Part 48 (1/2)
”Lie there, my child--lie there!” she exclaimed. ”She gave you into my charge, and I have been faithful. Sleep, if you like, but let it be in peace, for there will be no wedding to-morrow!”
Was she mad? Was she crazy? Isa asked herself those questions, as she heard the door closed and locked upon her; then, unable to restrain her tears, she sank back weakly weeping.
Book 2, Chapter XXIX.
”THEY'RE BRINGING MY LADY HAME.”
Alexander McCray, in his excitement at being told that Brace Norton was in the hall, set down the decanter upon the carpet, where it was directly after kicked over by the under-butler. But McCray hurried out, lest Sir Murray should hear who had arrived--his dread being that there would be a _fracas_ brought on by the young man's imprudence. He looked for the visitor, though, in vain, and turned back to enter the dining-room, when the gla.s.s door looking out upon the carriage-drive was thrown open, and Brace, pale and wild-looking, appeared.
”Gude save us! and how can ye be sae foolish, laddie?” exclaimed McCray, hurrying to him. ”Ye'll mak' sair wark of it a', and do naebody any gude. If ye lo'e the puir bairn,” he said, with a touching simplicity, ”gang yer gait, and let her be in peace, for ye'll break her puir sair hairt if ye mak' a dust noo!”
”What?” whispered Brace--”has she not told you?”
”Told me?” exclaimed McCray. ”Ah! stop, then! Gude save us, the la.s.sie's mad! Jenny! wife!--here, stop!”
But Alexander McCray's words might have been true, from the way in which the housekeeper rushed into the dining-room, exclaiming, ”Sir Murray-- Sir Murray!”
The pent-up excitement of years upon years was struggling for exit, and, heedless of all present--of the confusion her presence created as the baronet rose, glaring at her with a mingling of fear and anger--Jane darted towards him.
”Where is McCray? Take this woman out?”
”No--no,” she shrieked, excitedly. ”Let no one dare to touch me! I knew the truth would out some day; and now it has come--come in time to stop this cruel wedding. It has been hidden from the eyes of man all these years, but Heaven would not suffer that it should rest longer.
No!” she cried, as, clinging to Sir Murray, he tried to shake her off--”it has come home to you at last. I will not leave go. You know how I have kept my lips sealed; and now the time is come when they should be opened. Sir Murray--my poor lady--has--”
Jane McCray's words became inaudible, as, dizzy with excitement, she reeled and then fell, to lie insensible upon the carpet. The visitors looked from one to the other; some sought to a.s.sist the housekeeper, others made for the door; while, trembling himself, Lord Maudlaine hurried to Sir Murray's side.
”In Heaven's name, what does it all mean?” the Viscount whispered.
”I don't know--I--I--What, you here?” exclaimed Sir Murray, as Brace Norton appeared in the doorway.
”Tell him, McCray,” said Brace, in a low voice. ”Speak to him gently.”
Pale and scared-looking, his ruddy, open countenance speaking the sense of the painful duty he had to perform, McCray moved slowly towards Sir Murray.
”What is it?” the latter said, in a strangely incoherent way. ”Is Miss Gernon ill or--or--in Heaven's name, speak!” he cried, as if forcing the words to leave his lips--”_has she fled_?”
”No, Sir Mooray,” said the old Scot, in a low voice, as he spoke almost tenderly, watching the change in his master's countenance the while, and catching him by the wrist; and, as if foreseeing what would happen, he placed his arm round him. ”Sir Mooray,” he whispered now, as the baronet's eyes a.s.sumed a fixed and ghastly expression, ”_they're bringing my lady hame_!”
McCray's foresight was needed; for at those words--words that Sir Murray Gernon seemed to have expected--he raised one hand to his cravat, and then his knees gave way beneath him, and he would have fallen but for the stout supporting arm of his old servant.
”It's apoplexy! Sir Mooray was seized so before. There, for Gude-sake, my laird, don't stand glowering there like that, but rin and send a groom for the doctor. Fetch pillows, will ye? and, ladies and gentlemen, in Sir Mooray's name I ask ye all to gang hame; for this is a sair nicht at the Castle!”
At the same moment there was seen through the darkness of the autumn evening the flas.h.i.+ng of lights in the park avenue, then they slowly approached the bridge, pa.s.sed over it, and a few minutes after there were steps upon the gravel drive, and, headed by Captain Norton, hat in hand, men bore softly into the great hall a hastily-contrived litter.
Then, guided by McCray, the litter was borne into one of the nearest rooms, and slowly and in silence the men went out on tip-toe, leaving present only Brace Norton, his father, and the old major-domo.
No word was spoken, but McCray softly stole to the door and closed it, as, suddenly, Captain Norton fell upon his knees, resting his hands for a few moments upon the litter, covered as it was with a white sheet; and then, taking the hand stretched out to him by his son, he tottered from the room; and those who looked upon his pale face saw that great scar standing out plain and red, and that his eyes were wet with tears.
The weakness was but of a few minutes' duration; and as they stood in the brightly-lighted hall once more, Captain Norton's voice was sharp and short in its utterance, as he inquired of the state of Sir Murray Gernon.