir Noel, with strange hesitancy; for
+over him came one of those chilly presentiments that delicately
+sensitive persons alone can feel, when some evil thing threatens them.
+"Let the young man come in."
+
+The servant went out of the library, and Sir Noel leaned back in his
+chair, subdued by this premonition of evil, but striving to reason
+against it.
+
+"He has come about the lease, no doubt," he argued. "I wish the
+question was settled. After all, its consequence is disproportionate
+to the annoyance. I would rather sign it blindly than have that young
+man ten minutes in the room with me."
+
+It was a strange sensation, but the baronet absolutely felt a thrill
+of dread pass through him as the light footsteps of Richard Storms
+approached the library, and when he came softly through the door,
+closing it after him, a slow pallor crept over his face, and he shrunk
+back with inward repulsion.
+
+Storms, too, was pale, for it required something more than brute
+courage to break the wicked business he was on to a man so gentle and
+so proud as Sir Noel Hurst. With all his audacity he began to cringe
+under the grave, quiet glance of inquiry bent upon him.
+
+"I have come, Sir Noel--that is, I am wanting to see you about a
+little business of my own."
+
+"I understand," answered the baronet. "Your father wishes a new lease
+to be made out, and some additional land for yourself. I think that
+was the proposition."
+
+"Yes, Sir Noel, only the old man was backward in saying all that he
+wanted, and so I came to finish the matter up, knowing more than he
+does, and feeling sure that your honor would want to oblige me."
+
+"I am always ready to oblige any good tenant," answered Sir Noel,
+smiling gravely at what he considered the young man's conceit; "but
+think that wish should apply to your father rather than yourself, as
+he is in reality the tenant; but if you are acting for him, it amounts
+to the same thing."
+
+"No, Sir Noel, it isn't the same thing at all. I came here on my own
+business, with which my father has nothing to do. His lease is safe
+enough, being promised; but I want the uplands, with a patch of good
+shooting-ground, which no man living will have the right to carry a
+gun over without my leave."
+
+"Anything else?" questioned Sir Noel, with quiet irony, smiling in
+spite of himself.
+
+"Yes, Sir Noel, there is something else," rejoined the young man,
+kindling into his natural audacity. "I want a house built on the
+place. No thatched cottage or low-roofed farm-house, but the kind of
+house a gentleman should live in, who shoots over his own land, for
+which he is expected to pay neither rent nor tithes."
+
+"That is, you wish me to give you a handsome property on which you can
+live like a gentleman? Do I understand your very modest request
+aright?"
+
+"Not all of it. I haven't done yet."
+
+"Indeed! Pray, go on."
+
+"There isn't land enough out of lease to keep a gentleman, whose wife
+will have all the taste of a lady, being educated as the chief friend
+and associate of Sir Noel Hurst's ward. So I make it a condition that
+some fair income in money should be secured on the property."
+
+"A condition! You--"
+
+"Yes, Sir Noel, it has come to that. I make conditions, and you grant
+them."
+
+Sir Noel's derisive smile deepened into a gentle laugh.
+
+"Young man, are you mad? Nothing short of that can excuse this
+bombast," he said at last, reaching out his hand to ring the bell.
+
+"Don't ring!" exclaimed Storms, sharply. "You are welcome to the
+laugh, but don't ring. Our business must be done without witnesses,
+for your own sake."
+
+"For my own sake? What insolence is this?"
+
+"Well, if that does not suit, I will say for the sake of your son!"
+
+The blow was struck. Sir Noel's face blanched to the lips; but his
+eyes kindled and his form was drawn up haughtily.
+
+"Well, sir, what have you to say of my son?"
+
+"This much, Sir Noel. He has been poaching on my grounds, which I
+don't think you will like better than I do, letting alone the Lady
+Rose."
+
+Sir Noel rose to his feet.
+
+"Silence, sir! Do not dare take that lady's name into your lips."
+
+Storms stepped back, frightened by the hot anger he had raised.
+
+"I--I did but speak of her, Sir Noel, because the whole country round
+have thought that she was to be the lady of 'Norston's Rest.'"
+
+"Well, sir, who says that she will not?"
+
+"I say it! I, whose sweetheart and almost wedded mate he has made a
+by-word, and I do believe means to make his wife, rather than let the
+bargain settled between William Jessup and my father come to
+anything."
+
+"What--what reason have you for thinking so?" questioned the baronet,
+dismayed by this confirmation of fears that had been a sore trouble to
+him.
+
+"What reason, Sir Noel? Ask him about his private meetings with Ruth
+Jessup in the park--in her father's house--by the lake--"
+
+"I shall not ask him. Such questions would insult an honorable man."
+
+"An honorable man! Then ask him where he was an hour before William
+Jessup was shot. Ask him why the old man went out in search of him,
+and why a discharged gun, bruised about the stock, was found under
+that old cedar-tree. If your son refuses to answer, question the girl
+herself, my betrothed wife. Ask her about his coming to the cottage,
+while the old man was away. These are not pleasant questions, I dare
+say; but they will give you a reason why I am here, why the land I
+want must be had, and why I am ready to pay for it by marrying the
+only girl that stands in the way of your ward, without asking too many
+questions. You would not have the offer from many fellows, I can tell
+you."
+
+Sir Noel had slowly dropped into his chair, as this coarse speech was
+forced upon him. His own fears, hidden under the habitual reserve of a
+proud nature, gave force to every word the young man uttered. He was
+convinced that a revolting scandal, if not grave troubles, might
+spring out of the secret this young man was ready to sell and cover
+for the price he had stated. But great as this fear was, such means of
+concealment seemed impossible to his honorable nature. He could not
+force himself into negotiations with the dastard, who seemed to have
+no sense of honor or shame. The dead silence maintained by the baronet
+made Storms restless. He had retreated a little, when Sir Noel sat
+down; but drew near the table again with cat-like stillness, and
+leaning upon it with both hands, bent forward, and whispered:
+
+"Now I leave it to you, if the price I ask for taking her, and keeping
+a close mouth, isn't dog-cheap?"
+
+"Yes, dog-cheap," exclaimed the baronet, drawing his chair back, while
+a flush of unmitigated disgust swept across the pallor of his face.
+"But I do not deal with dogs!"
+
+Storms started upright, with a snarl that seemed to come from the
+animal to which he felt himself compared, and for a moment his face
+partook of the resemblance.
+
+"Such animals have been dangerous before now!" he said, with a hoarse
+threat in his voice.
+
+Sir Noel turned away from that vicious face, sick with disgust.
+
+"If a harmless bark is not enough to start you into taking care of
+yourself, take the bite. I did not mean to give it yet, but you will
+have it. If you will not pay my price for your son's honor, do it to
+save his life, for it was he who killed William Jessup."
+
+Sir Noel arose from his seat, walked across the room and rang the
+bell. When the servant answered it he pointed toward the door, saying
+very quietly, "Show this person out."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIX.
+
+PLEADING FOR DELAY.
+
+
+Had her sin killed that good old man? Was the penalty of what seemed
+but an evasion, death--death to the being she loved better than any
+other on earth save one, that one suffering also from her fault? Had
+she, in her fond selfishness, turned that pretty home-nest into a
+tomb? Had God so punished her for this one offence, that she must
+never lift her head to the sunlight again?
+
+Sitting there alone in the midst of the shadows that gathered around
+her with funereal solemnity, Ruth asked herself this question,
+pressing her slender hands together, and shivering with nervous cold
+as she looked around on the dark objects in the little room, linked
+with such cruel tenderness to the father she had lost, that they
+seemed to reproach her on every side.
+
+"Ah, me! I cannot stay here all alone--all alone, and he gone! It is
+like sitting in a well. My feet are like ice. My tears are turning to
+hoar-frost. But he is colder than I am--happier, too, for he could
+die. One swift trouble pierced him, and he fell; but they shoot me
+through and through without killing. After all, I am more unhappy than
+the dead. If he knew this, oh, how my poor father would pity me! How
+he would long to take me with him, knowing that I have done wrong, but
+am not wicked! Oh, does he understand this? Will the angels be
+merciful, and let him know?"
+
+The poor child was not weeping, but sat there in the shadows of that
+home from which she had sent away her best friends, terrified by the
+darkness, dumb and trodden down under the force of her own reproaches,
+which beat upon her heart as the after swell of a tempest tramples the
+resistless shore. It seemed as if existence for her must henceforth be
+a continued atonement, that could avail nothing. In all the black
+horizon there was, for this child, but one gleam of light, and that
+broke upon her like a sin.
+
+Her husband! She had seen him for one dizzy moment; his head had
+rested on her bosom. While panting with weakness, and undue exertion,
+he had found time to whisper how dear she was to him. Yes, yes! there
+was one ray of hope for her yet. It had struck her father down like a
+flash of lightning, and the very thought of it blinded her soul. Still
+the light was there, though she was afraid to look upon it.
+
+A noise at the gate, a step on the gravel, a wild bound of her wounded
+heart, and then it fell back aching. Hurst came in slowly; he was
+feeble yet, and excitement had left him pale. Ruth arose, but did not
+go forward to meet him. She dared not, but stood trembling from head
+to foot. He came forward with his arms extended.
+
+"Ruth! My poor girl; my dear, sweet wife!"
+
+She answered him with a great sob, and fell upon his bosom, weeping
+passionately. His voice had lifted her out of the solemnity of her
+despair. She was no longer in a tomb.
+
+"Do not sob so, my poor darling. Am I not here?" said the young man,
+pressing her closer and closer to his bosom.
+
+She clung to him desperately, still convulsed with grief.
+
+"Be tranquil. Do compose yourself, my beloved."
+
+"I am so lonely," she said, "and I feel so terribly wicked. Oh,
+Walton, we killed him. You and I. No, no; not that. I did it. No one
+else could."
+
+"Hush, hush, darling! This is taking upon yourself pain without cause.
+I come to say this, knowing it would give you a little comfort. I
+questioned the doctor. They sent for him again, for I was suffering
+from the shock, and nearly broken down. Ill as I was, this death
+preyed upon me worse than the fever, so I questioned the doctor
+closely. I demanded that he should make sure of the causes that led to
+your father's death. He did make sure. While you were shut up in your
+room, mourning and inconsolable, there was a medical examination. Your
+father might have lived a few hours longer but for the sudden shock of
+my presence here; but he must have died from his wound. No power on
+earth could have saved him. That was the general opinion."
+
+Ruth hushed her sobs, and lifted her face, on which the tears still
+trembled; for the first time since her father's death a gleam of hope
+shone in her eyes.
+
+"Is this so, Walton?"
+
+"Indeed it is. I would have broken loose from them all, and told you
+this before, but my presence seemed to drive you wild."
+
+"It did--it did."
+
+"That terrible night you sent me from the house, with such pitiful
+entreaties to be left alone. You preferred to be with the dead rather
+than me."
+
+"That was when I thought we had killed him. That was when I felt like
+a murderess. But it is over now. I can breathe again. He is gone--my
+poor father is gone, but I did not kill him--I did not kill him! Oh,
+Walton, there is no sin in my kisses now; nothing but tears."
+
+The poor young creature trembled under this shock of new emotions. The
+great horror was gone. She no longer clung to her husband with the
+feeling of a criminal.
+
+"You have suffered, my poor child. We have both suffered, because I
+was selfishly rash; more than that, a coward."
+
+"No, no. Rash, but not a coward," broke in Ruth, impetuously. "You
+shrunk from giving pain, that is all."
+
+"But I shrink no longer. That which we have done must be publicly
+known."
+
+"How? What are you saying?"
+
+"That you are my wife, my honored and beloved wife, and as such Sir
+Noel, nay, the whole world, must know you."
+
+Then Ruth remembered Richard Storms, and his dangerous threats. She
+was enfeebled by long watching, and terrified by the thought of new
+domestic tempests.
+
+"Not yet, oh, not yet. Walton, you terrify me."
+
+"But, my darling!--"
+
+"Not yet, I say. Let us rest a little. Let us stop and draw breath
+before we breast another storm. I have no strength for it."
+
+"But, Ruth, this is no home for you."
+
+"The dear home--the dear old home. I was afraid of it. I shuddered in
+it only a little while ago; but now it is no longer a prison, no
+longer a sepulchre. I cannot bear to leave it."
+
+"Ruth, your home is up yonder. It should have been so from the first,
+only I had not the courage to resist your pleadings for delay; but
+now--"
+
+"But now you will wait because I so wish it. Oh, Walton, I have not
+the courage to ask a place under your father's roof. Give me a little
+time."
+
+"It is natural that you should shrink, being a woman," said Hurst,
+kissing the earnest face lifted to his. "But it shames me to have set
+you the example."
+
+Ruth answered this with pathetic entreaty, which she strove to render
+playful.
+
+"Being two culprits. One brave, the other a poor coward, you will have
+compassion, and let her hide away yet a while."
+
+"No, Ruth! We--I have done wrong, but for the hurt that struck me
+down, I should have told my father long ago. I meant to do it the very
+next day. It was his entreaties that I dreaded, not his wrath. I
+doubted myself, more than his forgiveness. Had he been less generous,
+less noble, I should not have cared to conceal anything from him."
+
+"But having done so, let it rest a while, Walton; I am so weary, so
+afraid."
+
+Ruth wound her arms around the young man's neck, and enforced her
+entreaties with tearful caresses. She was, indeed, completely broken
+down. He felt that it would be cruelty to force her into new
+excitements now, and gave way.
+
+"Be it as you wish," he said, gently. "Only remember you have no
+protector here, and it is not for my honor that the future lady of
+'The Rest' should remain long in any home but that of her husband."
+
+"Yes, I know, but this place has been so dear to me. Remember, will
+you, that the little birds are never taken from the nest all at once.
+They first flutter, then poise themselves on the side, by-and-by hop
+off to a convenient twig, flutter to a branch and back again. I am in
+the nest, and afraid, as yet. Do you understand?"
+
+"Yes, darling, I understand."
+
+"And you will say nothing, as yet. Hush!" whispered Ruth, looking
+wildly over his shoulder. "I hear something."
+
+"It is nothing."
+
+"How foolish I am! Of course it is nothing. We are quite alone; but
+every moment it seems as if I must hear my father's step on the
+threshold, as I heard it that night. It frightened me, then; now I
+could see him without dread, because I think that he knows how it is."
+
+"Before many days we shall be able to see the whole world without
+dread," answered Hurst, very tenderly. "Till then, good-night."
+
+"Good-night, Walton, good-night. You see that I can smile, now. I have
+lost my father, but the bitterness of sorrow is all gone. I had other
+troubles and some fears that seemed important while he was alive; but
+now I can hardly remember them. Great floods swallow up everything in
+their way. I have but just come out of the storm where it seemed as if
+I was wrecked forever. So I have no little troubles, now. Good-by. I
+shall dream after this. Good-by."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LX.
+
+LOVE AND HATE.
