"My child."

Ruth, who had been resting in an easy-chair, was by his side in an instant.

"I am here, father, but you have not slept. How bright your eyes are!"

"Ruth, have I been out of my head again, or did you say something in the night that lifted the stone from my heart? Is it all or half a dream?"

"I told you only the truth, father."

"Ah, but that truth was everything. It may change everything."

"Do not talk so eagerly, father; the doctor will scold me when he comes."

"Let him scold. You have done me more good, child, than he ever can; but you look worn out, your eyes have dark stains under them."

"I shall be better now," answered the poor girl, turning her face away.

"Ah, yes, everything will turn out right as soon as I can see him.

Anyway, my lips shall never tell a word of it. All the courts in the world could not draw that out of me. He thought I was doubting him--that I meant to harm him, may be. Youth is so quick to act--so quick!"

"Oh, father, did he--did he do it?" cried Ruth, with a quick, pa.s.sionate outburst.

"Have I not said that nothing should make me answer that, la.s.s? No one shall hurt the young master with my help."

Ruth questioned her father no more. His words had confirmed her worst fears. It seemed to her as if all the world had arrayed itself against her feeble strength. But one ray of light broke through her troubles.

Her father was better. He evidently believed in her. The bitter pain had all gone out from his heart. He smiled upon her when she left the room, and tasted of the breakfast she prepared for him with something like a return of appet.i.te.

CHAPTER x.x.x.

THE BARMAID OF THE TWO RAVENS.

"Norston's Rest" had its village lying within a mile of the park gate, mostly inhabited by the better sort of small tradespeople, with laborers' cottages scattered here and there on the outskirts, with more or less picturesqueness. From the inhabitants of this village and a large cla.s.s of thrifty farmers, tenants on the estate, the public house drew its princ.i.p.al support.

One evening, just after the heir of "Norston's Rest" and its gardener were taken up wounded and insensible in the park, a party of these persons was a.s.sembled in the public room, talking over the exciting news. Among them was young Storms, who was referred to and called upon for information more frequently than seemed pleasant to him.

"How should I know?" he said; "the whole affair happened in the night.

There wasn't likely to be any witnesses but the young heir and the old man himself. Who knows that it wasn't a chance slip of the trigger?"

A hoa.r.s.e laugh followed this speech, and the drinking-cups were set down with a dash of derision as one after another took it up.

"A chance slip of the trigger! Ha, ha, ha! Who ever heard tell of a gun going off of itself and killing two men--one at the muzzle and t'other with the stock?" exclaimed one. "Most of us here have handled a gun long enough to know better than that. Come, come, Storms, tell us summat about it, for, if any man knows, it's yoursel'."

"I," said d.i.c.k, lifting both hands in much astonishment, while his face gave sinister confirmation of the charge. "How should I know?

What should bring me into that part of the park?"

"In that part of the park--as if a more likely place could be found for you. Besides, some one said that you were out that very night, and you never gave the lie to it."

"Well, and if I was, what should bring me to the cedars, lying straight in the way between 'The Rest' and Jessup's cottage? My road home lay on the other side."

This was said with a covert smile, well calculated to excite suspicion of some secret knowledge which the young man was keeping back.

"Did you order more wine, sir?"

Storms half leaped from his chair, but sat down again instantly; casting a swift glance at the barmaid, who was apparently occupied in changing some of the empty bottles for others that were full.

"Judith Hart!"

The name had almost broken from his lips, but he checked it promptly, and pushing his empty gla.s.s toward her, looked smilingly in her face, and said, "I was afraid you had forgotten me."

There was a subtle thrill of persuasion in his voice, some meaning far deeper than his words, that turned the girl's averted look to his own.

"No," she answered, almost in a whisper, "it is not me that forgets."

d.i.c.k breathed again; a tone of reproach had broken through the hard composure of her first speech. In reaching forth his cup he managed to touch the girl's hand. She drew it back with a jerk, and flashing a wrathful glance at him left the room.

Meantime the conversation had been going on among the other occupants of the room.

"The doctor says that it may go hard with Jessup. One was saying, 'the ball went clear through him.' As for the young master--".

"Ah, he will be all right in a day or two. There was no great hurt; nothing but a blow on the head, which laid him out stark a while, and left him crazy as a loon; but that is nothing like a hole through the body."

"If Jessup should die, now," said another.

"Why, then, there would be a sharp lookout for the murderer. Now Sir Noel will have nothing done."

"There may be a reason for that," said Storms, coming forward, and speaking in a sinister whisper.

The man, thus addressed, lifted the pewter cup, newly-filled with beer, to his mouth and drank deeply, giving d.i.c.k a long, significant look over the rim.

"Least said soonest mended," he answered, in a low voice, wiping the foam from his lips. "At any rate, where the family up there is concerned. Sir Noel is not likely to make a stir in the matter; and as for Jessup--"

"Jessup is a stubborn fool," said Storms, viciously.

"Not if Sir Noel makes it worth his while. I would rather have a hundred gold sovereigns in my pocket any day than see a dashing, handsome youngster like one we know of at the a.s.sizes; though it would be a rare sight in old England."

"Yes, a rare sight. A rare sight!" said Storms, rubbing his thin hands with horrid glee. "I would go half over England to see it. Only as you say, old Jessup loves gold better than vengeance. If he had died now--"

"Why, then, there would be no evidence, you see."

"Don't you be so sure of that," said Storms, "he may die. Men don't get up so readily with bullet-holes through them. He may, and then--"

Here the young man took his wine from the barmaid, and began to sip its contents, drop by drop, as if it had a taste of vengeance he was prolonging to the utmost.

The girl watched him, and a strange smile crept over her mouth.