Part 43 (1/2)
”Noa! noa! not that Oi could see.”
”Go back to him, friend,” she said, with sudden eagerness, ”tell him that he must come to me at once ... I ... I would speak with him.”
It required all Bathurst's firm strength of will not to betray himself before her. The tender pleading in her eyes, the gentle, womanly sympathy in her voice, set all his pulses beating. But he had made up his mind that she should not know him just then. A look, a cry, might give him away, and there was but one chance now to be of useful service to her, and that was to take the letters at once to London, whilst their joint enemy had for the nonce no thought of him.
Therefore he contrived to say quite stolidly,-
”Noa, noa, the gentleman said to Oi, 'You can bring a message, but th'
lady mustn't come nigh me!'”
She gave a quick little sigh of disappointment.
”Then, my good fellow,” she said, ”try to remember ... tell him ... tell him ... I would wish to thank him ... tell him.... Nay! nay!” she suddenly added, pulling a faded white rose from her belt, ”tell him nothing ... but give him this flower ... in token that I have received his letter ... and will act as he bids me.... You'll remember?”
He dared not trust himself to speak, but as she held out the rose to him he took it from her hand and involuntarily his finger-tips came in contact with hers just for a second ... long enough for the divine magnetism of his great love to pa.s.s from him to her.
She seized hold of his hand, for in that one magnetic touch she had recognised him. Her heart gave a great leap of joy, the joy of being near him once more, of again feeling the tender, grey eyes resting with pa.s.sionate longing on her face. But she uttered neither cry nor word, for it was a great, silent and G.o.dlike moment-when at last she understood.
He had stooped still lower and rested his burning lips upon her cool fingers, and upon the rose which she had worn at her breast.
Neither of them spoke, for their hearts were in perfect unison, their whole being thrilled with the wild, jubilant echo of a divine hosanna, and around them the legions of G.o.d's angels made a rampart of snow-white wings, to shut out all the universe from them, leaving them alone with their love.
CHAPTER x.x.xIV
A LIFE FOR A LIFE
That moment was brief, as all such great and happy moments are.
But a few seconds had pa.s.sed since both her hands had rested in his, and he forgot the world in that one kiss upon her finger-tips.
The next instant a fast-approaching noise of hurrying footsteps, accompanied by much shouting, roused them from their dream.
Both through the back and the front door a crowd of excited soldiers had pushed their way into the inn, whilst the folk in the bar-parlour, attracted by the sudden noise, pressed out into the narrow pa.s.sage to see what was happening.
John Stich, foremost amongst these, made a rush for Patience's side.
She found herself suddenly pressed back towards the foot of the stairs, and face to face with a noisy group of village folk, through which the Sergeant and some half-dozen soldiers were roughly pus.h.i.+ng their way.
She looked round her, helpless and bewildered. Jack Bathurst had disappeared.
The whole thing had occurred in the brief s.p.a.ce of a few seconds, even before Patience had had time to realise that anything was amiss.
The narrow staircase, at the foot of which she now stood, led straight up to the private parlour, where Philip was even now awaiting her return.
”Out of the way, you rascals,” the Sergeant was shouting, whilst elbowing his way through the small group of gaping yokels, and pressing forward towards the stairs.
”Will your ladys.h.i.+p allow me the privilege of conducting you out of this crowd?” said a suave voice at Patience's elbow.
Sir Humphrey Challoner, closely followed by the obsequious Mittachip, had pushed his way into the inn, in the wake of the soldiers, and was now standing between her and the crowd, bowing very deferentially and offering her his arm, to conduct her upstairs.