+
+
+Ruth did sleep long and profoundly. A stone had been rolled from her
+heart, and the solemn rest of subsiding grief fell upon her. Early in
+the morning she arose and went down-stairs, feeling, for the first
+time for days, a keen want of food. There was no fire in the house:
+gray ashes on the hearth, a few blackened embers, and nothing more.
+The house was very lonely to her that bright morning, for the shutters
+had kept it in gloomy twilight since the funeral, and she had not
+heeded the semi-darkness, having so much of it in her own soul.
+
+"He has forgiven me. He knows," she thought, with a deep, deep sigh,
+"there is no reason why his child should cower in darkness now, and he
+loved the light."
+
+Ruth pushed open the shutters, and almost smiled as a burst of
+sunshine came streaming in through the ivy, embroidering the floor all
+around her with flecks of silver.
+
+"Yes," she thought, "he loved the light, and it is so beautiful now, I
+will have some breakfast. It seems strange to be hungry."
+
+Ruth opened a cupboard, and took from it some fruit, a biscuit, and a
+cup of milk. While she had been lost in the darkness, some kind hand
+had placed these things where she would be sure to find them when a
+craving for food made itself felt through her grief. She became
+conscious of this kindness, and her eyes filled with softer tears than
+she had shed for many a day. After spreading the little table with a
+white cloth, Ruth sat down near the window, and began to drop the
+berries, which some pitying child had brought her, into the milk. Just
+as the old china bowl was full, and she had taken up her spoon, a
+black shadow came against the window, shutting out all the silvery
+rain of light, and looking up, with a start, the girl saw Richard
+Storms leaning into the room.
+
+Ruth dropped her spoon, both hands fell into her lap, and there she
+sat stupefied, gazing at him as a fascinated bird looks into the
+glittering eyes of a snake. There had been no color in her face from
+the first, but a deeper pallor spread over it, and her lips grew
+ashen.
+
+"I would have come before, as was the duty of a man when his
+sweetheart was in trouble," said Storms; "but the house seemed empty.
+This morning I saw a shutter open, and came."
+
+"What did you come for? Why will you torment me so?" said Ruth, hoarse
+with dread.
+
+"Torment! As if the sight of one's own true love ever did that,
+especially when he comes to comfort one. Mother, who is so anxious to
+have you for a daughter, sent me."
+
+"You cannot comfort any one against her will," said Ruth, striving to
+appear calm. "As for me, I only want to be left alone!"
+
+"As if any man, with a heart in his bosom, could do that; especially
+one so fond of you as I am," answered Storms; "besides, I have a fear
+that you may not always want to be alone. Last night, for instance!"
+
+Ruth had for a moment rested her hands on the table, resolved to be
+brave; but they fell downward, and were wrung together in a spasm of
+distress.
+
+The fiend at the casement saw this and smiled.
+
+"Nay, do not let me keep you from breakfast. I love to see you eat.
+Many a day you and I have plucked berries together. It won't be the
+first time I have seen your pretty mouth red with them."
+
+Ruth pushed the bowl of fruited milk away from her.
+
+"I cannot eat," she said, desperately. "Your presence kills hunger and
+everything else. Cannot you understand how hateful it is to me? Leave
+that window! You block out all the pure light of heaven!"
+
+"I will," answered Storms, with a bitter laugh. "You shall have all
+the light you want," and, resting his hand on the window-sill, he
+leaped into the room.
+
+"Audacious!" cried Ruth, starting up, while a flash of anger shot
+across her face as scarlet sunset stains a snow bank.
+
+"While girls are so tantalizingly coy, men will be audacious," said
+Storms, attempting to draw her toward him. "And they like us all the
+better for it. Shilly-shallying won't do when a man is in earnest."
+
+"Leave me! Leave the house!" commanded Ruth, drawing back from his
+approach.
+
+Any one who had seen the girl then would have thought her a fit
+chatelaine for the stately "Old Rest," or any other proud mansion of
+England.
+
+"Not yet. Not till I have told you where you stand, and what danger
+lies in a storm of rage like this. It makes you beautiful enough for a
+queen, but you must not dare to practise your grand airs on me. I
+won't have them! Do you understand that, my lass? I won't have them!
+Come here and kiss me. That is what I mean to have."
+
+"Wretch!"
+
+"Go on, but don't forget that every word has got to be paid for on
+your knees. I can afford to offer kisses now, because you are pretty
+enough to make any man stoop a bit. But wait a while, and you shall
+come a begging for them, and then it'll be as I choose."
+
+Ruth did not speak, but a look of such disgustful scorn came over her
+face that it abashed even his insolence. He made an effort to laugh
+off the confusion into which that look had thrown him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXI.
+
+HUNTED DOWN.
+
+
+"You don't believe me! You think to escape, or put me down with these
+fine-lady airs. Perhaps you mean to complain to the young man up
+yonder, and set him to worrying me again. Try that--only try it! I ask
+nothing better. Let him interfere with me if he dares. Have you
+nothing to say?"
+
+"Nothing!" answered Ruth, with quiet dignity, for contempt had
+conquered all the terror in her.
+
+"Nothing! Then I will make you speak, understand this. You cannot put
+me down. No one can do that. Father and son, I am the master of them
+all!"
+
+"Go!" said Ruth, wearied with his bombastic threats, for such she
+considered them. "Go!"
+
+"Go! Do I frighten you?"
+
+"You weary me--that is all."
+
+"Then you do not believe what I say?"
+
+"No!"
+
+"You think the young man up yonder everything that is good."
+
+"Yes!"
+
+"Well, I think--But no matter. You will soon learn more than you want
+to hear. This is enough. I can tear the Hurst pride up by the roots. I
+can make them hide their faces in the dust, and I will, if you drive
+me to it."
+
+"I?"
+
+"Yes, you! It all depends on you. That young fellow's blood will be on
+your own head if I am brought to strike him down!"
+
+"His blood on my head! His! Are you mad, or only fiendish, Richard
+Storms?"
+
+"This is what I am, Ruth Jessup--the man who can prove who killed your
+father. The man who can hang your sweetheart on the highest gallows
+ever built in England. That is what I am, and what I will do, if you
+ever speak to him again."
+
+"You! You!"
+
+It was all the poor girl could say, this awful threat came on her so
+suddenly.
+
+"You believe me. You would give the world not to believe me, but you
+do. Well, instead of the world you shall give me yourself. I want you
+enough to give up revenge for your sake. Isn't that love? I want you
+because of your obstinacy, which I mean to break down, day by day,
+till you are humble enough."
+
+Ruth smiled scornfully. She had been so often terrified by such
+language that it had lost its force.
+
+"I do not believe you," she said. "Would not believe an angel, if he
+dared to say so much."
+
+"Will you believe your father's own handwriting?"
+
+Storms took from an inner pocket of his vest a folded letter. Ruth
+knew it in an instant. It was the letter she had placed in her
+husband's hand that day when she saw him for one moment asleep in his
+chamber at "The Rest."
+
+"Ha! ha! You turn white without reading it! You guess what it is. The
+handwriting is large enough to read at a safe distance. Make it out
+for yourself."
+
+Ruth fastened her burning eyes on the paper, which he unfolded and
+held between his two hands, so near that she could make out the great
+crude letters; but it was beyond her reach had she attempted to
+possess herself of it, which he seemed to fear.
+
+"Does that mean anything? Is that a confession?"
+
+Ruth did not answer, but dropped into a chair, faint and white, still
+gazing on the paper.
+
+"Do you want more proof? Well, I can give it you, for I saw the thing
+done. Do you want the particulars?"
+
+"No! no! Spare me!" cried the poor girl, lifting both hands.
+
+"Of course, I mean to spare you. One doesn't torment his wife till he
+gets her!"
+
+"Spare him!" pleaded the poor girl. "Never mind me, but spare him. He
+has never harmed you."
+
+"Never harmed me! Who was it that he hurled, like a dog, from that
+very door? Whose sweetheart was it that he stole? Never harmed me!
+Spare him! That is for you to do. No one else on this earth can spare
+him!"
+
+"But how?"
+
+The words trembled, coldly, from her white lips.
+
+"How? By marrying the man you were promised to."
+
+A faint moan was her only answer.
+
+"By carrying out your murdered father's bargain. That is the only way.
+Shudder down, twist and wind as you will, that is the only way."
+
+Ruth shook her head. She could not speak.
+
+"I have got some matter to settle with Sir Noel, for you are only half
+my price. There must be land and gold thrown in on his part, a wedding
+on yours, before I promise to hold my tongue, or give up this paper.
+Love, money, or vengeance. These are my terms. He takes it hard--so do
+you, quaking like a wounded hare in its form. The sight of it does me
+good. Gold, land, the prettiest wife on this side of England, who
+shall give me a taste of vengeance, too, before I have done with her.
+All these things I mean to enjoy to the full."
+
+Still Ruth did not utter a word. The horror in her position struck the
+power of speech from her.
+
+"I see. Nothing but love for this murderer could make your face so
+white. Nothing but hate of me could fill your eyes with such
+frightened loathing. But I mean to change all that, before you have
+been my wife a twelvemonth. Only remember this: you must never see
+Walton Hurst again--never. I shall keep watch. If you look at him, if
+you speak to him before we are wedded, I will give him up to the law
+that hour. If he ever crosses my path after that, I shall know how to
+make my wife suffer."
+
+Still Ruth did not speak.
+
+"You know my terms, now. The moment Sir Noel signs the deeds I'm
+getting ready, he seals my lips. When our marriage certificate is
+signed, I give up this paper. Then there is nothing for us but love or
+hate. I have a taste for both. Come, now, say which it shall be."
+
+While he was speaking, Storms had drawn close to the chair on which
+Ruth sat, still and passive. With the last audacious words on his
+lips, he stooped down, pressed them to hers, and started back, for
+they had met the coldness of snow.
+
+"Fainting again? I will soon cure her of these tricks," he muttered,
+looking down into the still, white face he had desecrated with a kiss.
+"Well, she knows what to depend on now, and can take her own time for
+coming to. I only hope Sir Noel will be as easily settled; but he
+fights hard. I half wish he would say no, that I might pull him down
+to his knees. It would be rare sport. Only I'd rather take revenge on
+the young master. That comes with the wife, and the old baronet's
+money thrown in."
+
+With these thoughts weaving in and out of his brain, Storms left the
+house, for he had no hesitation in leaving that poor girl to recover
+from her dead insensibility alone. It was perhaps the only mercy he
+could have awarded her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXII.
+
+STORMS AND LADY ROSE.
+
+
+Storms returned home, triumphing in his success over that helpless
+girl, and confident that Sir Noel would accept his terms at last,
+haughtily as he had been dismissed from the house. All the next day he
+remained at home, expecting some message from the baronet, but none
+came. On the second day anxiety overcame his patience, and he set out
+for "The Rest," determined to push his object to the utmost, and,
+instead of vague insinuations, lay his whole proof before the baronet.
+
+With all his audacity and low cunning, this man--a dastard at
+heart--was thinking how he might evade this interview, and yet obtain
+its anticipated results, as he came slowly through the wilderness. All
+at once he stopped, and a sudden flash shot across his face.
+
+"The Lady Rose, the woman Sir Noel has chosen for his son's wife, she
+has access to him always. Her entreaties will touch his heart, and
+break down his pride. There she is among the great standard roses.
+Proud and dainty lady as she is, I will set her to work for me. By
+heavens, she comes this way!"
+
+The young man was right. That young lady came out from among her
+sister roses, and turned toward the wilderness, in whose shadows
+Storms was lurking. She wanted some tender young ferns to complete a
+bouquet intended for the little sitting-room that Walton was sure to
+visit during the morning.
+
+As Lady Rose was moving down the shaded path with that slow, graceful
+motion which was but the inheritance of her birth, she seemed to be
+whispering something to the flowers in her hand. Once she paused and
+kissed them, smiling softly, as their perfume floated across her face
+like an answering caress. She was stooping to rob a delicate species
+of fern of its tenderest shoots, when Storms flung his shadow across
+her path.
+
+The lady arose, with a faint start, and gazed at the man quietly as
+one waits for an inferior to speak. With all his audacity, the young
+man hesitated under that look of gentle pride.
+
+"Did you wish to ask something?" she said, at length, remarking his
+hesitation.
+
+The sound of her voice emboldened him, but he spoke respectfully,
+taking off his hat.
+
+"No, Lady Rose, I want nothing. But I can tell you that which it is
+perhaps best that you should know."
+
+"Is it of the wedding? Is it of Ruth you would speak?"
+
+"Of her, and of others, nearer and dearer to you than, she ever was,
+or can be, Lady Rose."
+
+The soft flush of color, that was natural to that lovely face,
+deepened to a rich carnation, and then to scarlet.
+
+"I do not understand!"
+
+"I am wanting to speak of Walton Hurst, the heir of 'Norston's Rest.'"
+
+"And what of him? Nothing serious can have happened since I saw him,"
+said Lady Rose, at first with a swift, anxious glance; then she smiled
+at her own fright; for half an hour before she had seen Hurst walking
+upon the terrace.
+
+"Lady Rose, have you seen Sir Noel this morning?"
+
+"Sir Noel! Why, no. He breakfasted earlier than the rest, or in his
+room."
+
+"That is it. He is in trouble, and would not let you see it in his
+face."
+
+"In trouble! Sir Noel!"
+
+"He has heard bad news."
+
+"Bad news! How? Where did it come from?"
+
+"I took it to him, lady. It has been a burden on my conscience too
+long. The murder of a man is no light thing to bear."
+
+"The murder of a man!" repeated Lady Rose, horrified.
+
+"I speak of William Jessup, whom we buried yesterday, and who was
+murdered in the park, one night, by Walton Hurst." Storms spoke with
+slow impressiveness, while Lady Rose stood before him with blanched
+lips and widely distended eyes.
+
+"Murdered in the park by Walton Hurst! Man, are you mad?"
+
+"Lady, I saw the shot fired. I saw the gun twisted from the murderer's
+hands, and the stock hurled at his head before the old man fell. He
+was found lying across the path lifeless, the brain contused, while
+Jessup lay shot through the lungs a little way off, where he had
+dropped after that one spasm of strength."
+
+"You saw all this with your own eyes?"
+
+"I saw it all, but would never have spoken, had the old man lived. Now
+that he is dead--"
+
+"You would have another life--his life!"
+
+"Do not tremble so, lady! Do not look upon me as if a wild beast were
+creeping toward you. I want no man's life--"
+
+"Ah!"
+
+"Though the young master up yonder has wronged me."
+
+"Wronged you? Walton Hurst wronged you? Impossible!"
+
+"Yes, me! I was engaged to wed old Jessup's daughter. It was a settled
+thing. She loved me!"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"But the young master stepped in!"
+
+"I do not believe it," cried the lady, with a disdainful lift of the
+head, though all the color had faded from her face. "No person on
+earth could make me believe it."
+
+Storms allowed this outburst to pass by him, quietly, while he stood
+before the lady, hat in hand.
