Judith seized his hand, and shook it with a vigor that made him cry out with a spasm of pain. Then her face flushed, and a strange, unholy light shot into her eyes.

"Not so well as you think, or a grip of the hand like that wouldn't have made you wince so. You may have need of me, yet," she said, turning upon Ruth; "to my thinking, it's more than likely."

"I hope not," answered Ruth; "and I am sure that all who love my father hope so too."

"Of which I am one," was the quick reply. "You may make sure of that.

No one wants to see Jessup about more than I do. Though he does come so seldom to the public, it will be a holiday when he orders the next can of beer at the 'Two Ravens.' So, hoping for the best, good-day to both of you."

CHAPTER XLIII.

THE LOST LETTER.

Judith Hart took her way straight for the wilderness. She pa.s.sed along the margin of the black lake, made at once for the summer-house, and looked in, then turned away with an exclamation of disappointment.

"I thought he would 'a' been here, so sharp as he was for news," she muttered, tearing off a handful of rushes, and biting them with her teeth, until they rasped her lips. "There's no depending on him; but wait till we're wed. Then he'll have to walk a different road. Ha!"

The report of a gun on a rise of ground beyond the lake brought this exclamation from her, and she hastened on, muttering to herself, "It's his gun. I know the sound of it, and I thought he had forgotten."

Directly she came in sight of a figure walking through the thick undergrowth.

"Richard! Richard Storms!"

The man came toward her, moving cautiously, and holding up one hand.

"Hush! Can't you speak without screaming?" he said, hissing the words through his teeth. "It's broad daylight, remember, and by that, there's no pa.s.sing you off for the other one, if a gamekeeper should cross us."

"Why not? I've just seen Ruth Jessup and myself in the gla.s.s at the same time, and we're like as two peas. Only for her finikin airs, I defy any one to say which was which."

"But she would never have called out so l.u.s.tily."

"Oh, that was because I was o'erjoyed to see you, after finding the little lake-house empty!" answered the girl, laying her hand on his shoulder.

Storms shook the hand off.

"Don't do that, if you want to pa.s.s for a lady," he said, rudely.

"A lady, now! As if I was not as good as Ruth Jessup, any day, and more of a lady, too," retorted the girl, with pa.s.sionate tears in her eyes.

"Ruth Jessup isn't the girl to lay her hands on a man's shoulder without his asking," said Storms, setting down his gun, and dusting his coat, as if her touch had soiled it. "Who knows that some one may not be looking on?"

"And if it chanced, what harm, so long as we are to be man and wife so soon?" pleaded the girl, now fairly crying.

"What harm! Do you think I want every gamekeeper on the place to be jibing about the la.s.s I mean to make a lady of, if she's only careful of herself?"

"If!" repeated the girl, dashing away her tears. "What 'ifs' are there between you and me? Before we go another step, I want to hear about that."

Storms laughed, and said, carelessly,

"Never mind. What news do you bring me?"

"None--not a word, while there are 'ifs' in the way, let me tell you that; though I have found something that you would give a hundred guineas down to get hold of, and the young master a thousand to keep back."

"You have! What is it?"

"Nothing that has an 'if' in it."

"There, there! Don't be silly. I mean no 'ifs.' Have I not said, as plain as a man can speak, what shall be between us?"

"Well, when we are settled in the farm up yonder, I will give you something that Sir Noel would sell his whole estate to get from me."

"As if I believed that."

"But you may believe it. The more time I have for thinking, the more worth it seems."

"But what is it?"

"Only a penny's worth of paper."

"Bah!"

"With writing on it that proves who shot old Jessup!"

Storms turned fiercely upon her.

"Proves what?"

"That Walton Hurst shot old Jessup."

"A paper! Who wrote it?"

"Jessup himself."

"You have such a letter signed by Jessup?"

"I just have that!"

"Give it to me, la.s.s! Give it to me!"

"Not yet. I'm thinking it just as well to keep the bit of paper in my own hands," was the sharp answer. "'Ifs' might come up again, you know!'"

A look of shrewd cunning stole over the features Judith's suspicious eyes were searching. Storms turned from her with a contemptuous gesture.

"There, there! I'm not to be taken in with such chaff. Try something better. If you had such a paper it wouldn't be kept back from a true sweetheart one minute. You've got a man of sense to deal with."

"I haven't got it, have I? Look here!" cried Judith, drawing back, and unfolding a paper she took from her bosom. "The letters are large enough. You can read from here. Is that Jessup's name or not?"