Barbara Lynn Part 39

He had just realised what the _igneum lutum_ meant, when Barbara had come along the pa.s.s and he had accosted her.

"Barbara Lynn," he muttered, a note of suspicion creeping into his voice. "What the devil are you doing here?"

"I'm going home."

"Going home to Greystones! Have you seen Lucy?"

"No. Why do you ask?"

He did not reply for a moment, then said:

"Are you sure you haven't pa.s.sed her?"

Barbara's blood began to quicken with vague doubts.

"Have you seen her?" she demanded. "Has my sister been here?"

"Yes, I sent for her."

"And where is she now?"

"Gone home long ago."

"Thank G.o.d."

Barbara uttered the words with profound grat.i.tude, then she turned sharply on the man. "You're doing wrong, Joel. Neither you nor Lucy have any right to meet in this way."

"It will never happen again," he said.

She started uneasily. Into her mind crept a fear that all was not well.

She tried to read his face: the night was too dark and his manner baffled her.

But he rose suddenly, took her roughly by the arm, and turning her round, pointed to the s.h.i.+ning marks.

"Do you know what they are?" he cried.

"I've seen them before," she said, "on such a night as this. They're footprints. Someone has been crossing the marsh." Horror crept over her, but before she could frame a question, he had jerked his hand in the direction of Quaking Hag.

"The fence is broken," he said, "there are gaps in it. Does Lucy know the place?"

"What do you mean, Joel? What has happened? You said Lucy had gone home."

"She ran away and left me. I don't know where she went: I don't know what's become of her. No doubt she's safe at home."

Barbara uttered no cry, no word of anguish or condemnation. She stood for a moment as though frozen, then turned to the man beside her.

"G.o.d forgive you! Some ill may have happened to Lucy! Go to the inn,"

she said. "Go at once. Tell every one to follow me to Quaking Hag."

He hesitated.

"Go," she cried. "Why do you stand there as if you hadn't heard? You're sober enough to know what may have happened."

"I'll help you to look for her," he doggedly replied.

"That's as you please. But you'll go to the inn first."

There was such a note of authority in her voice that he had to obey. He dared not do otherwise.

Barbara left the road, and followed the glittering prints that led away over the marsh. As she got nearer to it, the will o' the wisp shone here and there; the ground got softer, and she knew that slimy pools were opening out on every side. Now and again she called Lucy's name, but there was no answer. Utter silence closed round her. She went on, not daring to hope that she might find a trace of her sister. Quaking Hag kept whatsoever it took, and told no secrets.

Her mind seemed to be stiff with horror. She could think of nothing save that she must go on, until she could go no further.

The footprints were Lucy's. She had run, in her blind fear, some way across the mire before she became aware of its nature. Her one idea had been to escape from Joel, and, when she was safe, steer, by any landmarks she could recognise, for Thundergay. She would not dare seek the Robber's Rake in case her pursuer laid in wait for her there. Now she realised that she was running in the direction of Quaking Hag, and stricken with horror, she would have given expression to it in a call for help, had not dread of Joel's finding her, controlled her tongue.

She paused in her flight and listened. But she could only hear the breaking of bubbles at her feet. Bewildered by the twilight, and the unfamiliar place, she lost herself among a maze of peat-pots. With every step she sank deeper in the ground.

Then afraid to go this way or that she stood still. Should she call? No one would hear her but Joel, and she would rather spend the night here than see his face appearing through the darkness. She looked round. A light shone and flickered like a candle. Could the pack-horse track be so near, and was some one pa.s.sing along it with a lantern?

She started forward again, but only to feel water ooze round her ankles.

Another light shone for a moment to her right, then went out; one rose almost at her feet.

"The witch lights, the witch lights," she muttered, and sinking down upon the damp ground, she covered her eyes with her hand.

There was nothing for it but to wait till morning. She knew that by some mischance she had wandered right in among the quagmire and, as she saw the will-o'-the-wisps burn here and there, she wondered that she had not been sucked down to death. She saw the glitter of her own footsteps as the night darkened, but thought they were more witch-lights s.h.i.+ning to lure her to her doom.

Numbed with cold, frightened to move, her teeth began to chatter, and her limbs shook until they became even too cold for that sign of life.

She sank into a kind of stupor, from which she started at times, thinking that she heard footsteps creeping nearer. But it was only the marsh gas escaping with a sound like a low chuckle. She had no means of guessing the time. Often she thought that the night must be nearly past; it had lasted so long already. When the faintest light crept over the blackness of the sky, she hailed it as the coming of day, but it was only the moon rising behind the clouds.

After that followed a period of utter prostration, in which she saw and heard nothing. She was only conscious of an ever-present horror, which did not seem to have any outward source--she had lost all knowledge of the witch-lights and the marsh.

In this state of stupor Barbara found her.

"Lucy, Lucy," she said, lifting the girl in her arms, and though tears came hardly to her, she sobbed with thankfulness.

Lucy was roused at the sound.

"Save me, save me," she cried.

"You're all right," Barbara replied. "See, I'll carry you through the mire, and then we'll jog along home. Great-granny will think we're both lost, so long out at this time o' year."

"It's nearly morning, isn't it?" asked the girl, clinging to her sister with both hands.

"Bless the bairn, no; not more than ten, at the latest."

She carried the light form as easily as if it had been a child, and retraced her steps. By the time she had reached firmer ground, she was met by the inn-keeper and two men with lanterns. She saw Joel hovering behind them; when she looked for him again he was gone.