Volume Ii Part 13 (1/2)

That was unnecessary. Her own excitement compelled her to take the word.

”Oh quick, Walter! If mamma should miss me, and come out in search!

What a commotion! Hurry! quick!... The buggy in front?--is it not?...

You have everything ready of course? Oh hurry!”

Petty was puzzled What was she up to? Yet it did not matter what. It was right, or she would not do it. And if there was danger, he would be at her side. She flew to the front of the line, he striding, almost running, beside her. She was in the buggy in an instant. He followed.

The reins were in his hands. The stable-boy let go the horse's head.

They were away.

Away, but whither? Home, of course. Where else could she desire to go?

Yet why so much mystery? such anxiety to escape, and steal away? It must be that detestable Wilkie, who had been so intrusive at Fessenden's Island. She had been staving him off for a week back, he thought he had observed. Now her mother was forcing him on her, and she had run away. What a fine spirited girl! Yet why did all the mothers run after that cad Wilkie? He was not a gentleman even, and yet Walter's own mother had been encouraging his attentions to his sister Ann. A pretty brother-in-law to bring into a family! And to think the fellow should presume to have two strings to his bow! And such strings! It made this jolly clatter of hoofs and wheels, this careering headlong through the night, even more delightful, if that were possible, to think of the other man left behind and biting his nails in disappointment.

”Quicker, Walter! quicker! Are we safely away, do you think? Can they overtake us?” How close she nestled to his side! How strong and protecting he felt! How heroic, as he peered out in the darkness, between the ears of his horse, to see if all were clear! The horse could see the way and take the turns, Walter could not. His driving was an act of faith; he could but sit and peer, and feel the horse's mouth, and be alert against a stumble or anything which might befall.

Not seeing, he could not guide. It was late, fortunately, and there were no other travellers on the road. The night air blew past them fresh and exhilarating, and the soft pressure of his companion nestling to his side was an unspeakable delight. She seemed agitated--unduly, as it appeared to him; but then a woman is a tender thing, he thought, and how tender and solicitous he would be of this one, if she gave him the right! He could feel her tremble, and she spoke short ejaculatory sentences from time to time; not as if she wanted him to answer--and what was there he could say?--but merely to relieve her high-wrought feelings.

”I did not think I could have done it, Walter. Only for you I could have broke away. I feel quite wicked. But surely even mamma has no right to come in between you and me; and now she certainly must not.”

Walter Petty agreed with the conclusion, but was at a loss to divine the premisses through which it was arrived at. However, they were going down a steep hill, his faculties were on the stretch as they jolted down in the darkness, and he had to support the horse, momentarily in danger of a stumble or upset upon the loose stones which enc.u.mbered the way. He did not answer, and Margaret was growing accustomed to the situation and recovering her composure.

They pa.s.sed a wayside tavern whose windows still showed light, standing at a crossing where four ways met. Margaret recognised it, and the next moment observing that they turned to the right, she exclaimed--

”Walter! That is Mollekin's; you should have turned to the left for Narwhal Junction. If you keep on as we are going, we shall be at Clam Beach in fifteen minutes.”

”Or ten, dear Margaret,” Walter answered.

Margaret bounded up in her seat and drew away. Had Walter not clutched at her gown in time, she must have fallen out.

”Mr Petty! How come _you_ to be here? What trap--what trick is this?”

”You brought me yourself, Miss Naylor. I have complied with your wishes as far as I have known how. You called me. You seemed to want my service. I was proud to be of use.”

”You? I was to have met---- I did not call you, Mr Petty. How could you suppose it? I am not intimate with you. We are common acquaintances. That is all. What right had you to intrude? You have done me an irreparable injury. I should not have expected this of you.”

”You came out of the hall in haste, Miss Naylor. You spoke to me. You said 'Walter.' I obeyed. I supposed you wanted to get home.”

”You----” Margaret did not finish the sentence. Why should she betray herself? she thought. He seemed to have no suspicion as to her intentions. Why should she enlighten him? As he had frustrated her design, her best course was to leave him in his delusion. It would prevent gossip in the hotel. She would acquiesce in his supposition, seeing that her scheme to get away was balked for the present. ”I did not know you in the dark, Mr Petty; I thought you were some one else.

But it is all right. I have been driven nearly crazy by those jarring fiddles, and the dust and heat. Thanks for your kind readiness to oblige. I am dizzy with headache. I shall go to my room at once, and be asleep before the rest get home.”

There was a clatter of hoofs behind them. Margaret drew her wraps over her head, and cowered low in her seat. Was she pursued? Was she overtaken? A little in front shone the lights of the hotel. How welcome they were now! A horseman dashed past at full gallop. He leapt down at the hotel door, and when the buggy drew up, Walter Blount was there to receive Margaret on alighting.

”You took away my buggy, Mr Petty,” he observed, when that gentleman's countenance came within the circle of light streaming from the hotel door. ”However, you have brought it safely here. Accept my thanks. I will relieve you now.” Then turning to Margaret, ”Now, dearest! in again!” He followed her, and to Petty's astonishment, the pair were gone.

Joseph Naylor, lounging on the gallery hard by, had seen the pa.s.sage.

He came forward and laid his hand on Petty's arm, as, standing stock-still in his bewilderment, he peered into the darkness after the vanished buggy.

”A strange part you seem to have played in those young folk's comedy--a tantalising part, and laughable, if people knew about it.