The White Gauntlet Part 64

"I promise it, Marion."

"O, Henry! you will promise me something more. You have said you would."

"What more, Marion?"

"I have told you that I would prefer death to jealousy. I only spoke the truth, Henry. I've heard say, that the heart sometimes changes, in spite of itself. I don't believe it. I am sure mine can never change.

Could yours, Henry?"

"Never! what do you wish me to promise? What is it you would bind me to?"

"I've now but one thing worth living for," responded the daughter of Sir Marmaduke Wade, "and that is your love, Holtspur. Promise me that when you love me no more, you will tell me you do not, truly and without fear. Promise that, Henry: for then I shall be happier to die."

"Nonsense, Marion! Why should I enter into such an idle condition? You know I shall love you, as long as I live."

"Henry! Henry! Do not deny me what I have asked? What is there unreasonable in my request?"

"Nothing, dearest Marion. If you insist upon it, you shall have my promise--more than that, my oath. I swear I shall be candid and declare the truth. If ever my heart cease to love you, I shall tell you of its treason. How easily can I promise, what can never come to pa.s.s!"

"But you may be far away, Henry? Enemies may be between us? You may not be able to see me? Then--"

"Then, what would you have me do, dear Marion?"

"Return the token I have given you. Send me back my glove--the _White Gauntlet_. When I see that, 'twill tell me that he to whom I had given it--and along with it my heart--that he who once prized the gift, esteems it no more. That would be a gentler way than words--for your words telling me that bitter truth, might be the last to which I should ever listen."

"If it please you, dearest, I promise to comply with you conditions-- however idle I may deem them. Ah Marion! you shall never get that glove again--never from me. I prize the _white gauntlet_ too much, ever to part with it; more than aught else in the world--excepting the white hand which it once s.h.i.+elded, and which, G.o.d willing, shall yet be mine!"

As Holtspur uttered this impa.s.sioned speech, he raised the "white hand"

to his lips; and imprinted upon it a fond, fervent kiss.

It was the parting salute--though not intended as such. The lightning flashed at that moment, displaying two forms in an att.i.tude that proclaimed them lovers who had made mutual surrender of their souls.

A third form might have been seen by the same light, standing outside the verandah, scarce ten paces distant. It was a female figure, with the face of a young girl--uncoifed, uncloaked, despite the pelting of the pitiless storm.

The lovers, absorbed in their own sweet thoughts, might not have noticed this intruder, but for a slight scream that escaping from her lips, attracted their attention to her. When the lightning blazed forth again, she was gone!

"Oh!" cried Marion, "it was like the shadow of some evil thing. Away, Henry! there is danger! Away! away!"

Without resistance Holtspur yielded to the solicitation. Rapidly recrossing through the shrubbery, he sprang down into the moated ditch, and glided on towards the rear of the dwelling.

Volume Three, Chapter V.

Bet Dancey it was, whose presence revealed by that ghastly gleam, moving like an ill-omened shadow among the shrubbery, had caused the lovers to bring their interview to such a sudden ending.

On his second supplicant gliding silently past him, the facile sentry had followed with equal alertness--this time not with any intention to plead for a promised kiss; but simply to show his respect to the lady by gallantly conducting her beyond the bounds of his jurisdiction.

He had already satisfied himself how profuse had been her grat.i.tude-- prepaid as it was.

On reaching the wicket, he was once more doomed to disappointment. Like the first, his second visitor had also disappeared. He remained some moments, gazing after; but, soon feeling disconsolate in the darkness, he determined on returning to the store-room for his lamp.

Amidst the many surprises of the night he was now to experience the greatest of all.

On entering within the apartment, and raising the lanthorn to the level of his eyes--in order to a.s.sure himself of his prisoner's safety--his astonishment scarce equalled his consternation; when, instead of the cavalier lying bound along the bench, Bet Dancey stood boldly before him! He no longer thought of claiming that promised kiss. A sudden perception of his own stupidity had driven all amorous inclinations out of his mind.

His first impulse was to rush out, and give the alarm to his comrades of the guard. In obedience to this impulse he hurried off into the yard; but, in the confusion of ideas caused by his surprise, he neglected to close the store-room door; and, while he was absent upon his errand, the subst.i.tute for the patriot prisoner quietly slipped out; and gliding along the dark archway, emerged through the wicket without let or interruption.

She had faced towards the rear of the house, with the intention of taking her departure; when an unlucky idea prompted her to turn in the opposite direction. She remembered Marion's visit to the prison. Had her lady rival yet gone to rest? Might they by some chance--perhaps by design--might they have come together?

Under the influence of this suspicion the girl glided along the wall towards the western front of the mansion.

A low murmur of voices guided her to the verandah--a few stealthy steps brought her within sight of two figures in juxtaposition--a flash of lightning revealed who they were--at the same time disclosing a sight that scorched her heart to its very core.

Her first thought was to spring forward and interrupt the interview--to revile--upbraid--anything for the satisfaction of her jealous vengeance.

She was on the eve of thus acting, when a noise heard from behind caused her to stay her intent. It was the murmur of men's voices, mingled with the clanking of steel scabbards. It was the cuira.s.sier guard issuing forth in pursuit.

This suggested to Bet Dancey a better mode of redressing her fancied wrong. She could restore Holtspur to the same prison from which she had set him free! She cared not for the pain it might cause to herself, so that it should wring the heart of her rival.

It was but to return to the gateway; communicate with the guard; and conduct them to the verandah.

All this was done in the shortest s.p.a.ce of time; but, short as it was, during the interval, the lovers had spoken their parting word, and hastily separated.

Just as Holtspur leaped down into the ditch, half-a-dozen cuira.s.siers, headed by a woman, were seen hurrying around the angle of the building towards its western facade.

As they spoke only in low mutterings, and advanced with stealthy steps, it was evident they expected to surprise the lovers, on the spot they had so recently quitted. The woman, keeping in the lead, appeared to direct their movements.

The rain, which had now ceased to fall, had been succeeded by a clearing of the sky, and the interior of the verandah could be viewed from end to end. There was no one inside it!

The cuira.s.siers scanned the gallery with looks of disappointment.

"He's not here! not a sign of him," said one whose voice, from its altered and lugubrious tones, could with difficulty be recognised as that of the outwitted sentinel. "Oh Lord! what'll become of me, if he's got off."

Turning to the woman, he appeared to make some appeal to her in an undertone.

"If he's gone from here," answered she, speaking in a voice that betrayed deep emotion, "it isn't a minute ago. Oh! I wish you had found him, and her too--how glad I'd be to have her exposed--the proud-- saucy dame?"

"Who are you speakin' about? Is it the lady in velvet?"

"No matter who. Go after him. You can't fail to overtake him yet. Oh!

bring him back, and then we'll see whether she--"

"We may go twenty ways, and not the right one," said the corporal of the guard, coming up and taking part in this hurried dialogue.

"No, no!" cried the woman, "you can't go the wrong one. Pa.s.s out by the back of the park. Take the road for Hedgerley; only don't turn that way. Keep the back path straight on by Wapsey's Wood. That's the way they're to take: it was all arranged. Come! I'll go along with you-- Come! come!"

In the voice thus earnestly directing the pursuit of the escaped prisoner, could be recognised that, which, scarce twenty minutes before, had been so earnestly urging him to escape--the voice of Bet Dancey!

Was it a _ruse_ to mislead the guard, or send them on a wrong track?

No: it was her design to cause his recapture.