Cursed by a Fortune Part 42

"Oh!" she sighed, and the tears began to flow, accompanied by a piteous sobbing, for the meaning of it all came back.

He went out again, and returned with a gla.s.s containing some fluid, then pa.s.sing his hand beneath her head, he raised her a little.

"Drink this," he said.

"No, no, I can not bear it. You hurt me horribly."

"I can not help it. Drink!"

He pressed the gla.s.s to her lips, and she drank the vile ammoniacal mixture.

"Now, lie still. I will not hurt you more than I can help, but I must see if the bone is broken, and set it."

"No, no, not yet Pierce," she sobbed; "I could not bear it while I am in this state. Let me tell you--let me explain to you first."

"Be silent!" he cried, angrily. "I do not want to hear a word I must see to your ankle before it swells up and the work is impossible."

"Never mind that, dear. I must tell you," she cried, piteously.

"I know all I want to know," he said, bitterly; "that the sister I have trusted and believed in has been cruelly deceiving me--that one I trusted to be sweet and true and innocent has been acting a part that would disgrace one of the village wenches, for to be seen even talking to that young scoundrel under such circ.u.mstances would rob her of her character. And this is my sister! Now, lie still. I must bandage this hurt."

"Oh, Pierce, dear Pierce! You are hurting me more than I can bear," she sobbed; for he had gone down on one knee as he spoke, and began manipulating the injured joint.

"I can not help it; you must bear it. I shall not be long."

"I--I don't mean that, dear; I can bear that," she moaned. "It is your cruel words that hurt me so. How can you say such things to me?"

"Be silent, I tell you. I can only attend to this. If it is neglected, you may be lame for life."

"Very well," she said, with a pa.s.sionate cry; "let me be lame for life-- let me die of it if you like, but you must, you shall listen to me, dear."

"I will not listen to you now--I will not at any time. You have killed my faith in you, and I can never believe or trust in you again."

"But you shall listen to me," she cried; and with an effort that gave her the most acute pain, she drew herself up and embraced her knees.

"You shall not touch me again until you listen to me. There!"

"Don't behave like a madwoman," he said, sternly. "Lie back in your place; you are injuring yourself more by your folly."

"It is not folly," she cried; "I will not be misjudged like this by my own brother. Pierce, Pierce, I am not the wicked girl you think."

"I am glad of it," he said, coldly; "even if you are lost to shame."

"Shame upon you, to say such words to me."

"Perhaps I was deceived in thinking I found you there to-night with your lover."

"My lover!" she cried, hysterically.

"Now, will you lie down quietly, and let me bandage your ankle, or must I stupefy you with chloroform?"

"You shall do nothing until you have listened to me," she cried, wildly.

"He is not my lover. I never had a lover, Pierce. I went there to-night to tell him to go away, for I was afraid for you to meet him.

I shivered with dread, you were so wild and strange."

"Were you afraid I should kill him," he said, with an angry glare in his eyes.

"Yes, or that he might kill you. Pierce, dear, if I have deceived you, it was because I loved you, and I was fighting your fight."

Indeed! he said, bitterly.

"He has been watching for me, and coming here constantly ever since we came to the house. I couldn't go down the village, or for a walk without his meeting me. He has made my life hateful to me."

"And you could not appeal to your brother for help and protection?"

"I was going to, dear, but matters happened so that I determined to be silent. No, no, don't touch me till you have heard all. I found how you loved poor Kate."

"Will you be silent!" he raged out.

"No, not if I die for it. I found out how you loved Kate, and I soon knew that they meant her for that--that dreadful boy, while all the time he was trying to pay his addresses to me. Then I made up my mind to give him just a little encouragement--to draw him on, so as to be able to let Kate see how utterly contemptible and unworthy he was, for I could lead him on until she surprised us together some day, when all would have been over at once, for she would never have listened to him.

Do you hear me, Pierce? I tried to fool him, but he has fooled me instead, and robbed me of my own brother's love."

"What do you mean by fooling you?" he cried, with his attention arrested at last.

"We have been all wrong, dear; I found it out to-night. He did not take Kate away."

"What! Why, they were seen together by that poaching vagabond, Barker, the fellow the keeper shot at and I attended. He watched them."

"No, dear; it was not Kate with him then: it was I. Kate is gone, and he is in a rage about it."

"Gone? With whom?"

"With--with--oh! Pierce, Pierce! say some kind word to me; tell me you love and believe me, dear. I am hot the wicked creature you think, and--and--am I dying? Is this death?"

He laid her back quickly, and hurriedly began to bathe her temples, but ceased directly.

"Better so," he muttered; and then with trembling hands, which rapidly grew firmer, he examined the injury, acting with such skill that when a low sigh announced that the poor girl was recovering her senses, he was just laying the injured limb in an easy position, before rising to take her hand in his.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

Kate Wilton needed all her strength of mind to bear up against the depression consequent upon her self-inflicted position. As she sat back in a corner of the carriage, dimly lit by a lamp in which a quant.i.ty of thick oil was floating to and fro, she could see that Garstang in the corner diagonal to hers was either asleep or a.s.suming to be so, and for the moment this relieved her, for she felt that it was from kindness and consideration on his part.

But the next minute she was in agony, reproaching herself bitterly for what now presented the aspect of a rashly foolish action on her part.

Then, with her mental suffering increasing, she tried to combat this idea, telling herself that she had acted wisely, for it would have been madness to have stayed at Northwood and exposed herself to the risk of further insult from her cousin, now that she knew for certain what were her uncle's designs. For she knew that appeal to her aunt would be useless, that lady being a slave to the caprices of her son and the stern wishes of her husband, and quite ready to believe that everything they said or did was right.

And so on during the slow night journey toward London, her brain growing more and more confused by the strangeness of her position, and the absence of her natural rest, till the swaying to and fro of her thoughts seemed to be somewhat bound up with that of the thick oil in the great gla.s.s bubble of a lamp and with the stopping of the train and the roll and clang of the great milk tins taken up at various stations.