+
+Then he spoke:
+
+"Lady, it was this that caused the murder. The young master was in the
+cottage, as he had been many a time before that night, but this time
+Jessup was away in London. I was going there myself; saw him and her
+through the window, and turned back, not caring to go in, while he was
+there, though I thought no great harm of it--"
+
+"There was no harm. I will stake my word, my life, my very soul; there
+was no harm in it," cried Lady Rose. "If an honorable man lives, it is
+Walton Hurst."
+
+"It may be, lady. I do not dispute it. But perhaps old Jessup thought
+otherwise. I do not know. There must have been hard words when he came
+in and found those two in company, for in a few minutes the young
+gentleman came dashing through the porch with a gun in his hand. He
+may have been out shooting and stopped at the cottage on his way home.
+I cannot tell that; but he came out with a gun in his hand; then
+Jessup followed, muttering to himself, and overtook the young master
+just as he got under the shadow of the great cedar of Lebanon. Some
+hot words passed there. I could not hear them distinctly, for they
+were muffled with rage; but I came up just in time to see Walton Hurst
+level his gun and fire. Then Jessup leaped out from the shadows,
+wrenched the gun from the hand that had fired it, and, turning it like
+a club, knocked Hurst down with it. This was done in the moonlight. I
+saw it all. Then Jessup dropped the gun, staggered backward into the
+darkness of the cedar, and fell. They were found so--one lying in the
+blackness cast down by the cedar branches, the other with his face to
+the sky, as he had been thrown across the path where the moonlight
+shone."
+
+"Ah, yes, I remember--I remember," moaned Lady Rose. "He looked so
+white and cold; we thought he was dead."
+
+"She was there. She went to the young man first. I marked that. Her
+father lay in the shadows bleeding to death, but she went to the young
+man first."
+
+"She did. I remember it," flashed through the brain of Lady Rose. But
+she said, bravely, "It was nothing. He lay in the light, and she saw
+him first. It was natural."
+
+"I thought so afterward. She was my sweetheart, lady, and I was glad
+to believe it," answered Storms, who had no wish to excite the lady's
+jealousy beyond a certain point; "but after that, she grew cold to me.
+How could I help thinking it was because his kindness had turned her
+head a little?"
+
+"Kindness! Perhaps so. We have all been kind to Ruth. It is well you
+charge my guardian's son with nothing but kindness. Anything else
+would have been dishonor, you know, and it would offend me if you
+charged that upon him."
+
+"Lady, I charge him with nothing, save the murder of William Jessup."
+
+"But that is impossible. You can make no one believe it. I wonder you
+will insist on the wild story."
+
+It was true Lady Rose really could not take in this idea of murder--it
+was too horrible for reality. She put it aside as an incomprehensible
+dream.
+
+"I saw it," persisted Storms, staggered by her persistent unbelief.
+
+"Oh, I have dreamed such things, and they seemed very real," answered
+the lady, with a slight wave of the hand.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXIII.
+
+THE PRICE OF A LIFE.
+
+
+"Lady, I have other proof. Read that. Perhaps you have seen William
+Jessup's writing. Read that."
+
+Lady Rose took the letter and read it. Now, indeed, her cheek did
+blanch, and her blue eyes widened with horror.
+
+"This is strange," she said, growing whiter and whiter. "Strange, but
+impossible--quite impossible!"
+
+"Coupled with my evidence, it is enough to hang any man in England,"
+said Storms, reaching out his hand for the paper, which she returned
+to him in a dazed sort of dream.
+
+"What do you want, young man? How do you mean to use this letter?"
+
+"I have told Sir Noel what I mean, Lady Rose. I am a poor man, he is a
+rich one. I only asked a little of his wealth in exchange for his
+son's life."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"He would not listen to me. He ordered me from the house. He tried not
+to believe me, so tough is his pride. It might have been disbelief; it
+might have been rage that made him so white; but he looked like a
+marble man, face, neck, and hands. That was after the first hint. He
+gave me no chance to tell the whole, though I had this letter in my
+pocket."
+
+"Then you gave him no proof?" questioned Lady Rose, eagerly.
+
+"Proof? He did not wait for that. No dog was ever ordered from a door
+as I was. But he shall have the letter; he shall hear all that I have
+told you. Then he will come to terms."
+
+"He never will!" murmured Lady Rose. "Not even to save his son's
+life!"
+
+This was said under the lady's breath.
+
+"And if he does not?" she questioned. "If he refuses to pay your
+price?"
+
+"Then Sir Noel cannot expect me to be more merciful to his son than he
+is."
+
+"What is it--tell me exactly--what is it you demand for your silence,
+and that paper?"
+
+Storms took a folded sheet of foolscap from his pocket, and handed it
+to Lady Rose, who made an attempt to read it, but her hand shook so
+violently that the lines mingled together, like seaweed on a wave.
+
+"I cannot read it; tell me."
+
+Storms took the paper which he had prepared for Sir Noel, and read it
+aloud. His hand was firm enough; the agitation that shook the frame of
+that brave, beautiful girl, reassured him. He was certain of her
+influence with Sir Noel.
+
+"Land, free hunting, the house of a gentleman. I wonder he asks so
+little. Does he know what a life like that is worth to us?" she
+thought.
+
+"There is one thing more," said Storms. "Those things I demand for my
+silence. The paper I only give up when Ruth Jessup is my wife."
+
+Lady Rose seemed to waive the subject aside as an after-consideration.
+
+"Land and house," she said, drawing a deep breath, as if some idea had
+become a resolution in her mind. "Tell me, must they be in this
+county?"
+
+"If Sir Noel had land in another part of England I should like it
+better. One might set up for a gentleman with more success among
+strangers," was the cool reply.
+
+"I can give you all these things in a part of England where you have
+never been heard of," said the lady. "Only remember this: there must
+be no more appeals to Sir Noel. He must never see that paper. It must
+never be mentioned again to any human being. That is my condition."
+
+"But, lady, can you make this certain? Sir Noel is your guardian."
+
+"Not as regards this property. Have no fear, I promise it."
+
+"And Ruth--Ruth Jessup? Without her all this goes for nothing."
+
+"Ah, if, as you say, she loves you, that is easy. To a woman who
+loves, all things are possible."
+
+"She did love me once," muttered Storms, beginning to lose heart.
+
+"Then she loves you yet. Ruth is an honest girl, and with such change
+is impossible. To love once is to love forever; knowing her, you ought
+to be sure of this. Besides, it is understood that she is promised to
+you."
+
+"She is promised to me," answered Storms, with some show of doubt,
+"and if it had not been--"
+
+The young man broke off. The blue eyes of Lady Rose were fixed on him
+with such shrinking wistfulness that he changed the form of his
+speech.
+
+"If it had not been for the hurt her father got, we might have been
+wedded before now."
+
+A pang of conscience came over Lady Rose when she thought of pretty
+Ruth Jessup as the wife of this man who was even then trading on the
+life of a fellow-being. But a course of reasoning, perhaps
+unconsciously selfish, blinded her to the misery she might bring on
+that young creature, should it chance that the union was distasteful
+to her. She even made the property, with which the bridegroom would be
+endowed, a reason for wishing the marriage. "Ruth is such a sweet
+little lady," she reasoned, "that the life of a man who worked on his
+own grounds would be coarse and rude to her. In some sort we are
+giving her the place of a gentlewoman. Besides, she must love the man.
+Everything goes to prove that--their walks in the park, his own word.
+Yes, I am doing good to her. It is a benefaction, not a bribe."
+
+All these thoughts passed through the mind of Lady Rose swiftly, and
+with a degree of confusion that baffled her clear judgment. Having
+resolved to redeem the good name of her guardian's son on any terms,
+she sought to reconcile those terms with the fine sense of honor that
+distinguished her above most women.
+
+"Remember," she said, with dignity, "I will give you the property you
+demand, partly for the benefit of Ruth Jessup, and partly because I
+would save my guardian from annoyance. Not that I for one moment
+believe the horrid thing you have told me. I know it to be an
+impossibility."
+
+"The courts will think their own way about that," answered Storms. "An
+honest man's oath, backed with this letter, will be tough things to
+explain there."
+
+"It is because they are difficult to explain that I have listened to
+you for a moment," said Lady Rose. "For twice the reward you demand, I
+would not have a suspicion thrown on my guardian's son. Of any more
+serious evil I have no fear."
+
+"Well, my lady, take it your own way, believe what you like. So long
+as I get the property, and the wife I want, we won't quarrel about
+what they are given for. Only both those things I am bound to have."
+
+"But I cannot force Ruth Jessup to marry any man," said Lady Rose.
+
+"All the same. It is your business now to see that she keeps to her
+old bargain. Or all we have agreed upon goes for nothing."
+
+The man was getting more familiar, as this conversation went on. The
+sensitive pride of the young lady was aroused by his growing demands,
+and she dismissed him, almost haughtily.
+
+"Go now," she said. "I will think of a safe method by which this
+transfer can be made. In a day or two I will see you again. Till then
+be silent, and prepare yourself to deliver up that paper."
+
+"But Ruth Jessup. What of her?"
+
+"I will see Ruth. She has a kind heart. I will see Ruth."
+
+"Then good-day, my lady. You shall see that I know how to hold my
+tongue, and remember kindness too! Good-day, my lady."
+
+Lady Rose watched the young man as he glided off through the
+wilderness, with flashing eyes and rising color. Up to this time she
+had held her feelings under firm control. Now terror, loathing, and
+haughty scorn kindled up the soft beauty of her face into something
+grandly strange.
+
+"Slanderer! Wretch! The lands I do not care for. But that I should be
+compelled to urge pretty Ruth Jessup on a creature like that. Can she
+love him? I will go at once, or loathing of the task will keep me back
+forever."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXIV.
+
+JUDITH'S RETURN.
+
+
+The poor father, whom Judith Hart had so cruelly abandoned, sat alone
+in the old house, patient in his broken-heartedness and more
+poverty-stricken than ever. He had no neighbors near enough to drop in
+upon his solitude, and all wish for reading had left him, with the
+thankless girl he had worshipped.
+
+When he came home and found himself alone in the saddest of all sad
+hours, that in which a day passes into eternity with the sun, his
+desolation was complete. It was something, when the cow he had petted
+into loving tameness would come to the garden wall, and look at him
+with her soft intelligent eyes, as if she knew of his sorrow and
+longed to share it with him. Sometimes he would go out and talk to her
+as if she possessed human sensibility--gather grass and wild flowers,
+and caress the animal's neck as she licked them from his hands.
+
+He was sitting thus lonely at the window between twilight and dark,
+when the figure of a woman came walking down the lane, that made the
+almost dead pulses of his heart stir rapidly. It was so like Judith,
+the free movement, the very poise of her head. The resemblance almost
+made him cry out. But, no, he had been mistaken before. The dusk was
+gathering. It must be some neighboring woman come to chat a moment
+with him. Some of the old friends were kind enough for that now and
+then when Judith was at home.
+
+No, no--it was Judith. He could see her face now. She was smiling, and
+waved one hand; in the other she carried a bundle which did not
+trouble her with its weight, she was so young and strong--Judith, his
+daughter, come back again.
+
+The old man got up from the window and went into the porch, holding
+out his arms.
+
+"Judith! Judith! Oh, my child! my child!" She came up with breathless
+speed, flung her bundle down on the porch, and clasped the old man in
+her arms.
+
+"So you have missed me, father? Take that and that for loving me so."
+
+She kissed his face, and shook both his hands with emphasis; then
+turned about, crossed the yard and patted the cow on its forehead.
+
+"There, now, that I have got all the welcome there is for me, let's go
+in and strike a light. How dark you are!"
+
+Directly the girl had a match flaring and a candle lighted.
+
+"There," she said, "I will bring another bowl and we will have supper;
+there is porridge enough for two."
+
+There was enough for two, though one had the greatest portion, for joy
+took away the old man's appetite. It was enough for him that he could
+sit there with a spoon in his hand, gazing at her. There was not much
+conversation during this meal. The timid old man asked few questions,
+and Judith only said that she had been in a servant's place away up
+the railroad, and had brought home her wages, or most of them.
+
+The girl had every penny that she had earned in her bosom, and gave it
+to the old man that night. She had walked all the way from "Norston's
+Rest," that the little sum might be worth giving. So the old man was
+happy that night, and after Judith had carried her bundle, in which
+was the red garment Storms had given her, up-stairs, he was on his
+knees by the unmade bed, in his little room, with a prayer of humble
+thanksgiving on his lips, and tears streaming down his face like rain.
+
+The next day Judith took up her household work with unusual energy. It
+was her only resource from the excitement of hopes and fears that
+possessed her. The love that had tempted her from home was absorbing
+as ever; but doubts and fears strong as the love tormented her
+continually. Even at the last moment she had hesitated to leave the
+neighborhood of "Norston's Rest." There had been something in Storms'
+manner that made her distrust him.
+
+But she would wait patiently. That was her promise. In three days he
+had pledged himself to see her. If he failed, if he was mocking her,
+why, then--
+
+Judith turned away from the subject here. That which might follow was
+more than she dared think of.
+
+I have said that the girl was not all evil--indeed what human being
+is? She loved this man Storms, with all the passion of an ardent,
+ill-regulated nature. Heedless, selfish, nay, to a certain extent,
+wicked, she might be; but deliberate cruelty of action was repulsive
+to her--that of speech had its origin in the jealousy which tormented
+her more than any one else.
+
+Judith understood well enough that the paper she had given to Storms
+might cause great trouble to Sir Noel Hurst, but her ideas of the
+rights of property were very crude, and she could see no reason why
+that should not be used to win a portion of the baronet's great
+wealth, for the benefit of her lover. "Why should one man be so
+enormously rich without labor," she reasoned, "and another win the
+bare necessities of life by incessant toil?" Judith had gathered these
+ideas from her lover, and dwelt upon them in extenuation of her fault,
+when she joined him in a conspiracy to wring wealth from the proud old
+man at "Norston's Rest."
+
+After her return home, the destitution of her father gave a new
+impulse to this levelling idea. She began to look on him as a victim
+to the injustice of society, and persuaded herself that in the
+advancement of her lover's projects she would lift him out of this
+miserable existence.
+
+It was with difficulty that Judith kept silent, on this subject. She
+longed to cheer and astonish the old man by the brilliancy of her
+projects, but Storms had forbidden this, and she dared not disobey
+him.
+
+On the third day, this hoping and longing became greatly intensified.
+It seemed to her as if each hour had lengthened into a year. She was
+constantly examining the face of that old brass clock, and reviling it
+in her heart because the hands went round so slowly.
+
+When her father came in, his presence was more than she could bear.
+Forced to energetic action by her own unrest, she had prepared his
+supper early and after that sent him down to the village, that he
+might not detect the fever of her impatience.
+
+Twice she went down to the orchard wall and came back, disappointed
+that no one was in sight; though she knew that Storms would not be
+there until his approach could be covered by the evening shadows.
+
+At last she sat down by a window that looked toward the orchard,
+resolved to wait. Thus she watched the sunset, while its crimson
+melted into purple, through which the stars began to shine. A strange,
+keen light was in her face, and her eyes had the glitter of diamonds
+when the first star came out. Then, and not till then, she lighted a
+lamp.
