Only an Irish Girl Part 14

The same thought is in his own mind; but not for worlds would he put it into words. The men fled in a panic, thinking he was not alone; but let them discover that they have only one man to face, and they will soon return and make short work of him.

He knows it well; but what can he do? He cannot leave Honor, and, with his wounded arm, it would be impossible for him to carry her so far as the house. And as he holds her there, her cheeks against his shoulder, her little cold hands in his, he thinks that death itself with her might not be so very terrible after all.

"They will not come back," he tells her--"at least not yet. They will be afraid."

But even as he speaks a stealthy footfall breaks the quiet, and a man's voice says low and guardedly, yet distinct enough for them to hear:

"Have they had time to get to the house, Neil?"

"Troth an' they have, sor--twice over! I'd take my oath they didn't let the gra.s.s grow under their feet, once they got free!"--and the man laughs grimly, a low mocking laugh that echoes through the lonely place.

Honor clings more close to Brian, and shivers like one stricken with ague. So far they have not been seen; and the men--Power Magill and his servant--must have pa.s.sed close to them. But any moment a stir, a heavy breath may betray them.

"If I thought there was a chance of overtaking them, I would follow them even now," Power Magill says fiercely. "To think a fellow like that should have baffled us at the last moment! If it were not for the men's cowardly fear that the police were with him, he couldn't have done it."

"Faith, and that's true for yer honor!"

Very slowly they come back again, talking earnestly. It is evident from what they way that Power Magill has offended his friends by to-night's rashness and, though his companion speaks respectfully there is a veiled threat in his words that Power cannot but feel.

"I would do it over again," Power answers sternly, "if it was my life that I was risking in place of my liberty."

"But the boys don't care to risk their liberty--why should they, the cratures?--even for a beautiful young lady like Miss Honor--Heaven bless her!" the other man says st.u.r.dily.

His master retorts angrily; but they are too far off now for their words to be heard; and again silence reigns.

It is long before Brian and Honor dare to move, though the girl is trembling with cold and the man's arm is paining him intensely--longer still before they venture out of their hiding-place.

Honor will never forget that walk up to the house in the chill damp night, the dread of pursuit making her heart throb wildly. Her companion is very silent; and, when he does speak, his voice sounds cold and harsh. More than once she tries to thank him for coming to her help so bravely; but the words die away on her lips. She finds it hard to believe that this man spoke tenderly to her only a little time ago.

His very words ring in her ears and serve to make his grim silence more oppressive.

"He is sorry already for having spoken then," she says to herself; "but he need not be. I shall never remind him of them--never!"

They are within sight of the house before she can summon up courage to thank him for coming to her aid.

"It was so brave of you," she adds simply; "for of course you did not know how many you might have to face! I'm afraid I am very stupid--I don't know how to thank you as you deserve."

"No, no," he says hastily, almost impatiently. "Pray do not thank me at all; I deserve no thanks, I a.s.sure you! I would have done as much for any woman!"

There is something almost cruel in the way in which he says it, and tears well up in the girl's eyes.

"I know you would," she says, with cold gentleness; "but that does not make the act less brave."

Suddenly he turns on her with unexpected pa.s.sion.

"I was not half so courageous as you were, Honor! I would not have met Power Magill at such an hour and in such a place for any consideration.

You were--if you will let me say so--recklessly brave to do such a thing."

The light from the open door streams out, and she looks up at him as he speaks. His face is ghastly pale, and his tone is angry and scornful.

She realizes for the first time how strange her rash act must appear in the eyes of this fastidious Englishman. The women of his world would never have done such a thing, she knows; but that does not trouble her--it is the scornful surprise on his face that cuts her so cruelly.

"Never mind," she says to herself, suppressing a sob as they go up the steps together. "I am not a fine London lady, and I don't wish to be; if the pater and the boys are content with me as I am that is enough.

It is nothing to me what this man thinks."

Brian is almost past conscious thought just now; but he hides his pain bravely till they get into the house and he has seen the great doors fastened securely; then he sinks down exhausted, and Honor sees, by the blood on his sleeve, that he has been wounded.

Instantly the whole place is in confusion. A messenger is sent off at once to the chief constable at Drum and another fetches Doctor Symmonds, who when he arrives finds his patient very low indeed.

"It is not the wound," he explains to the squire, "it is the loss of blood that has done the mischief. A little longer, and the poor fellow would have bled to death; as it is, he will need the greatest care to pull him through."

"My dear Honor, I do wish you would try to like him!" Belle Delorme says, looking up at her friend with pretty pleading eyes. "I'm sure he's awfully fond of you--any one can see that."

"And he's rich--why don't you tell me that?" Honor returns scornfully.

"Every one's head seems to be turned by the man's money--even the pater's."

"Your head is not turned," Belle observes dryly, "nor your heart either, unfortunately."

"Tell me one thing," says Honor, facing her friend suddenly--"do you think this George Cantrill is as nice as Launce?"

"As nice as Launce? Well, no, I don't; but then"--gravely--"you don't often see any one who is quite as nice as Launce, do you, dear?"

"I intend to wait till I do, then," Honor retorts.

"Brian Beresford was nearly as nice," Belle says demurely, looking innocently at Honor; "but then he was English, and he had an awful temper--hadn't he?--and----" But she stops with a little gap of surprise, for the man himself, very worn and gaunt-looking, is walking toward them. "Why, Honor, did you know he was coming?"

Honor turns and looks at her tranquilly.

"Did I know who was coming, dear? Aren't you just a trifle vague this morning?"

"I'm awfully glad," the girl answers, with a curious smile; "and I think I'll go home now. Dad is sure to want me; and---- How do you do, Mr. Beresford?"--turning swiftly. "I'm delighted to see you back in Ireland."

"Thanks, Miss Delorme," a deep voice answers; and Honor looks round and sees him standing on the gra.s.s quite close to her--this grave, bearded man who left Donaghmore four months ago, looking so very ill and worn.

He looks ill now, for that matter; but at the sight of him her heart gives a great leap and the color comes into her face.

"An unexpected guest, I can claim no welcome," he says, looking at her almost wistfully.

"But you are as welcome as unexpected," Honor answers, holding her hand and smiling graciously.

He barely touches the slim white fingers; he looks away from her, as if the sight of her beauty pained him.

Belle has disappeared; they can hear her singing as she flits between the great tree-trunks, a dainty figure in her gay print gown.

"You have been ill again?" Honor says gently. She is feverishly excited, but no one could imagine that from her manner. Her voice trembles a little, but that is the only sign she gives of the tumultuous emotion that the sight of this man has roused in her.

And she thought she had forgotten him--that if he never came to Donaghmore it would not matter in the least. His scornful words had hurt her cruelly; she had never forgiven them, and he knew that she had not.

Though she had been so kind to him all those weeks that he lay hovering between life and death he had not been deceived. He left Donaghmore fully conscious that he was not forgiven.