Part 93 (2/2)

There was comfort once more in the fresh thought which came, suggested by his experience in the skirmishes in which he had been engaged, and by his duties in tending the wounded.

For he recalled how, in the majority of cases, unless some important vessel was divided, Nature interposed as the great surgeon for the preservation of her children's lives, causing the veins to chill and contract, and the bleeding to cease; and as Scarlett Markham knelt beside his father, and pressed his lips to the icy brow, he prayed that it might be so now, and that his life might be spared.

”Now, what is to be done?” he said to himself, half rising, as if the act he had done had given him refreshment and a new access of thought.

He stood for a few moments thinking, and then, feeling his way about the place, he satisfied himself where the openings out of the little vault lay, his doubt as to which led to the lake being solved by the steps down to where it was formerly water, but which on testing he now found to be firm floor, and by the little heap of rusty arms over which he nearly fell as he crept about.

His first need was light and help for his father, and to obtain these he felt that perhaps it would be best to surrender.

With this aim in view, he made his way back along the pa.s.sage, kicking against and recovering his sword, and up the flight of narrow stone steps, becoming conscious that the air was growing warmer as he proceeded, and finally that the walls were hot, while straight before him, as he reached the top and tried to penetrate into the chamber, there was a confused pile of heavy stones leaning towards him, as if some party wall or portion of the roof had fallen in that direction, and blocked the way.

He could not stay to investigate, the heat was too great; but the freedom with which he breathed taught him that the ruins had not completely stopped all the chamber, for a steady current of air was flowing past him from below.

He felt instinctively that the fire must have done its work, and that the greater part of the secret pa.s.sage had been obliterated by the falling ruins, so that he must not look for help from that direction.

Retracing his steps, then, he once more reached the vault, whose coolness was pleasant after the stifling heat above. Then, crossing the dark place, he slowly descended the steps, and went onward with extended hands, feeling his way toward the two entries--the original, and that which had been broken through by the fallen tree.

He had not far to go before a faint light stole down to guide his way, and he reached the spot where the pa.s.sage was roofed in with dead branches and twigs, and as he reached it, just faintly heard, came the shrill cry of a blackbird--_Pink-pink-pink_!--from somewhere in the wood above.

A trifle that he would not have heeded at another time, but which now sent a thrill of hope through him, for it told of light and liberty, and help for the sufferer lying in that gloomy vault.

But he wasted no time, pa.s.sing over the crackling refuse of broken wood and stones which here impeded his way, till almost directly after he had cleared all this, and made a turn, catching sight of the bright star-like light low down by the floor of the pa.s.sage--the opening that he had made, and by which the water which had been gathering probably for generations had been drained away.

He was soon at the rough wall which stopped the arch, and, going down on one knee, he listened, for peril had made him cautious, besides which the lessons of life he was receiving in his regimental work taught the necessity for being prepared for enemies at every turn.

All seemed to be perfectly still, and as far as he could judge it was early morning, soon after daybreak. The first rays of the sun appeared to be brightening the surface of the lake as he tried to peer through the orifice, and every now and then the cry of the water-fowl and the splash of water endorsed his belief in there being no danger near.

Feeling satisfied that there was no danger, he returned to the broken opening and stopped short as he heard a sharp rustling, followed by a sound that was evidently the sharp utterance of some one impatient at his position, or because one expected did not come.

Did whoever it was know of the existence of the hole through which the faint light streamed down, showing the configuration of the rough branches which covered the broken place? It seemed only probable, and, feeling the necessity for the greater caution, Scarlett stepped slowly and carefully among the broken fragments till he had pa.s.sed the risky spot, and then hurried on as rapidly as he could till he reached the steps, and, mounting them cautiously, he stood once more in the chamber.

Feeling rapidly about, he uttered a cry of joy, for his hand touched his father's brow; and as it did so, he felt it raised by the burning fingers of the sufferer, who began talking quickly.

”Quick! Which way did they go--Lady Markham--my child Lilian? Why do you not speak? Tell me; they are not in the burning house?”

”Father! don't you know my voice?” whispered Scarlett.

”Know your voice--know you? Yes, yes, my boy. Scar, lad, help me.

They must be somewhere here. I am looking for them. Yes, somewhere in the house.”

”No, no, father; they are in safety down at the Manor.”

”Here, I tell you, sir. Help me to find them. Quick! They are in the burning house and Scar, my boy, is that you?”

Then, seeming to drop off to sleep as his son knelt by him, there was a sigh or two, and then he was breathing regularly, although the inspirations sounded faint and low.

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