Only One Love, or Who Was the Heir Part 87

"Quite," she said; but she shrank into her corner with a little s.h.i.+ver.

Stephen left her to herself, but would not remain silent, chatting with, or rather to, Mrs. Davenant, in a strain of easy cheerfulness, his eyes wandering to the pale face just showing above the pile of furs.

Their hoofs ringing on the road, which a few hours of early frost had made hard, the horses, the finest pair in the county, for Stephen was critical in such matters and liked the best, spun the distance, and again, almost punctual to the minute, the village of Netherton, to which Stephen had sent the change of horses, was reached.

Slummers stepped down from the box, and was seen to enter the inn yard.

"The horses ought to be out and waiting," said Stephen, with a little impatience.

A moment or two pa.s.sed, and then Slummers came to the carriage door.

Stephen jumped out.

"What is it? Why do you not put the horses to?"--for the others had been taken out and were standing in the stable.

Slummers, for the first time in his life, changed color and hesitated.

"There has been some mistake, sir."

"Mistake!"

"The horses are not here."

Stephen glared at him.

"I can't understand it, sir. I gave your orders most minutely, but George has taken the horses on to Clumley."

Stephen bit his lip and glanced at the carriage.

"Put the others back," he said, "and tell Masters to drive for his life."

Slummers hesitated and went to the coachman, coming back in a moment with an uneasy countenance.

"I'm--I'm afraid they won't reach Clumley in time, sir," he said.

"Masters says that it is impossible. Calculating on fresh horses, he has forced them a bit on the road, and they are used up. If you will look at them, sir----"

Stephen uttered an oath, and his face twitched.

The coachman came up, troubled but respectful. It was no fault of his.

"I thought I should get the change here, sir. I couldn't do it, unless the horses had a quarter of an hour and a wipe down, and then----"

He paused and shook his head.

Stephen controlled himself, though his face was white.

"A quarter of an hour," he said. "We will wait so long, and not a moment longer. Then drive as if your life depended on it. Do not spare the horses."

Then he went to the carriage and forced a smile.

"A little delay," he said, cheerfully. "Would you like to get out for a quarter of an hour, darling?"

Una shook her head.

"I do not care"; but Mrs. Davenant looked at her and spoke out.

"Yes, Stephen," she said. "My dear, you are half frozen."

Stephen went to the window of the inn and looked into the room, then went back.

"Come," he said. "There is a pleasant fire. A rest and the warmth will do you good. Come," and, wrapping a huge fur round her, he took her on his arm and entered the inn.

Mrs. Davenant followed into the room. A fire was burning in the old-fas.h.i.+oned grate. Stephen drew a chair near to the welcome blaze and led Una to it. White and indifferent she sat and looked at the flames.

"It is only for a few minutes, darling, then we shall be off. Come, drink some of this," and he held a gla.s.s of hot spirit and water to her hand.

Una shook her head.

"Thanks, I could not," she said, simply.

Stephen motioned to his mother.

"See that she takes some," he said, in a low voice. "I will go and look after the horses," and he turned. As he did so the door opened, and a lady entered.

For a moment, in the dim light of the low room, Stephen did not recognize her, then a chill fell on him as if a cold hand had laid on his heart. He staggered back, and then she raised her veil and looked at him.

Not a word pa.s.sed. Face to face, eye to eye, they stood. A moment pa.s.sed. Una had not looked round, only Mrs. Davenant stood speechless and trembling. Then, as if with an effort, Stephen regained possession of his quaking soul, and stole nearer to her.

"Laura," he whispered, glancing behind him. "You here? You want me?

Well, let us come outside."

A smile, calm and scornful, flashed from her dark face.

"You cannot pa.s.s," she said.

A wild devil leaped, full grown, into his bosom, and he raised his hand to strike her, but the next instant he was grasped by the shoulder and flung aside, and Gideon Rolfe stood over him.

The room whirled round; scarcely conscious that other figures had entered and surrounded him, he staggered to his feet. Then a cry, two words, "Father! Jack!" smote upon his ear, and with an effort he turned and saw Jack's tall form towering in the low room, with Una clasped tightly, lying p.r.o.ne in his arms.

It was all over. Just as the criminal in the dock, when he sees the judge placing the black cap on his head, knows that his doom is sealed, Stephen knew that all was lost. But the will was not all subdued yet.

There was Davenant blood in his veins. White to the very lips, he stood and glared at them, one hand grasping the table, the other thrust in his breast. Then an evil smile curled the cunning mouth.

"Cleverly planned," he said, speaking as if every word cost him a pang.

"You have beaten me, thus far. Gideon Rolfe, I congratulate you upon the success of your maneuvers; in another hour your daughter would have been the mistress of Hurst; she will, now, I presume, be the wife of a beggar."

Gideon Rolfe looked at him with stern, immovable eyes.