A pause. One of the party dropped some weapon, which rang on the stone causeway. At this sound the rectory dog barked again furiously – fiercely.
“That spoils all!” said the voice. “He’ll awake. A noise like that might rouse the dead. You did not say there was a dog. Damn you! Forward!”
Forward they went – tramp, tramp – with mustering, manifold, slow-filing tread. They were gone.
Shirley stood erect, looked over the wall, along the road.
“Not a soul remains,” she said.
She stood and mused. “Thank God!” was the next observation.
Caroline repeated the ejaculation – not in so steady a tone. She was trembling much. Her heart was beating fast and thick; her face was cold, her forehead damp.
“Thank God for us!” she reiterated. “But what will happen elsewhere? They have passed us by that they may make sure of others.”
“They have done well,” returned Shirley, with composure. “The others will defend themselves. They can do it. They are prepared for them. With us it is otherwise. My finger was on the trigger of this pistol. I was quite ready to give that man, if he had entered, such a greeting as he little calculated on; but behind him followed three hundred. I had neither three hundred hands nor three hundred weapons. I could not have effectually protected either you, myself, or the two poor women asleep under that roof. Therefore I again earnestly thank God for insult and peril escaped.”
After a second pause she continued: “What is it my duty and wisdom to do next? Not to stay here inactive, I am glad to say, but, of course, to walk over to the Hollow.”
“To the Hollow, Shirley?”
“To the Hollow. Will you go with me?”
“Where those men are gone?”
“They have taken the highway; we should not encounter them. The road over the fields is as safe, silent, and solitary as a path through the air would be. Will you go?”
“Yes,” was the answer, given mechanically, not because the speaker wished or was prepared to go, or, indeed, was otherwise than scared at the prospect of going, but because she felt she could not abandon Shirley.
“Then we must fasten up these windows, and leave all as secure as we can behind us. Do you know what we are going for, Cary?”
“Yes – no – because you wish it.”
“Is that all? And are you so obedient to a mere caprice of mine? What a docile wife you would make to a stern husband! The moon’s face is not whiter than yours at this moment, and the aspen at the gate does not tremble more than your busy fingers; and so, tractable and terror-struck, and dismayed and devoted, you would follow me into the thick of real danger! Cary, let me give your fidelity a motive. We are going for Moore’s sake – to see if we can be of use to him, to make an effort to warn him of what is coming.”
“To be sure! I am a blind, weak fool, and you are acute and sensible, Shirley. I will go with you; I will gladly go with you!”
“I do not doubt it. You would die blindly and meekly for me, but you would intelligently and gladly die for Moore. But, in truth, there is no question of death tonight; we run no risk at all.”
Caroline rapidly closed shutter and lattice. “Do not fear that I shall not have breath to run as fast as you can possibly run, Shirley. Take my hand. Let us go straight across the fields.”
“But you cannot climb walls?”
“Tonight I can.”
“You are afraid of hedges, and the beck which we shall be forced to cross?”
“I can cross it.”
They started; they ran. Many a wall checked but did not baffle them. Shirley was surefooted and agile; she could spring like a deer when she chose. Caroline, more timid and less dexterous, fell once or twice, and bruised herself; but she rose again directly, saying she was not hurt. A quickset hedge bounded the last field; they lost time in seeking a gap in it. The aperture, when found, was narrow, but they worked their way through. The long hair, the tender skin, the silks and the muslins suffered; but what was chiefly regretted was the impediment this difficulty had caused to speed. On the other side they met the beck, flowing deep in a rough bed. At this point a narrow plank formed the only bridge across it. Shirley had trodden the plank successfully and fearlessly many a time before; Caroline had never yet dared to risk the transit.
“I will carry you across,” said Miss Keeldar. “You are light, and I am not weak. Let me try.”
“If I fall in, you may fish me out,” was the answer, as a grateful squeeze compressed her hand. Caroline, without pausing, trod forward on the trembling plank as if it were a continuation of the firm turf. Shirley, who followed, did not cross it more resolutely or safely. In their present humour, on their present errand, a strong and foaming channel would have been a barrier to neither. At the moment they were above the control either of fire or water. All Stilbro’ Moor, alight and aglow with bonfires, would not have stopped them, nor would Calder or Aire thundering in flood. Yet one sound made them pause. Scarce had they set foot on the solid opposite bank when a shot split the air from the north. One second elapsed. Further off burst a like note in the south. Within the space of three minutes similar signals boomed in the east and west.
“I thought we were dead at the first explosion,” observed Shirley, drawing a long breath. “I felt myself hit in the temples, and I concluded your heart was pierced; but the reiterated voice was an explanation. Those are signals – it is their way – the attack must be near. We should have had wings. Our feet have not borne us swiftly enough.”
A portion of the copse was now to clear. When they emerged from it the mill lay just below them. They could look down upon the buildings, the yard; they could see the road beyond. And the first glance in that direction told Shirley she was right in her conjecture. They were already too late to give warning. It had taken more time than they calculated on to overcome the various obstacles which embarrassed the short cut across the fields.
The road, which should have been white, was dark with a moving mass. The rioters were assembled in front of the closed yard gates, and a single figure stood within, apparently addressing them. The mill itself was perfectly black and still. There was neither life, light, nor motion around it.
“Surely he is prepared. Surely that is not Moore meeting them alone?” whispered Shirley.
“It is. We must go to him. I will go to him.”
“That you will not.”
“Why did I come, then? I came only for him. I shall join him.”
“Fortunately it is out of your power. There is no entrance to the yard.”
“There is a small entrance at the back, besides the gates in front. It opens by a secret method which I know. I will try it.”
“Not with my leave.”
Miss Keeldar clasped her round the waist with both arms and held her back. “Not one step shall you stir,” she went on authoritatively. “At this moment Moore would be both shocked and embarrassed if he saw either you or me. Men never want women near them in time of real danger.”
“I would not trouble – I would help him,” was the reply.
“How? – by inspiring him with heroism? Pooh! these are not the days of chivalry. It is not a tilt at a tournament we are going to behold, but a struggle about money, and food, and life.”
“It is natural that I should be at his side.”
“As queen of his heart? His mill is his lady-love, Cary! Backed by his factory and his frames, he has all the encouragement he wants or can know. It is not for love or beauty, but for ledger and broadcloth, he is going to break a spear. Don’t be sentimental; Robert is not so.”
“I could help him; I will seek him.”
“Off then – I let you go – seek Moore. You’ll not find him.”
She loosened her hold. Caroline sped like levelled shaft from bent bow; after her rang a jesting, gibing laugh. “Look well there is no mistake!” was the warning given.
But there was a mistake. Miss Helstone paused, hesitated, gazed. The figure had suddenly retreated from the gate, and was running back hastily to the mill.