all I do to help--to help Gerald?"
"Go straight into the house, and report to the guard. You were walking
in the garden for a breath of air, and overheard the struggle. They will
find him. Good-bye, Billie."
I held out my hand, and she extended her own without a moment's
hesitation.
"Good-bye," she said. "Shall I not wait here a few moments until you are
across the road?"
I touched my lips to her fingers.
"What, with Gerald lying there!" happily. "Oh, Billie, are you so
anxious as that for me to get safely away?"
"I--I am certainly not anxious to have you caught--not now. But you are
almost impertinent; indeed you are. I cannot say a word you do not
misinterpret. Please do not attempt to tease me; let us part friends."
The tone in which she said this meant far more than the mere words; I
had ventured enough, and recognized the limitation to her patience.
However strong her interest in me might already be, no acknowledgment
was probable under present circumstances. I would but waste time,
perhaps seriously injure my standing with her, were I to continue. The
future must be left to work out its own miracle--to reveal her heart,
and to prove the worthlessness of Le Gaire. For me to linger longer,
holding her there in constant peril of discovery, would be
simply madness.
I led the horse back, past where the disabled Confederate lay, pausing
an instant to look down on the dim figure. He groaned, and turned
partially over on one side, evidence that consciousness was returning.
The man was not badly hurt, and I felt no deep regret at his condition.
I could distinguish the narrow bridle path by my feet, and knew I would
be less conspicuous out of the saddle. However, nothing opposed our
progress, and we even succeeded in crossing the road without being
observed. Here a long slope, rutted, and partially covered with low
bushes, led directly down to the river, and we pushed through the
tangle, keeping well hidden. Once on the bank of the stream all above
was concealed from view, but I listened in vain for any sound indicative
of pursuit. The night was mysteriously still, unbroken, even the air
motionless. Obsessed now by the one controlling impulse to get away
safely, I drove the horse into the water, and as he reached swimming
depth, grasped a stirrup leather, and compelled him to strike out for
the opposite shore. It was not a hard struggle, nor were we long at it,
although the current was swift enough to bear
|