A Double Knot Part 85

"Hus.h.!.+" he cried, as she stood before him flushed with her indignation; "what do you know of love?"

"That there is no such thing, if it is to bring shame and disgrace on a weak woman, and death and dishonour upon a good, confiding man. Oh, where is G.o.d, that He does not strike you dead for even thinking such a cruel wrong!--Marie, Marie, you shall not go!"

For as she spoke in the anger and bitterness of her heart, the door opened, and, veiled and in a large black cloak, Marie glided in, to shrink cowering away in horror and shame, holding up her hands to keep Ruth off, but in vain, for the girl flung her arms round her, and then turned her head, so as to face Glen.

"You here, Ruth!"

"Yes, to save you from this shame. Oh, Marie, think of dear Lord Henry!" she cried pa.s.sionately; "think of the disgrace, the horror and remorse to come!"

"I have thought till I can think no more," moaned Marie. "Oh, Ruth, Ruth, why did you come?"

"In heaven's name, yes! Why did you come?" cried Glen fiercely, as he tried to tear the couple apart.

"No; keep off!" cried Ruth. "I have told you why: because I would not stand by and be a witness of this shame."

"But, Ruth, you do not know; you cannot tell. It is too late now."

"I tell you it is not too late!"

"Yes, my child, it is," said a low, soft voice; and there stood Paul Montaigne, with his calm aspect and bland smile. "It is too late; the step is taken by you, Ruth, as well as by Marie here. Captain Glen, I will see that Miss Allerton comes to no harm."

"By what right do you intrude?" cried Glen hotly.

"The right of an old protector of these ladies," said Montaigne, smiling. "There, do not be angry, my dear sir. I come as a friend.

Their interests have been mine for so many years that I, knowing something of the tender pa.s.sion myself, can sympathise with all. Mind, I do not counsel flight, and if I had been consulted I should not have hesitated to stop you; but as you have taken the irrevocable step, all I can say is--go, get the divorce over as soon as possible, and then I insist upon your marrying my darling ward."

"Of course, of course!" cried Glen angrily. "Marie, my love," he whispered, "come."

"No, no!" cried Ruth, interposing, and clinging to her cousin's arm.

"Marie dear, you will come back?"

Marie looked at her in a piteously helpless fas.h.i.+on, and shook her head.

"My dearest Ruth," said Montaigne, "your interference is ill-timed. You are fighting against fate. Come, come! I know it seems very dreadful to you, but you must let matters have their course."

He advanced to take her hand, but she shrank from him with horror.

"No, no!" she cried. "Why do not you interfere?"

"Captain Glen, your train must be nearly due."

"And Ruth?" said Glen, hesitating. "Will you see her back?"

"Hardly," said Montaigne, smiling. "She cannot return there; but you can rest content if she is under my charge. Recollect, sir, I have known her almost from a child."

"Mr Montaigne is right; you are fighting against the irrevocable. The step is taken, and Marie cannot return. Now, for all our sakes, pray go!"

"With Mr Montaigne?" cried Ruth excitedly. "No; I will not go; and I will not leave Marie!"

"Then, in heaven's name, go with us!"

"No!" said Montaigne fiercely; "Ruth goes with me!"

"Marcus Glen--Marie--I claim your protection from this man!" cried Ruth excitedly.

"Then you shall come!" cried Glen. "Marie, be firm," he whispered.

"Now, Mr Montaigne--you hear Miss Allerton's decision; stand aside!"

"Miss Allerton stays with me!" said Montaigne firmly; and, in place of giving way, he stepped forward, and an angry collision seemed imminent, when the door was once more thrown open, and Lord Henry Moorpark, looking blanched and old, came into the room.

Ruth had gained her end.

Volume 3, Chapter XV.

FACE TO FACE.

John Huish's brain was still confused. At times he was ready to give way to the idea that he must be quite mad, and at such times he had a dire mental struggle to master the wild rush of thoughts so that he might get one uppermost and let it have due course--that one wild idea that he must bring himself face to face with the fiend who mocked his existence, had tortured him for years, and who lived in his semblance; and he felt in nowise surprised, as he pa.s.sed down the road, at seeing himself, dressed exactly as he then was, turn suddenly out of a side-street and walk rapidly towards the house he had just left.

"At last!" he said beneath his breath; and he drew back into a garden to avoid being seen.

He was in nowise surprised either, as, with the cunning of a madman, he watched till his semblance went straight up to the house and knocked; and, feeling that he would enter, Huish stole slowly out of his hiding-place and followed.

"Trapped!" he said in a low voice. "Only room for one of us in this little world."

His teeth grated together, his fingers were tightly clenched, and he crept on towards the gateway of his house, hidden by the tall privet hedge within the railings, and reached the entry just as his semblance came back from the door frowning and savage with disappointment at the result of his quest of her who had disappeared just as he had triumphed in his heart over a long-cherished idea of revenge.

The two men were face to face; and with a cry of savage delight John Huish sprang at his semblance's throat, but to be met by a blinding flash and a tremendous blow, which sent him staggering back, clutching vainly at the railings before he fell upon the pavement and rolled over and over half stunned.

He sprang to his feet, though, and gnashed his teeth with rage as he looked up and down and saw that a couple of the very few people about, alarmed by the shot, were coming to his a.s.sistance, but him he sought was gone.

Before anyone could reach him, John Huish had started off running hard to the bottom of the road, chancing which way the man he hunted had gone, and was just in time to see him enter a hansom, to be rapidly driven off.

Running pretty quickly, he became aware that he was exciting attention, and, remembering his appearance, he subsided into a slower pace, for another cab was on ahead, and he hailed it just in time.

"Follow that hansom!" he cried to the man as he leaped in. "Double fare."

The horse sprang forward, and to his great satisfaction he saw that he gained upon the fugitive, so he sat back patiently waiting, with the determination now to hunt him down.

Mad or sane, there was but one thought still in John Huish's brain, and that was to get this fiend, this haunting demon, by the throat. Whether he was human or some strange creature from another world, he had ceased now to speculate; his head had been troubled with too much stress. All he felt was that they two could not exist together upon earth: that was his evil half, and he must kill it.

Once or twice a thrill of mad rage made his nerves tingle, for he seemed to see Gertrude resting lovingly in that other's arms, responding to his caresses, smiling in his face, and blessing him with her love; and at such moments his brain whirled like one of the wheels by his side.

The sight of the cab in front drove these thoughts away, though, and, clenching his teeth, he shook his head as if to clear his brain for the one object in view.

And now, for the first time, he became aware of a strange pain, and of something warm trickling down beside his ear, and putting up his hand, he withdrew it covered with blood.

"He could not kill me," he muttered, taking out his handkerchief and applying it to where the bullet had struck the top of his head and glanced off, making a deep cut which bled freely.

He did not know it then, but it was the one thing for which he had reason to thank the man he pursued. Though sent with a mission to destroy, it was the saving of his life.