+
+All was still in the house. Far back in the room the lamp was turned
+down, shedding a faint light, such as a clouded moon might throw,
+around the table on which it stood, but leaving those pleasant shadows
+we love in a summer's night everywhere else. Storms would not enter
+the orchard until he had seen that light. It was the old signal that
+they both understood.
+
+Scarcely had this faint illumination brightened the room, when Judith
+saw something flutter above the wall, as if a great bird had settled
+there and was ready to fly again. She leaped to her feet, snatched up
+a shawl that had been laid across a chair in readiness, and hurried
+through the back door, folding the drapery around her as she went.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXV.
+
+ON THE PRECIPICE.
+
+
+Richard Storms was there, leaning against the wall. He reached out his
+hand to help her over--an attention that made the heart leap in her
+bosom.
+
+"Oh, Richard, I am so glad that you have come," she exclaimed,
+clinging fondly to his arm.
+
+"Hush," he said, "wait till we get farther from the house. The old man
+will hear us."
+
+"No, no. He is down in the village. I sent him away."
+
+This was what Storms wished to learn, but in his subtle craft he would
+not ask the question directly.
+
+"He knows nothing--you have not told him that I might be here?" he
+questioned.
+
+"Not a word."
+
+"That is wise. He might be talking to the neighbors and set them
+clamoring at you again. I shouldn't like that, just as everything is
+coming right with us."
+
+"There's no danger of that; he speaks to no one--poor old man. The
+neighbors know nothing about my leaving home; he felt it too much for
+talking."
+
+"Of course, and you got back safely?"
+
+"Oh, yes. How good of you to ask! But you have something to tell me."
+
+"Let us walk farther on," said Storms, passing his arm around the
+girl's waist.
+
+Thus persuasive in his speech and unusually affectionate in manner,
+Storms led the girl down the orchard path. Once under the old apple
+tree where their last stormy interview had taken place, he paused and
+leaned against the trunk, while she stood before him, waiting for the
+information he had brought with some impatience; for, with all his
+strange gentleness, few words had been spoken on the way.
+
+"Well," she said, "have you brought no news--good or bad? Have you
+seen Sir Noel?"
+
+"No."
+
+"No! Why not? Afraid to go on, were you?"
+
+"Afraid? You, Judith, ought to know me better than that. I found an
+easier way of getting what I want. Women, after all, are safest to
+deal with. Instead of a farm I shall have land in my own right."
+
+"You will! You are sure; and I gave it to you!"
+
+Storms made no reply to this exultant outburst, but went on counting
+over the benefits he had secured with tantalizing particularity.
+
+"In one week from now, I shall be a rich landholder, with plenty of
+money in my pocket, and a house that any gentleman in England might be
+proud to take his lady into."
+
+Judith's eyes flashed triumphantly.
+
+"It was I who helped you to all this land, money, the grand house we
+shall live in. Oh, who ever thought that a bit of crumpled paper would
+do so much?"
+
+Storms shrugged his shoulders, and prepared to walk onward.
+
+Judith saw this, and her temper, always ready to take fire, kindled
+up.
+
+"You lift your shoulders--you keep silent when I speak of the paper
+which brought all these grand things, as if you did not mean to give
+me credit for giving it to you."
+
+"What would the paper have been without a shrewd man to use it?
+Besides, you found it in the bushes where any other person might have
+picked it up."
+
+Judith felt a strange choking in her throat.
+
+"What does this mean, Richard Storms?"
+
+"Mean? why, nothing. Only it is getting stormy here. When you lift
+your voice in that way, it might be heard from the house. Walk on; you
+have nothing to flare up about."
+
+There was something in the man's voice that would have warned Judith,
+but for her own rising temper. As it was, she walked toward the
+precipice, sometimes keeping ahead, and looking back at him over her
+shoulder. He certainly looked pale in the moonlight.
+
+"Now, Richard, what is the meaning of this offish talk? Is it that you
+want to get rid of your promise, with all these twistings and
+turnings?"
+
+When Judith put this question, she had halted close by the brink of
+the precipice and turned around, facing the young man, who came up
+more slowly.
+
+Storms attempted to laugh, but he was too hoarse for that.
+
+"I haven't said a word about being off; but, if I had, all this temper
+wouldn't hold me back. What should hinder me doing as I please? The
+paper was as much mine as yours."
+
+"What should hinder you, Dick Storms? Don't ask me that. I do not want
+to talk about the things I saw, that night."
+
+Judith stood close to the precipice as she said this, between the very
+edge and Storms, who strode forward till his white sinister face was
+close to hers.
+
+"You saw what? No more hints, I am tired of them. You saw what?"
+
+"I will not talk about it here. When I do speak, it will be to Sir
+Noel Hurst," answered the girl, bravely.
+
+"Sir Noel Hurst will be very likely to believe you against my oath,
+and the paper signed by Jessup himself."
+
+"The paper that I gave you, fool that I was!"
+
+"Exactly, if you could not trust me."
+
+"I did trust you--I did shield you. I gave you the paper. I kept still
+as the grave about what I saw that night."
+
+"Still as the grave--there is no stillness like that," said the man,
+in a voice so hoarse and strange that Judith instinctively attempted
+to draw sideway from her perilous position.
+
+But Storms changed as she did, still with his face to hers, pressing
+her toward the edge.
+
+"If I kept back another paper, it was because I meant to give it you
+on our wedding day, and prove how much a poor girl could do toward
+saving the man she loved from--"
+
+"From what?" questioned Storms, throwing his arm around the girl and
+drawing her back from the precipice, as if he had for the first time
+seen her danger. "Of what are you speaking, Judith?"
+
+"Of a paper I found in the dress that was taken off William Jessup
+after he died, which makes the one I gave you of no worth at all."
+
+"You have such a paper, and kept it back?" The man absolutely threw a
+tone of tender reproach into a voice that had been cold as ice and
+bitter as gall a minute before. "Let me read it; the moonlight is
+strong enough."
+
+"It is not with me. I have put it by in safe hiding, meaning to burn
+it before your face and pay you for the marriage lines with your
+life."
+
+Storms drew the girl farther away from the precipice, for he feared to
+trust the instinct of destruction that had brought him there, and
+would not all at once be subdued. He felt that his own life was, for
+the time, bound up in hers, and absolutely shuddered as he thought of
+the fate from which a word had saved him and her.
+
+For a time they walked back to the orchard in silent disturbance: she
+unconscious of the awful danger she had run; he pondering new schemes
+in his mind.
+
+"Why will you always doubt me?" he said, at last.
+
+"Because you force me to doubt," she answered, almost patiently, for
+the ebb-tide of her anger had set in.
+
+"No; it is your own bad temper, which always drives me into teasing
+you. I have the license in my pocket, and came to settle everything."
+
+"The license!"
+
+At this word Judith turned her face to the moonlight, and Storms saw
+that his falsehood had done its work.
+
+"While you have been doubting me," he said, with a look and tone of
+deep injury, "I have been upon my knees almost, persuading the old
+people to give up this Jessup girl, and take you in her place."
+
+"And they have? Oh, Richard!"
+
+"I came to set the day when you would come to the farm and stop a bit
+with the old mother."
+
+"Ah!" said Judith, with tears in her eyes, "I cannot remember when I
+had a mother."
+
+Storms lifted his hand impatiently. Even he shrunk from using the name
+of his kind old mother as a snare for the girl.
+
+"You will say nothing of this to your father, or of my coming here at
+all. When we are wedded and ready to start for the new home, it will
+be a grand surprise for him."
+
+"Shall we--oh, Richard, shall we take him with us?" cried Judith.
+
+"That may be as you wish. I will not object."
+
+"Oh, Richard, I would give up that horrible paper now if I had it with
+me!"
+
+"No, let it rest until I can exchange it for the marriage lines; then
+it will be as much for your interest as mine that it should be made
+ashes of. But be sure and have it about you then."
+
+"I will, I will. Only it is like putting a snake in my bosom when I
+hide it there."
+
+"And that pretty dress. Leave nothing behind you. On the second day
+from this I will be at the nearest station. Meet me there, but mind
+that no one sees us speaking to each other."
+
+"I will be careful."
+
+"Good-night, then."
+
+The girl looked at him wistfully, as if she expected something more;
+but Storms only reached out his hand. He was not quite a Judas, and
+did not kiss her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXVI.
+
+SIR NOEL AND RUTH.
+
+
+Sir Noel Hurst had been left standing in his library, white and
+stately, like a man turned into marble. That one hideous word had
+struck him with the force of a blow. In the suppressed rage of the
+moment he had sent Storms from his presence, scarcely comprehending
+the charge he had made or the price for secrecy that he demanded.
+Still, audacious and unbelievable as the man's charge was, it aroused
+reflections in the father's mind that had hardly taken form before.
+For months and months he had been vaguely uneasy about his son. With
+the keen perceptions of a man of the world, he had, without spying
+upon Walton, observed him anxiously. He knew that more of his time was
+spent about the gardener's cottage than seemed consistent with any
+interest he could have felt in William Jessup. He saw that the young
+daughter, whom he could with difficulty look upon as more than a
+child, was, in fact, a wonderfully beautiful girl. Beyond all this he
+perceived that, day by day, the young man drifted from his home, that
+the society of Lady Rose was almost abandoned, and that this fair
+young patrician drooped under the change.
+
+On the night when the young man was found lying so deathly and still
+across the forest-path, these observations had deepened into grave
+anxiety. He became certain that some more dangerous feeling than he
+had been willing to believe must have drawn his son into the peril of
+his life. The anguish in Ruth's face; the piteous humility with which
+she shrunk from observation, alarmed him; for the girl had been, from
+her very infancy, a pet at the great house, and underneath all other
+anxiety was a feeling of paternal interest in her.
+
+That some dispute had arisen, of which Ruth was the object, he had
+never doubted, and that both men had been injured in a rash contest
+seemed natural. All this was hard enough for a proud, sensitive man to
+bear in patience; but these apprehensions had been held in abeyance
+during his son's illness by deeper anxiety for his life, and now from
+sorrow over the death of a faithful old servant, to whom every member
+of the family was attached.
+
+All these perplexities and suspicions had been fearfully aroused by
+the charge and proposal of young Storms. Not that the baronet gave
+anything but a scornful dismissal of either from his mind, but his old
+anxieties were kindled anew, and he resolved to break at once the tie
+that had drawn his son so often to the cottage, or, at least, make
+himself master of its nature. Had young Hurst been out of danger from
+excitement, perhaps Sir Noel would have broken the subject to him; but
+he had carefully avoided it, fearing some evil effect during his
+illness, and now was cautious to give no sign of the uneasiness that
+possessed him. So, with the sting of a rude insult urging him on, he
+went to Jessup's cottage.
+
+Ruth was lying in the little parlor, weak and helpless as a crushed
+flower, all her rich color gone, all the velvety softness of her eyes
+clouded. A man's step on the porch made her start, and listen. She had
+cause to dread such steps, and they terrified her. A knock, measured
+and gentle--what if it was her husband's? What if Storms was on the
+watch? He must not come in. That was to endanger more than his life.
+It was her hard task to say this. Ruth started up, crept to the door,
+and opened it, with trembling hands.
+
+"Sir Noel!"
+
+The name scarcely formed itself on her lips, when she shrunk back from
+the baronet's stern countenance, wondering what new sorrow was coming
+upon her.
+
+Sir Noel had always liked the girl, and her sad bereavement awoke his
+compassion. Almost before she had spoken he felt the cruelty of his
+errand. It was impossible to look into those eyes, and think ill of a
+creature so helpless and so beautiful. But the very loveliness that
+disarmed him had brought death to her own father, and threatened
+disgrace to his son. The plans he had formed for that son--the future
+advancement of his house--all were in peril, unless she could be
+removed from the young man's path. This must be done. Still he would
+deal gently with her.
+
+Sir Noel had sought the cottage with a quickly-formed resolution to
+urge on the marriage of its inmate with the man who had exhibited some
+right to claim her; but as he stood on the threshold, with that young
+girl trembling before him, this thought took a form so hideous, that
+he almost hated himself for having formed it.
+
+Ruth went into the little parlor, trembling with apprehension. Sir
+Noel followed her. Here his heart nearly failed him. He felt the
+cruelty of harassing her with new troubles, when sorrow lay so heavily
+upon her; but anxiety urged him on against his better nature.
+
+"Poor child!" he said, gently. "I see that you have suffered; so
+young, too. It is hard!"
+
+Ruth lifted her eyes to his face, as if wondering that any one--he,
+most of all--could pity her. Then she said, with touching sadness, "It
+is hard, and I am so tired."
+
+"I too have had trouble," said the baronet. "For many days we feared
+that Walton--"
+
+"I know! I know! He came near dying, like my father--the best father
+that ever lived."
+
+Ruth spoke low and nervously. The presence of Walton's father filled
+her with apprehension. Yet she longed to fall at his feet, and implore
+him to forgive her.
+
+"Ruth," said Sir Noel, seating the poor girl on the sofa, and taking
+both her hands in his, "Ruth, try and think that it is your father who
+asks you: and answer me from your soul. Does my son love you?"
+
+A flash of hot scarlet swept that desolate face. The eyelids drooped
+over those startled eyes. Ruth tried to draw her hands away.
+
+"Answer me, child."
+
+He spoke very gently, so gently that she could not help answering.
+
+"Yes," she said, in a soft whisper. "He loves me."
+
+"And you?"
+
+Ruth lifted her pleading eyes to his--those great, innocent eyes, and
+answered, humbly, "How could I help it?"
+
+"How long is this since, Ruth?"
+
+"I don't know. It seems to me always; but he knows best."
+
+"But, my poor child, how do you expect this to end?"
+
+"It is ended! oh, it is ended! I wish you would tell him so, Sir Noel.
+I must never, never see him again."
+
+Ruth threw both arms over the end of the sofa, and, burying her face
+upon them, broke into a wild passion of sobs.
+
+Sir Noel was touched by this helpless acquiescence. He bent over her
+sadly enough.
+
+"No, Ruth, you never must see him again."
+
+"I know it--I know it!"
+
+"There is another who loves you," he said, shrinking from the idea of
+giving that girl to the crafty ruffian who had dared to threaten him.
+It seemed like an insult to his son thus to dispose of the creature
+that son had loved, and evidently respected; but he was not prepared
+for the wild outburst of anguish that followed his words. Ruth sprang
+to her feet, her eyes widening, her wet face contracted.
+
+"You will not--you must not ask that of me. I will die first."
+
+"Be it so. I will not urge you," answered the baronet, soothingly.
+"Only promise me never to see Walton again!"
+
+"I must! I do! Oh, believe me! I never, never must see him again!"
+
+"You must go away!"
+
+"Oh, if I could--if I only could!"
+
+"It must be, my poor child. Some place of refuge shall be found."
+
+Ruth lifted her face with sudden interest.
+
+"I will see that you are cared for. Only this my son must never know."
