Part 39 (1/2)

”Oh, my poor husband! And did you let them? Oh!”

”Couldn't catch 'em, my lady: so I did as I was bid; got to my gun as quick as ever I could, and gave the coachman both barrels hot.”

”What, kill him?”

”Lord, no; 'twas sixty yards off; but made him holler and squeak a good un. Put thirty or forty shots into his back, I know.”

”Give me your hand, Mr. Drake. I'll never forget that shot.” Then she began to cry.

”Doant ye, my lady, doant ye,” said the honest fellow, and was within an ace of blubbering for sympathy. ”We ain't a lot o' babies, to see our squire kidnaped. If you would lend Abel Moss there and me a couple o' nags, we'll catch them yet, my lady.”

”That we will,” cried Abel. ”You take me where you fired that shot, and we'll follow the fresh wheel-tracks. They can't beat us while they keep to a road.”

The two men were soon mounted, and in pursuit, amid the cheers of the now excited villagers. But still the perpetrators of the outrage had more than an hour's start; and an hour was twelve miles.

And now Lady Ba.s.sett, who had borne up so bravely, was seized with a deadly faintness, and supported into the house.

All this spread like wild-fire, and roused the villagers, and they must have a hand in it. Parson had said Mr. Ba.s.sett was to blame; and that pa.s.sed from one to another, and so fermented that, in the evening, a crowd collected round Highmore House and demanded Mr. Ba.s.sett.

The servants were alarmed, and said he was not at home.

Then the men demanded boisterously what he had done with Sir Charles, and threatened to break the windows unless they were told; and, as n.o.body in the house could tell them, the women egged on the men, and they did break the windows; but they no sooner saw their own work than they were a little alarmed at it, and retired, talking very loud to support their waning courage and check their rising remorse at their deed.

They left a house full of holes and screams, and poor little Mrs.

Ba.s.sett half dead with fright.

As for Lady Ba.s.sett, she spent a horrible night of terror, suspense, and agony. She could not lie down, nor even sit still; she walked incessantly, wringing her hands, and groaning for news.

Mary Wells did all she could to comfort her; but it was a situation beyond the power of words to alleviate.

Her intolerable suspense lasted till four o'clock in the morning; and then, in the still night, horses' feet came clattering up to the door.

Lady Ba.s.sett went into the hall. It was dimly lighted by a single lamp.

The great door was opened, and in clattered Moss and Drake, splashed and weary and downcast.

”Well?” cried Lady Ba.s.sett, clasping her hands.

”My lady,” said Moss, ”we tracked the carriage into the next county, to a place thirty miles from here--to a lodge--and there they stopped us.

The place is well guarded with men and great big dogs. We heerd 'em bark, didn't us, Will?”

”Ay,” said Drake, dejectedly.

”The man as kept the lodge was short, but civil. Says he, 'This is a place n.o.body comes in but by law, and n.o.body goes out but by law. If the gentleman is here you may go home and sleep; he is safe enough.'”

”A prison? No!”

”A 'sylum, my lady.”