"Wouldn't she?"

Storms laughed as he repeated the audacious insinuation, "Wouldn't she?"

Judith threw off her defiant att.i.tude, and the sharp edge left her speech, which became almost appealing.

"Richard Storms! Was it for my sake?"

"I won't answer you; you don't deserve it, suspicioning a fellow like that."

"I am sorry."

"Yes, after pushing me on to--to anything rather than be nagged, at home and up yonder, about wedding the girl, you come here, when I expected a pleasant meeting, with your scolding and threats. It's enough to drive a man into marrying out of hand."

"No, no, d.i.c.k! You wouldn't do that."

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"If you ever try this on again, I may. One doesn't stand threats, even from the sweetheart he loves better than everything else--that is, if he is a man worth having." "But I didn't threaten you! I only--"

"Said what you must never say again, if you don't want to see me wedded down in yon church, with a farm of my own, and a fortune waiting, which they are willing to pay down, and ask no questions. A pretty la.s.s pining for me too."

"Pretty! Oh, Richard, this is too bad! You have told me a hundred times that of the two, I was--"

The girl broke off and turned away her face.

"And I have told you the truth, else they would have had me fast before this. Both the young master and the old man were threatening me with the law. You might have heard them."

"No. I was never near enough."

"Well, they did, though; and but for you, I might have given in."

"But you never--never will!"

"So long as you keep quiet, I'll stand out."

"Oh, Richard, no mouse was ever so quiet as I will be. Now, say, was it all for my sake?"

"What else could it be?"

"I don't know. Only it is so strange. And Richard! Richard! I will die before--You understand--I would die rather than harm you."

"That is my own brave la.s.s. Now you are like yourself, and we can part friends--better friends than ever."

"Part! It is not so late."

"But the moon is up, and you will be seen by the village people. They must have no jibes to cast on my wife when you and I are wed."

The girl's eyes flashed in the moonlight, which came broadly through a gla.s.s door that led upon the old wooden balcony.

A smile crept over Storms' subtle lips. He was rather proud of his victory over this beautiful Amazon. The brilliant loveliness of her face in the softening light was so like that of Ruth Jessup, that he astonished the handsome virago by taking her head between his hands, and kissing her with something like tenderness.

His heart recoiled from this caress the next moment, as the prodigal son may have loathed the husks he eat, when he was famishing for corn; but Judith sat down upon the hard wooden seat, and covering her face with both hands, broke into a pa.s.sion of delicious tears.

This outbreak of tenderness annoyed the young man, who was hating himself for this apostacy from the only pure feeling that had ever enn.o.bled his heart, and he said, almost rudely, "Come, come, there is nothing to cry about; I am sorry, that's all."

"Sorry!" repeated the girl, lifting her happy, tearful face into the moonlight. "Ah, well, I will go home, now. Good-night, if you will not go with me a little way."

"We must not be seen together," answered Richard, opening the door for her to pa.s.s out; "only remember, I have trusted you."

The girl went to the door, hesitated a moment, and stepped back.

"Will you kiss me again, Richard? It shall be the seal of what I promised."

"Don't be foolish, girl," said d.i.c.k, stooping his head that she might kiss him. "You women are all alike; give them an inch and they will take an ell. There, there; good-night."

Storms stood behind the half-open door, and watched the barmaid as she took the little path which led to the postern gate which Ruth had used on the morning of her wedding-day. A key to this gate had been intrusted to the young man, and he had duplicated it for the girl who had just left him.

When Judith was quite beyond his vision, Storms retired back into the summer-house, and examined it with strange scrutiny. There was but one window, a single sash that opened into the balcony, answering for a second door, which was quite sufficient to light the little apartment.

Through this window the moonlight fell like a square block of marble, barred with shadows. To Storms it took the form of a tombstone lying at his feet, and he stepped back with a sort of horror, as if some evil thought of his had hardened into stone which he dared not tread upon; going cautiously around it, and gliding along the wall, but with his eyes turned that way, he escaped from the building.

CHAPTER x.x.xII.

THE NEW LEASE.

"Sir Noel, farmer Storms is here, wanting to see you about something important, he says."

Sir Noel Hurst was sitting in his library, looking and feeling more like his old self than he had done for days.

"I will see him presently," he said, almost smiling, "but not quite yet. Tell him to wait."

The servant retired, and Sir Noel began to walk up and down the room, rubbing his white hands in a gentle, caressing way, as if some joyous feeling found expression in the movement. The physician had just left him, with an a.s.surance that the son and heir for whose life he had trembled was now out of danger. He had heard, too, that William Jessup was slowly improving, and the burden of a fearful anxiety was so nearly lifted from his heart that he saw the fair form of Lady Rose coming through the flower-garden, beneath his window, with a smile of absolute pleasure. A flight of stone steps led to the balcony beneath the window, and the young lady lingered near them, looking up occasionally, as if she longed to ascend, but hesitated.

"Sweet girl! Fair, n.o.ble girl," thought Sir Noel, as he looked down upon the lovely picture she made, standing there, timid as a child, with a glow of freshly-gathered flowers breaking through the muslin of her over-skirt, which she used as an ap.r.o.n. "G.o.d grant that everything may become right between them, now."

Sir Noel stepped to the window with these thoughts in his mind, and beckoned the young lady to come up. She caught a glance of his face, and her own brightened, as if a cloud had been swept from it. She came up the steps swiftly, and paused before the window, which Sir Noel flung open.

"I saw the doctor, but dared not question him. You will tell me, Sir Noel; but I feel what the news is. You would not have called me had it been more than I--than we could bear."

"I would not, indeed, dear child. G.o.d knows if I could endure all this trouble alone, it would not be so hard."

"I have been down yonder every day, Sir Noel; so early in the morning, sometimes, that it seemed as if the poor flowers were weeping with me.

Oh, how often I have looked up here after the doctors went away, hoping that you would have good news, and notice me!"