+
+"He must never know," repeated the poor girl. "Only, if I should be
+dying, would there be danger then? Only when I am dying?"
+
+"We will not think of that, Ruth."
+
+"No. I dare not. It tempts one so; but the good God will not be so
+cruel as to let me live."
+
+Sir Noel was surprised at this broken-hearted submission. He had come
+to the cottage prepared for resistance, perhaps rebellion, but not for
+this. No doubt of the girl's innocence, or of his son's honor,
+disturbed him now. But this only made his task the more difficult. She
+must be removed from the neighborhood. The honor of his house--the
+future of his son demanded it.
+
+"I will go now, Ruth," he said, with great kindness; "but, remember,
+you will never want a comfort or a friend while I live. In a few days
+I will settle on some safe and pleasant home for you."
+
+Ruth did not seem to hear him, though she was looking steadily in his
+face; but when he dropped her hand, she said, piteously, "You will
+tell him--you will let him know that it was for his sake?"
+
+"After you are gone, he shall know everything, except where to find
+you."
+
+Ruth sunk back on her seat, bowed her face drearily, and thus Sir Noel
+left her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXVII.
+
+SHOWING THE WAY.
+
+
+Where could Ruth go? She had never been from home more than once or
+twice in her life. Her world was there lying about "The Rest"--her
+home in that cottage, where she was born, and her mother had died. She
+must leave it; of course, she must leave it, but how? To what place
+would Sir Noel Hurst send her? With that awful secret lying between
+her and Richard Storms, would she dare to go? He would avenge her
+absence on Hurst. She, no doubt, stood between him and the thing she
+shuddered to think of. What could she do?
+
+All night long the poor child lay asking herself these questions. She
+had locked herself in with the darkness as the dusk came on, fearing
+that her husband might come--dreading to hear another step that filled
+her, soul and body, with loathing. She did hear a light tread on the
+turf, a gentle knock on the door, and fell to weeping on her pillow,
+with sobs that filled the whole desolate house. After these exhausting
+tears she slept a little, and when the daylight stole through the
+crevices of the shutters she turned from it, and lay with her face to
+the wall, wondering if she would live the day out.
+
+There was no fire in the cottage that day--no food cooked or eaten.
+Ruth crept out from her room and lay down on the little sofa, faint
+and miserably helpless. The apathy of great suffering was upon her.
+She was hemmed in by darkness, and saw no way out.
+
+Some time in the morning she heard a voice at the casement. A white
+hand was thrust through the ivy, and beat lightly on the glass.
+
+"Let me in, Ruth! Oh, let me in. I must speak to you!"
+
+It was Lady Rose, who had known little rest since her interview with
+Storms in the Wilderness. A ring of excitement was in her voice. The
+face which looked in through the ivy was wildly white.
+
+Ruth arose and unlocked the door. She would rather have been alone in
+her misery; but what did it matter? If she had any hope, it was that
+Lady Rose would not speak of him. She could bear anything but that.
+
+"Poor Ruth! How ill--how miserably ill you look," said the lady,
+taking the hot hands that seemed to avoid her with a sudden clasp.
+"Death, even a father's death, cannot have done all this."
+
+Ruth shook her head sorrowfully.
+
+"My father--I have almost forgotten him."
+
+Lady Rose scarcely heeded this mournful confession; but drew the girl
+down upon the sofa, unconsciously grasping her hands till they would
+have made her cry out with pain at another time.
+
+"Ruth, I have seen Storms, a man you know of. I met him in the
+wilderness. He told me--"
+
+"He told you _that_!" exclaimed Ruth, aroused to new pangs of
+distress. "And you believed him?"
+
+"Oh, Ruth, he has your father's letter. We could laugh his proof to
+scorn, but for that."
+
+"Still, I do not believe it," said Ruth, kindling into vitality again.
+"It was my father's letter. I carried it, not knowing what was
+written. My poor father believed it, no doubt; but I do not."
+
+"Nor do I," said Lady Rose. "Nothing can make me believe it!"
+
+Ruth threw herself at the young lady's feet, and clung to her in
+passionate gratitude.
+
+"Get up, Ruth!" said Lady Rose. "Be strong, be magnanimous, for you
+alone can save Walton Hurst's life."
+
+The girl got up obediently, but seemed turning to marble as she did
+so; for she guessed at the impossibility that would be demanded of
+her.
+
+"I? How?" she questioned, in a hoarse whisper. "How?"
+
+"You and I. It rests with us."
+
+Ruth breathed heavily.
+
+"You and I!"
+
+"This wretch--forgive me--this man, Storms, wants two things--land and
+gold. These I can give him, and will."
+
+"Yes, yes."
+
+"But he wants something else which I cannot give, and on that all the
+rest depends."
+
+Ruth did not speak. She grew cold again.
+
+"He wants you, Ruth."
+
+No word, not even a movement of the lip answered this.
+
+"He says," continued Lady Rose, "that you love him; that you are, of
+your own free will, pledged to him."
+
+"It is false!"
+
+The words startled Lady Rose.
+
+"Oh, Ruth, do not say that. We have no other hope."
+
+"But he, Walton Hurst I mean, is innocent. You know it--I know it."
+
+"But this man holds the proof that would cost his life, false or true.
+It is in his hands, and we cannot wrest it from them."
+
+"Is this true, Lady Rose?"
+
+"Fatally, fearfully true; God help us! Oh, Ruth, why do you hesitate
+to save him?"
+
+"I do not hesitate!"
+
+"You will rescue him from this terrible accusation? You will complete
+the engagement, and get that awful letter? To think that he is in this
+great danger, and does not know it! To think that his salvation lies
+in our hands. What I can do is nothing. It will be you that saves
+him."
+
+"I cannot! I cannot!"
+
+"Ruth Jessup! You refuse? You have the power to save him, and will
+not?"
+
+"God help me! God help me, I cannot do it."
+
+Lady Rose turned away from the girl haughtily, angrily.
+
+"And I could think that she loved Walton Hurst," she said, in
+bitterness of heart.
+
+"Oh, do not, do not condemn me. If you only knew--if you only knew,"
+cried Ruth, wringing her hands in wild desperation.
+
+"I know that you could save him from death, and his whole family from
+dishonor, and will not. That is enough. I will importune you no
+longer. Had it been me, I, the daughter of an earl, would have wedded
+that man, yes--though he were twice the fiend he is--rather than let
+this thunderbolt fall on a noble house, on as brave and true a man as
+ever lived."
+
+"He is brave, he is true, and you are his peer. You are worthy of him,
+heart and soul, and I am not. But you might pity me a little, because
+I cannot do what would save him."
+
+"Because you are incapable of a great sacrifice. Well, I do pity you.
+As for me, I would die rather than he should even know of the peril
+that threatens him."
+
+"Die? Die?"
+
+A sudden illumination swept the white face of Ruth Jessup. Her eyes
+took fire, her breath rose in quick gasps, out of which came those two
+words. Then another question--would a death save him?
+
+"If my death could do it, I need not have come to you," answered Lady
+Rose, proudly.
+
+"True, true, I can see that. Do not think so hardly of me. I am not
+born to bravery, as you are. My father was only a poor gardener. When
+great sacrifices are asked of me, I may want a little time. You should
+not be angry with me for that."
+
+Lady Rose turned eagerly.
+
+"You relent. You have a heart, then?"
+
+"Yes, yes, I will save him. In another week his path and yours shall
+be clear and bright.
+
+"Mine? Mine? No, no! Can you think I do not understand all that you
+meditate, all that you may suffer in a marriage with this man? I spoke
+of dying. The self-abnegation you promise is a thousand times worse
+than death. Ruth Jessup, I envy you the power of so grand a sacrifice:
+I could make it as you will; and you could give up everything, taking
+no share in the future as I will. When this cloud is swept from
+'Norston's Rest,' I leave it forever."
+
+Excitement had kept Lady Rose proud and strong till now; but in place
+of this a great swell of pity, and self-pity, filled her heart.
+Reaching out her arms, she drew Ruth into them, and wept passionately
+on her shoulder, murmuring thanks, endearments, and tender compassion
+in wild and broken snatches.
+
+As for Ruth, she had become the strongest of the two, and, in her
+gentle way, strove to comfort the lady, who stood upright after a
+while, and, pushing the young orphan from her, searched her face, as
+if to make sure of her firmness.
+
+"How calm, how still you look, girl! Tell me again that you will not
+fail."
+
+"I will not fail."
+
+"But you will let me do something. We shall both go away from here,
+you to a new home, far from this; a pretty home, Ruth, and I to an
+estate very near, where we will be such friends as the world never
+saw. This hour has made us so. That which you are doing for him I will
+help you to endure."
+
+Ruth smiled very sadly. Lady Rose kissed her, preparing to go.
+
+"How cold your lips are! how I have made you suffer!" she said,
+drawing back, chilled.
+
+"It will not last," answered Ruth, quietly. "Take no further trouble
+about me. I have not felt so much at rest since my father died."
+
+"If I only knew how to thank you."
+
+"I should thank you for pointing out the way; but for that I might
+never have known," answered Ruth, gently.
+
+"You will have saved him, and he will never know. That seems hard;
+still, there may come a time--But, you are growing pale again; I only
+pain you. Good-by, for a while."
+
+"Good-by," said Ruth, faintly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXVIII.
+
+FORSAKING HER HOME.
+
+
+Ruth stood perfectly motionless, until the light tread of Lady Rose
+died out on the turf. Then she sat down and fell into thought, so deep
+and dreary, that it seemed like waking from a trance, when she looked
+up, and saw that the west was all aflame with scarlet, and drenched in
+great seas of gold. Then she arose, and went into her little chamber.
+Up to this time her eyes had been dry; but some tender recollection
+seemed to strike her, as she looked around, and instantly they were
+flooded with tears. She busied herself about the old-fashioned bureau
+a while, apparently selecting such little objects as her husband had,
+from time to time, given her. Then she took the prayer-book from her
+toilet, in order to secure the marriage certificate, which had been
+placed between its leaves.
+
+"They must not find this here," she thought. "Nothing shall be left to
+show that he ever loved me."
+
+Then she took the ring from her bosom, and, folding it up in a bit of
+silk paper with pathetic care, laid that, too, within the leaves of
+the book, and made a package of the whole.
+
+It was dark now, and, for a little time, she lay down upon her white
+bed, and there, with folded hands, strove to reason with herself.
+"When the man who hates him so hears all, and knows that the poor girl
+he is hunting to death is far, far beyond the reach of love or hate,
+he will content himself with the lady's land and gold," she thought.
+"She, too, will go away, and find happiness; for he will seek her out,
+not too soon, I know that, but after a while, and never knowing how it
+came to be so, will give his heart to her.
+
+"Then I shall be forgotten--forgotten! Ah, me, why was I born to bring
+such trouble on every one that loved me? He will mourn. Oh, yes, he
+will mourn! He never can help that, for he loved me--he loved me!"
+
+She thought this all over and over, with mournful persistency. The
+spirit of self-sacrifice was strong upon her; but not the less did all
+the sweet tenderness of her woman's nature dwell upon the objects of
+love she was giving up.
+
+The night darkened. She heard the old clock down-stairs tolling out
+the hours that were numbered to her now. Then she got up, struck a
+light, and opened her desk. There was something to be written--a
+painful thing to be done.
+
+The paper was before her, the pen in her hand. What could she say? how
+begin a letter which was to rend the heart that loved her? How could
+she make that young husband comprehend the anguish with which she cast
+herself on the earth to save him, when he was conscious of no danger!
+She began to write swiftly, paused, and fell into thought; began
+again, and went on, sobbing piteously, and forming her words almost at
+random.
+
+When her letter was finished, she folded it, cast her arms across the
+desk, and broke the solemn silence of the room with low, faint moans,
+that are the most painful expression of hopeless anguish.
+
+Again the clock struck, and every brazen time-call fell on her heart
+like a bullet. She got up, as if in obedience to some cruel command.
+Instead of her scarlet jacket, and the hat, whose cluster of red roses
+gleamed in the candle-light, she put on the soft gray dress worn on
+that fatal wedding morning. Then she placed the letter she had written
+on the prayer-book. After this, Ruth went slowly down-stairs, carrying
+the candle and package in one hand.
+
+A gust of wind from the door, as she opened it, put out the light.
+Thus she left nothing but darkness in her old home.
+
+Ruth looked around warily, for even in that fearful hour she
+remembered the threat of her tormentor, and dreaded some harm to the
+beloved being she was determined to save.
+
+The moon was buried in clouds, storm-clouds, that made the whole
+landscape funereal, like the heart of that poor girl. She went through
+shrubberies and flower-beds, straight toward the window of Walton
+Hurst's room. Pulling aside the ivy, she mounted the half-concealed
+step, not cautiously, as she had done on another occasion, but with a
+concentration of feeling which left fear behind.
+
+It was a warm, close night, and a leaf of the casement was partly
+open. She thrust it back, with a swiftness that gave no sound, and
+stepped into the room. Hurst was lying on the bed asleep. Illness had
+left its traces upon his features, and his hands lay clasped, loosely,
+on the counterpane. Something more sombre than the shadows thrown by
+the dim lamp lay upon his fine face. Anxiety had done its work, as
+well as sickness.
+
+Ruth stood by the bed, motionless, almost calm. The supreme misery of
+her life had come. She had no sobs to keep back, no tears to
+hide--despair had locked up all the tenderness of grief with an iron
+hand. She was about to part with that sleeping man forever and ever.
+He was her bridegroom: she must give him up, that his honor, nay, his
+very life might be saved.
+
+The prayer-book that she carried in her hand contained, she believed,
+all the proofs of a marriage that had been more unfortunate than
+death. No one must ever see them. They were a fatal secret, which she
+gave up to her husband's keeping alone. She laid the book upon the
+counterpane, close to his folded hands, not daring to touch them, lest
+the misery within her might break out in cries of anguish. Then she
+stood mute and still, gazing down upon him, minute after minute, while
+the light shone dimly on the dumb agony of her face. At last, she bent
+down, touched his forehead with her lips, and fled.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXIX.
+
+THE SOUL'S DANGER.
+
+
+How, and by what way, that poor young creature came out on the verge
+of the Black Lake she could not have told. When she came down those
+balcony steps she had left the world behind her. Filled with an insane
+idea of self-martyrdom, she went onward and onward as rudderless boats
+reel through a storm.
+
+Now she stood among the rushes--clouds over her head, a great sea of
+inky waters weltering away from her feet--gloom and blackness
+everywhere. The old lake house flung down uncouth shadows on one hand,
+a gnarled oak pushed its gaunt limbs far over the waters on the other.
+The rushes around her swayed and moaned in the wind like living things
+in pain.
+
+Was it this weird picture that brought Ruth to a sense of her own
+condition? Did it seem to her as if she had already accomplished her
+purpose, and was entering upon its punishment? Who can answer for the
+impulses of a soul in its passions of distress? No two events are
+alike in all the tumultuous actions of life. When the destinies of a
+human being can be turned by a chance thought, a careless word, even a
+sunbeam, more or less, what intellect can fathom the exact thing that
+sways it for good or evil? One might have thought that the gloom of
+this picture would intensify the dark resolve that had urged that
+young creature on to death. Instead of that, it came upon her with a
+great shock, and she stood there among the rushes appalled.
