Elsie on the Hudson Part 29

"You remember the bit of news--in regard to the escape of a convict--which hastened our departure for the North some months ago?"

"Yes, sir; and has he not been caught and returned to his prison?"

"No; and I have reason to think he is somewhere in this neighborhood, probably bent on evil deeds, perhaps among them some harm to my daughter, whose testimony helped to send him to prison for the burglary committed here. I tell you this, my child, as a warning to you to be very careful how you expose yourself to possible danger from him."

"Yes, papa, I will; but you know I never go outside the grounds without a protector, because you long ago forbade my doing so."

"Yes; but now you must not go everywhere even inside of them; avoid the wood, and keep near the house unless I am with you."

"Yes, sir; I will obey. But, father, he may come into the house in the night. You know he did before."

"Yes, I remember; and I have arranged to have watchmen--armed men--patrolling the grounds near at hand; so that if he makes such an attempt it will be at the risk of his life. It is wise and right for us to take all possible precautions, then trust calmly and securely in the protecting care of our Heavenly Father. Try to do so, dear child, and do not lie awake in fear and trembling."

"I will not, if I can help it, father," she said.

"I will remember the sweet words of the Psalmist, 'The salvation of the righteous is of the Lord; he is their strength in the time of trouble. And the Lord shall help them and deliver them: he shall deliver them from the wicked, and save them, because they trust in him.'"

"Yes," he said, "trust in the Lord and he will deliver you. 'According to your faith be it unto you.' Have confidence in your earthly father too. We will have the doors open between our rooms, and if anything alarms you in the night run right to your father for protection and help."

"I will, dear papa," she said; "and, oh, with a kind, all-wise and all-mighty Heavenly Father, and so dear and wise an earthly one, I can lie down in peace and sleep as sweetly as ever I did."

"I hope so, dear child. And I think I hardly need caution you to keep all this from our timid, nervous Grace; and the younger ones also."

"They shall not learn it from me, papa," she said; "I will do what I can to keep them all in ignorance of the danger that seems to threaten."

She kept her word, and a week slipped by without any further evidence of the near vicinity of the convict.

CHAPTER XVI.

Lucilla and Grace rode out every day on their ponies, always accompanied by their father, sometimes by Violet also, though the latter generally preferred a drive in the carriage, taking her children with her. And Lucilla, being stronger than Grace, would, if she had occasion, go a second time when it suited her father to go with her. Chester Dinsmore came often to the house, and sometimes joined them in their rides; for he was keeping a vigilant watch for traces of the escaped convict who was known to cherish so great an enmity to Lucilla.

Chester made no lover-like advances to the girl he so coveted, because so far he had been unable to win her father's consent, but he was glad to seize every opportunity to be with her and do his best to make himself necessary to her happiness. So far she seemed to look upon him as a pleasant friend, but nothing more; yet he was not altogether discouraged. He thought her worth long and patiently waiting for and much effort to win.

One afternoon of a beautiful October day the captain remarked that he had an errand to the town, and asked who would like to go with him.

"I should like it," said Violet, "but cannot very well, as I am to have a dress fitted."

"And you, Grace, had so long a ride this morning that you are too tired for another, I presume?" her father said inquiringly.

"Yes, papa," she said; "though I love to ride with you for my escort, I believe I am too tired for anything but a rest and nap this afternoon."

"So, father, I'm afraid you can not secure any better company than mine," remarked Lucilla with an amused little laugh.

"So it seems," he said. "Well, since I can do no better, I will accept yours if it be offered me."

"It is, then, sir; and I promise to be ready at any hour you appoint."

"We will start early, shortly after leaving the table, that we may get home before dark," he said, with a look and smile that seemed to say her company would be very acceptable.

The roads were good, the horses fresh and lively; and they had a delightful ride going to Union, and also returning--until near home.

Chester had joined them, and the captain, seeing something in a field belonging to his estate that he wanted to examine, told the others to ride on and he would follow very shortly.

They did as he requested, but had not gone more than a hundred yards when a man suddenly rose from behind a bush, pistol in hand, and fired, taking aim at Lucilla. But Chester had seized her bridle at the instant of the rising of the figure, and backed both her horse and his just in time to escape the shot which whizzed past them over the horses' heads. Chester instantly s.n.a.t.c.hed a pistol from his pocket, took aim at the miscreant, and fired at the same instant that the scoundrel sent a second shot in their direction. Then the wounded murderer dropped and lay still as death, while Chester dismounted, reeled, and fell by the roadside--dead, as Lucilla thought in wild distress. She dismounted and went to him.

"Oh, Chester, Chester, where are you hurt?" she cried in sore distress.

He seemed to be unconscious, and she did not know whether he was dead or alive. But the next moment her father was beside her with two or three of the men employed on the estate.

"Oh, papa, he has died for me!" she cried, hot tears streaming down her face.

"No, he is not dead, daughter," her father said in tender tones. "But we will never forget the service he has done us this day."

"No, sah, Mars Chess's alive, sho 'nuff," said one of the men; "an'

we'll git Doctah Arthur or Doctah Harold or Herbert here, and dey'll cure him up, sho's a gun."

"Yes; go after one of them as fast as you can. Catch Mr. Chester's horse and ride him; then take him to The Oaks and leave him there. Mr.

Chester must be carried carefully into Woodburn and nursed there--as long as he needs it. Well, is that fellow living or dead?" he asked of one of the men who had climbed the fence and was stooping over the prostrate form of the convict.

"Dead, cap'ain; dead as anything. He won' do no mo' mischief in dis worl'."

"Poor wretch!" sighed the captain. Then he gave directions to the men to go to the house and bring from there a cot-bed on which they could carry the wounded man without increasing his suffering by unnecessary jolts and jars.

All this time Lucilla was standing by her father's side, trembling and weeping.

"Oh, papa, I'm afraid he has given his life for mine," she sobbed.

"I hope not, dear child," he said; "he is living, and I hope his wound will not prove mortal. In saving my daughter's life he has done me a service that I can never repay, and I hope it is not to cost him his own life."

At that moment Chester's eyes opened, and Lucilla never forgot the look of joy and love that he gave her.

"Thank G.o.d, you are alive and unhurt," he said, in a low tone and gasping for breath.

"But, oh, Chester, you are so terribly injured," she sobbed. "I am afraid you are suffering very much."

"Don't weep. I can bear it," he said.

"My dear fellow, don't try to talk any more now," said the captain. "I have sent for one or more of our doctors, and here come my men with a cot-bed to carry you to Woodburn, where you must stay until you are entirely well."

"You are most kind, captain," murmured the half-fainting young man, "but----"

"No, no; don't try to talk. I can never repay you for saving my child," the captain said with emotion.

Chester's only reply was a look at Lucilla that seemed to say that nothing could be too costly if done for her.