+
+Was it by that dark way she could hope to find her father?
+
+As she asked this question an awful fear came upon her. She walked
+slowly backward, with her eyes fixed upon the water, breathing heavier
+and heavier, as the rushes swayed to their place between her and them.
+Thus she drew away from the awful danger to the threshold of the lake
+house. There she sat down.
+
+What was this thing she had promised to do? A great crime which would
+shut her out from her father's presence forever and ever, which would
+make it impossible to meet her young husband through all eternity. She
+was willing to die for him--the agony was nothing. Had she not
+suffered more than that over and over again? But to give him up here
+and beyond those black waters was more than she could force upon her
+soul.
+
+Beyond all this, the delicate organism of her being shrunk from that
+which might come to her body after death. She saw, as if it were a
+real presence, herself sinking, sinking down into the blackness of
+those waters, her limbs, so full of life now, limp and dead, tangled
+in the coarse grasses, or seized upon by some undercurrent, and
+dragged down into the depths of the earth. Worse still, coarse men
+might, with mistaken kindness, search the waters, and lift her from
+them in the very presence of her husband; who would see the face he
+had kissed swollen, the sodden lengths of her hair trailing the--the--
+
+She could not bear these thoughts; they made existence itself unreal.
+She pushed the hair back from her face, as if expecting to find it
+dripping; she lifted both hands to her lips and laughed aloud when she
+found them dry. She folded both arms over her bosom and clasped
+herself in, sobbing out her relief that he had been saved from the
+anguish of seeing her dead. But not the less was she doomed. It was
+not the sacrifice that she shrunk from, but the crime. This moral
+force kept the girl back from her fate, but in no way lessened the
+spirit of self-abnegation that had brought her to the lake. Only how
+would she carry that into effect without crime? How could she take
+herself out of the way and be dead to every one that she loved? The
+fearful necessities of her case gave vigor to each thought, as it
+passed through her mind, and these thoughts were taking vague form,
+when the sounds of footsteps and of voices, speaking low and at
+intervals, startled her. Looking through the darkness she saw two
+forms coming down the brief descent along which a path led to the lake
+house. She had risen, and was looking for some place of refuge when a
+voice reached her, and darting around the old building she stole up
+the bank and away through the wildness.
+
+It was the voice of Richard Storms.
+
+Ruth went back to the cottage and searched the darkened rooms for the
+desk in which her father had kept his money. She placed what was found
+there in her pocket, with the key which had let her through the
+park-gate on that other eventful day of her life, and went out into
+the night again. She reached the gate, turned the lock, and taking the
+highway, walked rapidly toward the nearest railroad station.
+
+A train was in sight. She had scarcely time to secure a ticket when it
+swept up to the platform. The guard half pushed her into a
+second-class car, and she was borne away toward London.
+
+There in the solitude which seems most forlorn, she fell into a
+trance, in which all the faculties of her mind were self-centred--all
+the information she had ever received from her father or any other
+source presented itself for her use.
+
+She would not save even her own husband by a crime. That idea she put
+utterly aside, knowing that to live was a choice of deeper suffering
+and more cruel martyrdom. But she must be dead to him--dead to the
+whole world. Her name, humble as it was, should not betray her. She
+would go, no matter where, but so far as the money in her pocket would
+allow. Her father had sometimes talked of places beyond the great
+ocean, where people of small means, or made desperate from misfortune,
+sought a new life. All that she had read of such places came vividly
+to her remembrance--how people went on shipboard, and were months and
+months out to sea, where they were happy enough to die sometimes.
+Perhaps God would be so merciful to her.
+
+With these thoughts taking form in her mind Ruth found herself in
+London.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXX.
+
+ON THE TRAIN.
+
+
+At the station, which Richard Storms had designated, Judith Hart had
+been waiting while three or four trains went by. She did not travel
+much by railroads, and this was almost like a new experience to her.
+She had brought no luggage, for the pretty dress of black and scarlet,
+that Storms had given her, was the only portion of her wardrobe worth
+taking away, and she had put that on with a womanly desire to please
+his parents with her appearance, which certainly was that of a
+beautiful, if not highly-bred, girl.
+
+It was getting dark when a train came up, and Storms, recognizing her
+on the platform, made the signal agreed upon, though his face clouded
+over, and he stifled an oath between his teeth when he saw how
+conspicuous the dress made her.
+
+"I might have known it," he thought; "from the highest to the lowest,
+all female creatures are alike. Most of them would go in full dress to
+the gallows, if the hangman were fool enough to permit it."
+
+Judith had not seen the first signal, but stood on the verge of the
+platform, looking with evident disappointment up and down the train,
+when her eyes fell on the department he was in. The next instant she
+sprang up the steps and took a seat by his side, but the smile left
+her face when he looked up vaguely and turned to the opposite window,
+as if her presence was an intrusion.
+
+The train gave a lurch and moved on. Then she ventured to speak.
+
+"You look sullen. You do not seem glad. What is the matter, Richard?"
+
+Storms turned in his seat and scrutinized her dress from head to foot.
+
+"You don't like it?" she said, in some confusion; "but I had nothing
+else fit to wear at your mother's house, and I thought you would like
+me to look like a lady, as you are to make me one so soon. Forgive me,
+if I have taken too much on myself."
+
+"Forgive you for making yourself so handsome? I should be a brute of a
+fellow not to do that."
+
+The girl's heart leaped. She had expected harsh language, reproach,
+perhaps bitterness, if the dress did not please him; but there was
+nothing of this; on the contrary, there was hilarity in his voice, a
+sort of careless abandonment, as if some pleasant surprise had been
+given him, which he was prepared to accept with acquiescence at least.
+
+This ready, almost hilarious, approval of her dress overwhelmed Judith
+with delight.
+
+"Oh, how tired I was of waiting! How happy I am!" she sighed, leaning
+toward him.
+
+Storms drew her close to him with a fierce grip of the arm, in a
+passion of love or hate which took away her breath; then his arm
+released its hold, and he made a gesture as if to push her from him.
+
+"What is the matter?" she questioned, turning her eyes wildly upon
+him.
+
+"Nothing," he said; "your curls brushed my face; that is all."
+
+"It seemed almost as if you hated me," said the girl, rubbing her arm
+with one hand.
+
+"Hated you! What should make me do that?"
+
+"Perhaps because I come between you and that Jessup girl, with all her
+money."
+
+"What is her money to me? It was the old people that wanted it, not I.
+Now, all she has got would be nothing compared to what I can give a
+wife."
+
+"To think that all this has been brought about by a bit of paper! That
+chance lifted me out of myself. Loving you as I did, it was like
+opening the gates of heaven to me."
+
+"Yes, the gate of heaven," repeated the young man, in a voice full of
+weird irony. "It would be a pity to draw you back."
+
+"It would kill me," answered Judith. "It seems as if a world of
+happiness had been crowded into these days, when I am made sure of
+being your wife! Can it be? Am I certain of that? Ah, what changes a
+day may bring!"
+
+"Yes, many things may be done in less than a day," said Storms, in a
+light if not mocking tone. "It only takes a minute or two sometimes
+for a man to yoke himself up for life. If one could only wrench
+himself free as easily, now!"
+
+"You speak as if I were not quite forgiven for keeping back that
+paper," she said with a look of swift apprehension.
+
+"Do I? Well, you will soon learn how I can forgive.
+
+"What do you mean, Richard?"
+
+"Nothing. But this is the station nearest to 'Norston's Rest.' We get
+out here."
+
+The whistle of a train coming from the east was just then sounding
+sharp and clear in the distance.
+
+Storms left his train just as it began to move, and Judith followed
+him. When she reached the platform he turned his face upon her in the
+starlight, and she saw that he was smiling.
+
+"Come," he said, drawing her toward the track.
+
+"Step back! Step back! Here comes another train," cried Judith. "How
+awfully human that red light blazes in front of the engine! It
+frightens me! Oh, be careful."
+
+Storms had flung one arm around the girl's waist and forced her to the
+very edge of the platform, as if about to help her leap across the
+rails, but she pressed back in terror and clung to him till the train
+passed by.
+
+"Why, what makes you tremble so? What did you shriek for?"
+
+"I was so near the edge the hot steam swept over me."
+
+"Over me, too. The engine lurched up so suddenly that I nearly lost my
+balance; but that was nothing to get frightened about. Come, now, the
+coast is clear, and the old people will be expecting us. You are not
+so tired that we cannot walk from the station?"
+
+Judith laughed.
+
+"Tired? Oh, no. I could walk twenty miles if they only ended at your
+home. You don't know how I have longed for a sight of it!"
+
+"Come, then. We will go across the park. It is the nearest way, and
+you know it best."
+
+Judith did not answer; her usual high spirits were dampened. She only
+folded the scarlet sacque over her bosom, and prepared to follow
+Storms, breathing heavily, she could not have told why.
+
+No other passengers left the train at that station, and, without
+entering the building, these two passed into the village in mutual
+stillness. Once beyond that, Storms kept the highway until they
+reached the side-gate in the park wall.
+
+"This is our nearest way to the old house. It saves a good bit of
+road," he said, opening the gate with his key.
+
+Judith followed him. She knew the path well and took it willingly.
+This really was the nearest way to the farm-house.
+
+They were in the wilderness now, threading it by a path that made a
+sudden descent to the Black Lake.
+
+"Richard! Richard!" Judith cried out, in nervous haste. "How fast you
+walk! It quite takes away my breath."
+
+Storms slackened the rapid pace with which he was walking and threw
+his arms around her; then kissed her fiercely upon the lips, so
+fiercely that she was not aware that his hand pressed the paper hidden
+in her bosom, and she struggled away from him, for the kiss brought
+shuddering with it, as if an asp had stung her.
+
+"Why, girl, I thought you loved me."
+
+"I do--I do! Oh, how dearly!"
+
+"But you do not know yet how I can love."
+
+They were descending the path that led to the lake. Now the young man
+girded her waist with one arm and hurried her forward almost beyond
+her power of walking. When they reached the lake she was panting for
+breath.
+
+"One minute--let me rest a minute," she pleaded, holding back from the
+bank, which they were walking dangerously near.
+
+"A minute? Oh, yes. I will give you that," he said. "Indeed, I feel
+tired myself. Come in here. It will seem like old times."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXI.
+
+THE SPIDER'S WEB.
+
+
+Storms turned at once and led the way to the dilapidated old
+summer-house where so many of his interviews with the girl had taken
+place.
+
+There was something secretly sinister in the man's voice that might
+have warned Judith of danger; but for his previous expressions of
+tenderness, she would have been on her guard. As it was, she hurried
+past him, and went into the little building first; then flinging off
+her scarlet jacket, she tossed her pretty hat, with its cluster of
+red poppies, upon the bench, and pushed the black masses of hair away
+from her temples, with the dash of a prize-fighter going into action.
+
+"It is so warm," she said, "and we have walked so fast. Ah! how
+natural the old place looks!"
+
+Storms paused at the door, and looked back along the path he had trod,
+and around the lake cautiously.
+
+"You needn't trouble yourself. If a gamekeeper should see us they'll
+take me for that Jessup girl," she said, laughing.
+
+"While we are here," he said, with soft insinuation, "let me read that
+letter you spoke of--Jessup's last. There is moonlight enough, and I
+haven't seen it yet."
+
+There was something in the man's face, or in his voice, that warned
+Judith, who pressed both hands to her bosom in quick alarm.
+
+"No, no, not here--the light is not strong enough. I have promised to
+give it up on our wedding-day, and I will."
+
+"And not before?"
+
+"No, I will not give it up before."
+
+Judith Hart drew toward the dilapidated window that opened upon that
+balcony which overhung the deepest portion of the lake. She made a
+singularly wild figure, standing there, with her bloodless face, and
+all the thick masses of her hair thrust back, while the rays of a
+fitful moon streamed over her.
+
+Storms came close to her, speaking low, and with unusual gentleness.
+
+"Judith, I thought that you loved me."
+
+"So I do; better than myself; better than my own soul!"
+
+"Yet you keep a paper from me that might destroy me."
+
+"It never shall. You could not keep it safer than I will."
+
+"What if I never marry you?"
+
+"But you will."
+
+"Never while you hold that paper."
+
+"Ah, I see it was for that you brought me here. I have been a fool!"
+
+"Exactly."
+
+The man was looking out on the lake as he spoke, and did not see the
+flash of those black eyes, or the rage that curved those lips till the
+teeth gleamed menacingly through.
+
+"A miserable fool," he went on, "or you would have known that a man
+who had the chance of a girl like Ruth Jessup would never think of
+you."
+
+"Ah, it is Ruth Jessup, then?"
+
+"Yes, it is Ruth Jessup--the only girl I ever cared a straw for. The
+letter you gave me gets her with the rest. That is the grandest part
+of my bargain. She cannot help herself."
+
+"But I can help her and punish you. The letter you want, but shall
+never have--William Jessup's last letter, written when his head was
+clear and his memory good, taking back the lines written in his
+fever--a letter charging _you_ with the murder I saw done with my own
+eyes--this letter, and all that I know, shall be in Sir Noel's hands
+before he goes to bed to-night."
+
+Judith had drawn the pocket-book that held this letter from her bosom,
+unseen by her assailant, and made a movement as if to depart; but
+Storms leaped upon her like a wild beast, and when she struggled
+fiercely with him, hurled her against the window.
+
+A loud crash, a storm of shattered glass and splintered wood, and,
+through the great ragged opening, Judith Hart reeled into the balcony,
+hurling the pocket-book over her murderer's shoulder. He did not see
+the act, of which the girl herself was almost unconscious. His arm was
+coiled around her, and though holding backward with all her might, she
+was forced to the edge of the rickety structure, that began to reel
+under them. Here the man held her a moment, looking down into her
+white face with his keen, cruel eyes.
+
+"This is how I forgive--this is how I love you--this is the way you
+will keep me from a fortune!"
+
+The girl was mute with terror. She could not even cry out, but clung
+to him in a dumb agony of entreaty.
+
+"You meant to force me into marrying you, poor fool! Give me that
+letter!"
+
+The wretched girl had flung the letter from her and she could not tell
+where. It might be in the water or among the rushes.
+
+"I have not got it--I have not; but I loved you! Oh, I did love you!"
+
+"Lying with your last breath. The accursed thing is in your bosom."
+
+"No! no! no!"
+
+She held on to him now, though he had lifted her from her feet, and
+covering his cruel face with desperate kisses, clung to him with a
+grasp that even his wiry strength could not tear away.
+
+"You did love me. I know that. It was her money. You did love
+_me_--you _do_. It is only to frighten me. Let me down, let me down.
+Do you know I am on the very edge? It is dangerous fun--cruel fun!"
+
+"Fun!" sneered the fiend, wrenching her arms away and drawing back to
+give more deadly force to the action. "Fun, is it?"
+
+He was pushing backward, his white face was close to hers, his hoarse
+curse hissed in her ear. With a terrible effort to save herself, she
+wound her arms around his neck, dragging him down to the rickety
+railing, over which he was straining all his powers to hurl her.
+
+"Oh, Dick! Dick! Don't kill me! Do--"
+
+Another crash. The railing gave way. He strove madly to free his neck
+from her clinging arms, but they clasped him like iron. The struggle
+was terrible. Under it the whole balcony began to quiver and break.
+Their two faces were close together, their eyes burning with hate and
+fear, met. One desperate effort the man put forth to free himself; but
+the grip on his neck grew closer, and choked him. With the might of
+despair he dragged her half-way up from the reeling timbers; but her
+weight baffled his strength, and brought him down with an awful thud.
+Down, down, they plunged, through the rotten timbers, into the black
+depths of the lake.
+
+After this the stillness was appalling. Over the place where those two
+had gone down, linked together in that death-clasp, bits of broken
+wood floated, drearily, like reptiles driven from their holes; and
+from their midst a human head appeared, lifted itself from the water,
+and went down again. Twice after this the head rose, each time nearer
+the shore. Then two gleaming hands seized upon the strong rushes,
+forsook them for a rooted vine, and Judith Hart lifted herself to the
+bank; where she fell helpless, with the ends of her long hair
+streaming into the water, and mingling with the grasses that swayed to
+and fro on their dark disturbance.
+
+In this position the girl lay exhausted for some minutes, then she
+struggled to her feet, swept the dank hair back from her face, and,
+stooping forward, searched the waters with her clouded eyes.
+
+She saw nothing. If any object, living or dead, was on that inky
+surface the darkness concealed it. Then her hands were flung out and
+her voice struggled into cries:
+
+"Richard! Richard! Here! here! The water is shallow here. Oh, my God!
+Light a little light that I may see where he is!"
+
+There was no answer--only a faint lapse of water against the bank.
+
+"Richard! Richard!"
+
+Again and again that sharp, wild voice rang out on the night, only
+answered by more awful stillness and the silence of hopeless
+listening.
+
+Thus, for one dark hour, that poor creature, shivering, pallid, and
+wet, paced up and down the shore, dragging her sodden garments through
+the dense herbage, and calling out whenever she paused in her moaning,
+"Richard! Richard! Richard!"
+
+At length this cry sounded for the last time, long and low, like the
+plaint of a wounded night-bird; but there was no reply, and if
+anything, living or dead, arose to the surface of those inky waters
+after that, God alone saw it.
+
+Judith Hart had wandered there, it might have been a minute, or an
+eternity, for anything she knew of time; but the black silence drove
+her away at last. She went into the denser portion of the wilderness,
+and came out by the farm-house in which the parents of Richard Storms
+lay sleeping peacefully, for their son had left them for the fair
+held in a neighboring town that morning, and they did not expect him
+home before another day.
+
+Judith turned from her route, for she took no path, and went up to the
+door of this house, beating against it with her hands. After a while a
+bolt was drawn, and an old woman, wearing a shawl over her night
+dress, looked out, but half closed the door again when she saw a
+strange female, with a face like death, and long wet hair streaming
+down her back, staring at her. Twice this figure attempted to speak,
+but that which she tried to say choked her until the words broke out
+in spasms:
+
+"You are his mother. He tried to save me. I was in the Black Lake,
+sinking; he plunged after me, but went down, down. I tried to drag him
+up. Three times, three times I went headforemost into the darkness.
+All night long I have been calling for him, but he would not answer.
+Do not think he was angry with me. No one must think that. It was to
+save me. Only to save me, he was trying."
+
+The old woman held a candle in her hand. It began to shake as she
+said:
+
+"Who are you speaking of? Who are you?"
+
+"Of him--he loved me--I was to be his wife, and he was bringing me
+here, only we stopped at the lake and I fell in. After that, I could
+not find him; dive down as I would, he went deeper still. I called out
+till my breath failed; but he would not answer. My husband--you know."
+
+The old woman shaded her light with one hand while she scrutinized
+that wild face.
+
+"A face I have never seen," she thought; "some poor crazed thing."
+
+"Come in from the cold. You are shivering," she said, in great
+kindliness, "your teeth knock together."
+
+"No, I'm not cold, but he is. Go seek for him. He will not answer me;
+but you are his mother. He is not angry with you. I will get out of
+the way. He will not show himself while I am there; but when you call,
+it will be different. What are you standing there for? Call up your
+men; get lanterns. He is hiding away from me; but you are his mother."
+
+Before old Mrs. Storms could answer these words, crowded each upon the
+other, the girl stepped from the door-stone and was gone.
+
+"Poor thing, poor thing, her face is strange, and she talks of a
+husband as if I were his mother. I was frightened in spite of that, as
+if it were Richard she spoke of. So like my own dear lad, to risk his
+life for another. It was that which set me trembling, nothing else;
+for I knew well enough that he was safe at the fair."
+
+"What is it?" questioned the farmer, when his wife came back to her
+bed-room.
+
+"Only a woman that has lost her mind, I think," answered the wife,
+blowing out her candle. "I would fain have had her come in, but she is
+gone."
+
+"Then what makes ye tremble and shake so, woman? Have ye found another
+corpse-light in the candle?" The old man said this with a low,
+chuckling laugh; for he delighted in ridiculing his wife's
+superstitions.
+
+"No; I had not thought of that," answered the dame. But all that
+night, while Judith Hart was travelling the road to her father's
+house, unconscious of fatigue and fleeing, as it were, from herself,
+this loving mother lay restlessly awake by the side of her husband;
+for he, in his good-natured jeering, had frightened sleep from her.
+
+Twenty miles away, another weary soul had been kept awake with loving
+anxiety. The old man whom Judith had deserted a second time lay in
+that humble home bemoaning his loneliness, wondering what had drawn
+the only creature left to him on earth from the shelter of his roof,
+where she had for some days seemed so cheerfully content. Would she
+ever return?
+
+The old man was asking himself this question almost in hopelessness,
+when the first gray of morning broke into his room. Leaving his bed,
+weary as when he sought it, the old man dressed himself and went to
+the front door. There, sitting in the porch, with her limbs huddled
+together, and her hair all afloat, was the young creature whose
+absence he had bewailed--his daughter Judith.
+
+When she saw her father, the poor girl stood up unsteadily. She was
+shivering all over; but on her cheeks was a flame of coming fever, and
+her hot hands shook as she held them toward him.
+
+"Father, I have come back to you. Take me home. I have come back to
+you. Take me home."
+
+The old man reached forth his arms, drew her within them, and with her
+head falling helplessly on his shoulder, led her into the house.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXII.
+
+THE MARRIAGE CERTIFICATE.
+
+
+Two persons, both anxious and unhappy, sat in the breakfast-room at
+"Norston's Rest," Sir Noel and Lady Rose. Sir Noel was thinking with
+secret uneasiness of the charge, that had been made with such coarse
+audacity, against his son, by Richard Storms; he was thinking also,
+with some self-upbraiding, of the young orphan who had submitted
+herself so gently to the demands of his pride. With all his
+aristocratic habits of thought and feeling, Sir Noel was essentially a
+good man--rich in kindliness, and incapable of doing a cruel thing,
+knowing it as such, and spite of his worldly reasoning, his heart was
+not without self-reproach when he thought of Jessup's daughter.
+
+Lady Rose had even deeper causes of anxiety. She had performed her
+promise to Richard Storms; the papers, which would convey to him a
+really fine estate, were prepared, and she was ready to deliver them
+on Ruth's wedding day, when all this shameful attempt to cast disgrace
+on an honorable name would have been defeated by the sacrifice of two
+girls, herself giving the smaller part.
+
+This thought troubled the young lady. Like Sir Noel, she felt
+heart-sore when thinking of the fate to which she had urged this poor
+girl, who had been her playmate and friend.
+
+With all these anxieties, the guardian and ward met with their usual
+quiet courteousness, for habits of decorous self-control checked all
+expression of deep feeling.
+
+Still, Sir Noel might have noticed that the cheeks of his ward were
+pale, and her blue eyes darkened with shadows, but for his own
+preoccupation, for she had neither his self-control nor habit of
+suppression. Besides, he had observed these signs of unrest frequently
+of late, and it was in some degree because of this that he had dealt
+so positively with Ruth Jessup.
+
+A third party looking in upon that pleasant scene would never have
+dreamed that disturbing thoughts could enter there. It was a beautiful
+room, and a beautiful morning. The fragrance of many flowers came
+floating through the windows, where it met flowers again of still more
+exquisite odors. The breakfast service of gold and silver, the Sevres
+china and crystal were delicate, almost as the flowers.
+
+They had not expected young Hurst to breakfast with them. Since his
+illness he had taken this meal in his own room; but now he came in
+hurriedly, so hurriedly that Sir Noel absolutely started with dismay
+when he saw the white agony of his face. The young man went up to the
+table and laid a book upon it.
+
+"Sir Noel--father," he said, in a voice that thrilled both listeners
+with compassion,--"in that book is my marriage certificate. This
+letter is from my wife. I have deceived you, and she has dealt out my
+punishment, for she has chosen to abandon me, and die rather than
+brave your displeasure."
+
+Sir Noel was always pale, but his delicate features turned to marble
+now. Still the shock he endured gave no other expression of its
+intensity. He reached forth his hand, and pushed the book aside.
+
+"It is Jessup's daughter you are speaking of," he said, pausing to ask
+no questions.
+
+"Yes, father, yes; Jessup's daughter. She was my wife, and for that
+reason has destroyed herself."
+
+"Let me read the letter. It may not be so bad as you apprehend."
+
+Walton gave him the letter; then falling on a seat by the table, flung
+out his arms and buried his face upon them.
+
+"It may be as you fear," said Sir Noel, after reading poor Ruth's
+letter, "but I think there is room for a doubt."
+
+"A doubt! Oh, father, can you see that?"
+
+Lady Rose had arisen, and stood near the window, white as the lace
+that draped it, cold as the marble console on which she leaned. She
+came forward now, speaking almost in a whisper:
+
+"If this thing is true--if Ruth Jessup has killed herself--it is I who
+am guilty of her death. It was I, miserable wretch that I am, who
+urged her to it, not knowingly, but out of my ignorant zeal. Poor
+girl! Oh, Walton! Walton! I did not know that she was your wife--I
+urged her to marry--I am the person most to blame in this."
+
+"No! no!" said Walton, starting up. "By one wild, rash step, I brought
+this great trouble on us all. Father, father, can you ever forgive me?
+Is not this awful punishment enough?"
+
+Sir Noel did not answer at once, but his face grew rigid. Lady Rose
+saw this, and went up to him, her eyes full of eloquent pleading, her
+very attitude one of entreaty.
+
+No word was spoken; but the old baronet understood all the generous
+heroism of that look. Bending his head, as if to the behest of a
+queen, he reached out his hand to Walton, gravely, sadly, as a man
+forgives with his heart, while the pride of his nature is still
+resistant.
+
+"We must search the cottage. Ruth was young, timid. She never can have
+carried out this design. There must be no noise, no outcry among the
+servants. Living or dead, my son's wife must not be a subject for
+public clamor. If she is to be found, it is for us to discover her."
+
+Walton, in his weakness and distress, supported himself by the table,
+which shook under his hand.
+
+"Oh, how weak I am! How weak I have been!" he said, wiping the
+moisture from his pale forehead.
+
+Sir Noel poured out a glass of wine and gave it to him.
+
+"Take this--sit down--sit down and rest."
+
+"No, no; I must seek for her!"
+
+"You cannot. Trust to your father, Walton. If your wife is living, I
+will find her."
+
+Walton seized his father's hand, and wrung it with all his weakened
+force.
+
+"Oh, father! I have not deserved this! I cannot--I can hardly stand;
+but we will go--we will go."
+
+He did, indeed, reel across the room, searching blindly for his hat.
+
+Sir Noel led him into the little sitting-room, and placed him with
+gentle force on a couch.
+
+"Rest there, my son, till I come back. Lady Rose will stay with you."
+
+"Oh, father! father!"
+
+The young man turned his face upon the cushions, and shook the couch
+with his sobs. The baronet's kindness seemed to have broken up his
+heart. The best comforter for such grief was a woman. Sir Noel looked
+around for his ward, but she had gone.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXIII.
+
+SEARCHING THE LAKE HOUSE.
+
+
+Lady Rose had, indeed, left the house. She knew best where to search
+for the missing girl. In the hall she met Mrs. Hipple. Snatching a
+garden-hat, she held it toward the old governess, who stood gazing
+upon her in astonishment.
+
+"Take this, and come with me. I want help--come!"
+
+Never had the lady spoken so imperiously; never had Mrs. Hipple seen
+her so terribly agitated. Before she had tied on the hat, Lady Rose
+was half-way down the terrace-steps.
+
+"To the gardener's cottage," she directed, turning her head
+impatiently. "We must go there first."
+
+Startled, and utterly bewildered, the old woman followed. She was a
+good walker, but failed to overtake Lady Rose until she stood before
+the cottage. The door was closed, the shutters tightly fastened, as
+she had never seen them before.
+
+"Ruth may be lying dead there." Hesitating under the horror of this
+thought, she held on to the gate unable to go in or move away.
+
+"Are you afraid?" she said to Mrs. Hipple.
+
+"Afraid? No. Why should I be?"
+
+"Ah, you have not been told, and I have no time; come."
+
+Lady Rose swung the gate inward, went into the porch, and tried the
+door. It was not fastened. She pushed it open and entered the little
+parlor. The light was dim, but her quick glance searched the room--the
+table where Ruth worked, the chintz couch, the one great easy-chair.
+
+"Not here! not here!" she cried. "Wait till I come."
+
+She ran up-stairs into each chamber, calling out:
+
+"Ruth! Ruth! Do not hide, Ruth. It is I, Lady Rose."
+
+No answer; nothing but twilight darkness and the shadowy furniture.
+Down the stairs she went, through the kitchen, and out into the open
+air.
+
+Mrs. Hipple followed her.
+
+"Lady Rose! Lady Rose! what is this? you terrify me!" pleaded the old
+woman at last.
+
+"How can I help it, being fearfully terrified myself? Oh, Hipple,
+Walton was privately married to Ruth Jessup, and she is missing!"
+
+"Married--missing!"
+
+"She may be dead; and oh, Hipple, my dear old friend, I drove her to
+it."
+
+"You! no, no, my child; but come--where shall we search?"
+
+Lady Rose led the way down to the Black Lake. The door of the old
+summer house was open. Through it she saw gleams of scarlet, outside
+the broken timbers.
+
+"She is here--we are in time!" she cried out, rushing forward, but
+recoiled from the threshold with a faint moan. It was only a scarlet
+garment, with the morning sunshine pouring over it.
+
+"It is hers. She has gone. Oh, God, forgive me, she has gone!" cried
+the poor lady, dragging her reluctant limbs through the opening. "Her
+own jacket and the pretty hat. God help me! I have killed her. I, who
+meant only to redeem him. Oh, Hipple, have I the curse of a great
+crime--the mark of Cain on me?"
+
+"Hush," said the old lady, with gentle authority, placing the unhappy
+girl on the bench. "I have more calmness; let me search. This
+sacque--"
+
+"It is hers! it is hers! I have seen her wear it, oh, so often," cried
+Lady Rose, covering her eyes, which the flame tints of the garment
+seemed to burn.
+
+"No," answered the governess, examining the garment in her hand with
+keen criticism; "this is not Ruth Jessup's sacque. The one she wore
+had a delicate vine of embroidery about the edge; this is braided."
+
+Lady Rose dropped her hands.
+
+"It is true; it is true; and the hat--hers was turned up at the side
+with red roses; these are poppies. You are right, Hipple. She may be
+living yet."
+
+While they were examining the garment Sir Noel came into the lake
+house. He looked around, taking in the scene at a glance--the scarlet
+jacket, the broken window, and the jagged timbers left of the balcony,
+and upon the floor an old pocket-book or portemonnaie. Lady Rose
+watched him as he opened it. Surely there was something there which
+might tell them of the girl's fate. Yes, a letter, folded twice, and
+thus made small enough to thrust into a pocket of the book; a letter,
+directed to Walton Hurst, which had been opened.
+
+Lady Rose knew the writing, came close to Sir Noel, and read the
+letter over his shoulder.
+
+"Oh, thank God! Thank God, I have not murdered them both," she cried,
+snatching the letter between her shaking hands, and kissing it wildly.
+"If her life has been sacrificed, his honor is saved."
+
+Sir Noel took the letter from her and read it a second time. It ran
+thus:
+
+     MY YOUNG MASTER:--I was wrong to write you that letter; but the
+     fever was on me, and it came out of my love and out of my
+     dreams--wild dreams such as could not have reached me in my
+     senses.
+
+     I am getting well now, and have thought over all that happened
+     that night till everything is clear in my mind. This is the way
+     I remember it; but there must no harm to any one come from what
+     I write. I would never say a word only to take back the foolish
+     letter I sent to you. Richard Storms met me as I was crossing
+     the park on my way back from London that night. He was in a
+     rage, and said something about you and my daughter Ruth that
+     angered me in turn. In my wrath I knocked him down, and went
+     home, sorry that I had done it, for his father was an old
+     friend, and we had thoughts of being closer related through the
+     young people.
+
+     When I got home Ruth seemed shy, and complained that the lad
+     had forced his company on her, for which you had chastised him,
+     as he richly deserved. I got angry again, and went out in
+     haste, meaning to call him to a sharper account for the slander
+     he had hinted against her and you. It may be that in my heart I
+     was blaming you. It seems as if I never could have believed ill
+     of you as I feel now; but the young man's words rang in my ears
+     when I went out, and I might have been rough even with you if
+     we had met first.
+
+     Well, I hurried on by the great cedars, thinking to meet
+     Richard on his way home. When I got into the deep shadows a man
+     came suddenly under the branches between me and the light. I
+     saw the face; it was only a second that the moonlight struck
+     it, but I saw the face. It was Richard Storms. I was turning to
+     meet him when he lifted a gun and fired. I felt a flash of
+     fire go through me. I leaped toward him, but he pushed me
+     aside, and reeling till my face turned the other way, I fell.
+     Then it was that I saw you in the edges of the moonlight. The
+     other face came and went like lightning. It was yours that
+     rested in my mind and went with me through the fever, but it
+     was Storms that shot the gun; it was his face I saw, his voice
+     I heard mingling curses with blows as I lay bleeding on the
+     ground. The man who shot me and beat you down with the butt of
+     his gun was Richard Storms, the son of my old friend. I am sure
+     of this now, having questioned Ruth about the gun. He brought
+     it to the house that night, and she saw it behind the door
+     after you thrust him from the house and left it yourself, but
+     when I went out no such thing was there. I had no weapon in my
+     hand that night.
+
+     Storms must have come back and got the gun when Ruth saw him
+     peering through the window. Do you know, I think it was not me
+     he meant to shoot. More likely he was waiting for you, and only
+     found out his mistake when I was down and you came in sight;
+     for I can remember a great oath breaking over me, after I
+     fell--and you were near us then.
+
+     I am not strong, and this writing tires me; but some how I feel
+     that it must be done, or mischief may come from what I wrote in
+     my fever; which I pray you to forgive.
+
+     I know you will burn this letter with the other when you have
+     got it by heart. It must not be brought against the young man,
+     for he was used roughly that night; and both blows and kicks
+     are apt to turn some brave men into wild beasts.
+
+     He was to have wedded my daughter Ruth, but she could not bear
+     to hear of it; and when my fever left all these things clear, I
+     broke the old pledge. He loved my Ruth, and this was a blow to
+     him. I wish no greater harm than this to the young man; and beg
+     you to keep all that is against him a secret, for his father's
+     sake.
+
+                                   Always your faithful servant,
+                                                      WILLIAM JESSUP
+
+A great change came over Sir Noel's countenance as he read this
+letter. He did not thoroughly understand it; but Lady Rose was better
+informed. How Storms came in possession of the first letter, she could
+not tell; but that he had used it for his own interest, and the ruin
+of an innocent man, she saw clear enough. In a few brief sentences she
+explained this to Sir Noel. Then he understood the persecution that
+had driven Ruth to the fatal step she had taken.
+
+There was nothing more to learn at the lake house, and with heavy
+hearts those three persons left it, turning their steps toward "The
+Rest." Mrs. Hipple, made thoughtful by experience, folded the garments
+they had found there, and carried them away under her shawl.
+
+As Sir Noel was about to mount the terrace steps, a lad in uniform
+came up the chestnut avenue, and gave him a telegram, which he tore
+open with more agitation than such papers had ever produced in him
+before.
+
+     A young relative of ours, the daughter of William Jessup, a
+     gardener at 'Norston's Rest,' is with us, in a state of health
+     that requires immediate attention. I found her, by accident, in
+     the office of the Australian line of packets. She had taken a
+     passage, but not in her own name, and I could only persuade her
+     to go home with me by a promise that I must break, or permit
+     her to depart as she evidently wishes, unknown to her friends.
+     I send this in urgent haste, and confiding in your discretion.
+
+The signature was that of a young artist, whose name was attached to a
+picture of some promise that Sir Noel had bought because he remembered
+that the person was a connection of Jessup's.
+
+With his pencil Sir Noel wrote a brief reply, which the boy carried
+away with him.
+
+Two events of unusual importance happened at "Norston's Rest," the
+next day. It was given out in the village that Sir Noel and his family
+had gone up to the London house that the young man might be nearer his
+physicians, and that Lady Rose had taken Ruth Jessup with her,
+thinking that change of scene might soften the melancholy into which
+she had fallen. This sudden movement hardly found general discussion,
+when something more terrible filled the public mind. The body of
+Richard Storms had been found floating in the Black Lake, three days
+after Sir Noel's departure. It had evidently risen from the depths,
+and become entangled in the broken timbers still swaying from the
+balcony. When he failed to return from the fair, as he had promised,
+his mother, remembering the weird visitor who had called her up in the
+dead of the night, betook herself to the lake, and was at last joined
+by the old farmer, whose distress was even greater than her own, for
+he had a deeper knowledge of the young man's character, and this gave
+ground for fears of which she, kind woman, was made ignorant by her
+deep motherly love.
+
+Thus fear-haunted, these two old people wandered about the lake day
+after day, until, one morning, they found a group of men upon the
+bank, talking solemnly together, and looking down upon the broken
+timbers still weltering in the water, as if some painful interest had
+all at once been attached to them.
+
+When these people saw the old man and woman coming toward them, they
+shrunk back and left a passage by which they could pass into the old
+building, but no one spoke a word.
+
+No noise, no outcry came from those two people when they saw their
+only son lying upon the bench where the neighbors had laid him down;
+but when one of them went in, troubled by the stillness, he found the
+old man standing against the wall, mournful and dumb, looking upon the
+dead face, as if the whole world had for him been cast down there. He
+did not even seek to comfort the poor mother, who was kneeling by the
+bench, with her arms clasped about all that was left of her son,
+unconscious that his dripping garments were chilling her bosom through
+to the heart, or that the face to which she laid hers with such
+pathetic mournfulness had been frozen to marble in the depths of the
+lake.
+
+As the kind neighbor drew near and would gladly have offered
+consolation, the poor old woman looked up with a piteous smile on her
+lips and said:
+
+"My brave, brave lad lost his life in saving a poor creature, who
+would have been drowned but for him."
+
+Then she dropped her face again, and was still as the dead she
+embraced; but as she spoke of her son's bravery, those scant, hot
+tears that agony forces on old age came to her eyes and burned there.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXIV.
+
+COMING HOME.
+
+
+"Uncle, I have brought you a daughter."
+
+Sir Noel looked up from the volume he was reading, and saw Lady Rose
+standing before him, flushed, agitated, but with a glow of exaltation
+in her eyes that he had never seen there before. With one arm she
+encircled the waist of Walton's bride, the other hand she extended in
+the grace of unconscious pleading; for the young creature she more
+than half supported was trembling like a leaf. Touched with exquisite
+pity, Sir Noel arose, drew Ruth gently toward him, and kissed her on
+the forehead.
+
+"We shall have Walton better now," he said, leading her to a seat.
+"With two such nurses he can have no excuse for keeping ill."
+
+"Is he so ill?" questioned Ruth, blushing crimson at the sound of her
+own voice. "I thought, I hoped--"
+
+"We all hoped that the short journey up from 'Norston's Rest' would do
+him good rather than harm; but he has been more than usually
+restless," said Sir Noel. "If Lady Rose will excuse me, I will have
+the pleasure of taking you to his room myself."
+
+Ruth stood up, blushing because of her own eager wishes; ready to cry
+because of the quiet gentleness with which her intrusion into that
+family had been received. Never, in all her short life, had she so
+keenly felt the great social barriers that she had overleaped. If
+reproaches and coldness had met her on the threshold of that house,
+she could have borne them better than the kindness with which Lady
+Rose had introduced her, and the gracious reception awarded her by Sir
+Noel; for she could not help feeling how much had been suppressed and
+forgiven by that proud man, before he could thus offer to present her
+with his own hand to his son.
+
+When Sir Noel offered his arm, she took it for the first time in her
+life, with such trembling that the old man patted the hand that
+scarcely dared to touch him, and smiled as he looked down upon her.
+
+They went up a flight of steps and through several rooms. The house in
+Grosvenor Square was by no means so spacious as "Norston's Rest," but
+the splendor of its more modern adornment would have won her
+admiration at another time. Now she only thought of the husband she
+had fled from, to whom his own father was conducting her.
+
+Sir Noel opened a door, paused on the threshold a moment, and then
+went into the room where Walton Hurst was sitting.
+
+"My son," he said, in his usual quiet voice, "you must thank Lady Rose
+for the surprise I bring you. It is she who has persuaded your wife to
+come home to us with a less ceremonious welcome than I was prepared to
+give."
+
+Walton Hurst stood up like a healthy man, for astonishment had given
+him fictitious strength; he came forward at once, reaching out both
+hands. Sir Noel quietly withdrew his arm from the hand that had hardly
+dared to rest on it, and left the room.
+
+The marriage of Walton Hurst, only son of Sir Noel Hurst, of
+"Norston's Rest," to Miss Ruth Jessup, daughter of the late William
+Jessup, was announced in the _Court Journal_ that week. Some few
+persons noticed that the usual details were omitted; but the fact
+itself was enough to surprise and interest society, for young Hurst
+was considered the best match of the season, and no one could learn
+more of the bride than that Sir Noel was well pleased with the match,
+and the young lady herself was the most intimate friend of his lovely
+ward, the Lady Rose.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The joy bells were ringing merrily at "Norston's Rest." Sir Noel and
+Lady Rose had been down at the old mansion more than a month, and
+guests chosen from the brightest and highest of the land were invited
+to receive the young heir and his bride on their return from a brief
+wedding tour on the continent. Having once accepted this fair girl as
+his daughter, Sir Noel was a man to stand right nobly by the position
+he had taken. Born a gardener's daughter, she was now a Hurst, and
+must receive in all things the homage due a lady of "Norston's Rest."
+
+For this reason those joy bells were filling the valley with their
+sweetest music; for this the streets of the village were arched with
+evergreens, and school-children were busy scattering flowers along the
+street to be trodden down by the wheels of the carriage or the hoofs
+of four black horses, sent to meet the young couple at the station.
+
+It was a holiday in the village. The tenants on the estate turned out
+in a body, and were to be entertained now as they had been when the
+young heir became of age.
+
+The landlady of the "Two Ravens" stood at the inn door, with her arms
+full of yellow lilies, hollyhocks and sweetwilliams, which she
+lavished in gorgeous masses on the carriage as it passed. Hurst took
+up one of the flowers and gave it to the bride, who held it to her
+lips, and smiled pleasantly upon the good friends of her father as she
+passed through them.
+
+When the carriage drew up at "Norston's Rest," Sir Noel came down the
+steps, took Ruth upon his arm, and led her across the great terrace
+into the hall, where Lady Rose stood ready to welcome her. In the
+background all the servants of the household were assembled, headed by
+the steward and Mrs. Mason, both quiet and reverential in their
+reception of the bride, as if they had never seen her before.
+
+Still, in the good housekeeper's face there was a proud lighting up of
+the countenance, that might have been traced to an inward
+consciousness that it was her protegee and goddaughter who was
+receiving all this welcoming homage; but from that day no person ever
+heard Mrs. Mason allude to the fact, except once, when Ruth addressed
+her by the old endearing title, she said, with simple gravity:
+
+"Do not tempt a fond old woman to forgot that she is only housekeeper
+to the mistress of 'Norston's Rest.'"
+
+After all the festivities were over, and Ruth was established in her
+new position, Lady Rose, who had been the leading spirit in every
+social arrangement, came to Sir Noel in his library one day. There she
+announced her resolve to leave "The Rest," and retire to one of her
+own estates in another part of England--that which she had once been
+willing to bestow on Richard Storms in ransom of Walton Hurst's honor.
+The old baronet received this proposal with even less composure than
+he had exhibited when the announcement of his son's marriage was made
+to him. With grave and pathetic sadness he drew the girl toward him
+and kissed her on the forehead.
+
+"I will not ask you to stay, my child," he said, holding her hands in
+his until both began to tremble. "I had hoped I--oh, Rose! your own
+father could not have parted with you more unwillingly. It will not
+seem like the old place without you to any of us."
+
+"Yes, oh, yes. They are both so happy--very happy! Don't you think so?
+One is not missed much. There, there, Sir Noel, this parting with you
+almost makes me cry!"
+
+It did bring tears into Sir Noel's eyes--the first that Lady Rose had
+ever seen there in her life.
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Norston's Rest, by Ann S. Stephens
+
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