The White Gauntlet Part 60

On putting this question, she approached a little nearer to the sentry-- as she did so, drawing her jewelled hand within the cloak, and letting the hood fall back from her head. Her beautiful face would have been visible, but for the absence of light; and trusting to this, she had no fear of being recognised.

"Withers, madame! William Withers; that be my name, at your service."

"Thanks, Master Withers, for saying so: since in truth I want you to do me a service."

"Name it, fair lady!" gallantly challenged the young cuira.s.sier.

"You are on guard over a prisoner. I need not say who that prisoner is: since I believe there is but one. I want to see him. 'Tis on very important business."

"Oh! I understand," said Withers, looking superlatively wise.

"I want only a word with him. You can give me the opportunity?"

"Certain I can," replied the sentry, "if you think it be necessary for you to see him _yourself_."

"Oh! sir--it is necessary!"

"Well, I didn't know that. I thought the message you sent by the girl would be sufficient. _She's_ been, and seen him, and gone again. You han't met her, then, I suppose?"

"Met her! Whom?"

"Why the young girl you sent to speak with him inside."

"I--I--sent no one."

These monosyllabic words were p.r.o.nounced with a choking utterance, that betrayed something more than surprise.

"O-ah!" muttered the sentry to himself, "there's another, then, as has private business with my prisoner. Hang this Holtspur! All the fine ladies in the land appear to be runnin' after him. Well; I won't make fish o' one and flesh o' 'tother. This un shall have her chance as well as the one that sent Betsey; and since she's come herself, instead of doing the thing by deputy, she desarves to have at least as good an opportunity as the tother. Fair play in love as well as in war--that be Will Withers' way o' thinking."

"I say Mistress," continued he, once more addressing himself to the lady. "I have no objection to your going inside a minute--if ye promise me not to make it long."

"Oh! I promise it good Withers! You shall not go unrewarded. Take this in return for your generous kindness."

At these words, the jewelled hand reappeared outside the foldings of the velvet--this time with its palm held upward. Another gleam just then illuminated the atmosphere--enabling the sentry to perceive the bounteous bribe that was offered to him. The outspread palm was covered with coins--as many as could lie upon it. Surely it was not the electric light that had given to them their yellow tint? No. Withers could not be mistaken. The coins were gold!

Without saying a word, he stretched out his own large paw till it touched the delicate fingers of the lady; and then, permitting the pieces of gold to slip into his palm, he quickly transferred them to his pocket.

"Your hand, Mistress, for another purpose," said he, holding out his own to take it; and as the trembling fingers were deposited within his, he stepped sideways inside the wicket, leading the lady after him.

In this fas.h.i.+on, they traversed the dark archway--until they had reached the entrance to the store-room.

There stopping, the sentry once more turned the key in the lock; and, as before, pushed the door partially open.

"Ho! master!" said he, again directing his voice into the room, but without going in himself; "here's another feminine come to speak with you; and I beg you won't be so long about it, as you were before. Now, Mistress; go in! You'll find the gentleman inside."

So saying he handed the lady over the threshold; closed and locked the door behind her; and walked back towards the wicket--partly to see whether Bet Dancey might not still be lingering outside; but also with the idea of submitting his treasure to the test of another flash of the lightning: in order to a.s.sure himself that the coins were gold!

It is scarce necessary to say, that the second visitor to the cell of the imprisoned patriot, was Marion Wade. That will have been guessed already.

Had the lamp remained, where the sentry had first set it, the daughter of Sir Marmaduke could not have been two seconds within the store-room, without discovering who was its occupant. As it was, a short interval elapsed before she became aware of the strange transformation that had taken place in the _personnel_ of the prison.

On hearing the key grating in the lock, the subst.i.tute of Henry Holtspur--believing it to be a visit of inspection on the part of the guard corporal--or some similar intrusion--had suddenly s.n.a.t.c.hed the lamp from off the stool, and placed it in a less conspicuous position-- behind some lumber in a corner of the room.

The result was to make that portion occupied by herself, almost as obscure as if no light was in the place; and, the girl, who had glided back to the bench, and taken her seat upon it, might without close scrutiny have been taken for a man--for Henry Holtspur.

And for him was she for a time mistaken. It was under this belief, that Marion made that timid and trembling approach; and this it was that caused her voice to quiver, as she faltered forth his name.

The voice that spoke in response, at once dispelled the illusion. It was not that of Henry Holtspur--which would have been known to Marion Wade, despite the obscurity that surrounded her. It was not the voice of any man. It was a woman's!

Before the lady could recover from her surprise, the form of a woman-- tall as her own--was seen rising erect from the bench; then stepping forth from the shadowed side of the room until the face was conspicuously displayed under the light of the lamp.

Marion Wade recognised that countenance, as one that had often--too often--disturbed her dreams. It was Bet Dancey who was thus unexpectedly confronting her!

The short, sharp scream that escaped from the lips of the lady, expressed an emotion stronger than surprise. It comprehended that, and far more. She who had uttered it, comprehended all!

This was the girl who had been sent to speak with the prisoner! Who sent her? No one. She had come on her own errand. _She_ had come, and _he_ was gone! She had rescued him, by remaining in his place!

These thoughts followed one another so rapidly, as to be almost simultaneous. They had all pa.s.sed through the mind of Marion Wade, before a word was exchanged between herself and the individual who stood before her.

The latter, with equally quick comprehension, interpreted the presence of the lady in that apartment. She had come in the same cause as herself; though too late for a like success. Not a doubt had Bet Dancey that she in the dark velvet cloak had entered that room with the design of releasing the prisoner--in the same manner as she had herself done scarce five minutes before.

She well knew who was her compet.i.tor in this self-sacrificing game. If the black hair and dark flas.h.i.+ng orbs of d.i.c.k Dancey's daughter had disturbed the dreams of Marion Wade, so too had the golden tresses and blue beaming eyes of Sir Marmaduke's, more than once, rendered uneasy the slumbers of the forest maiden. The understanding was mutual. In her own thoughts each found a key to the actions of the other.

The rivals stood face to face--Marion shrinking, chagrined--Betsy unabashed, triumphant.

There was an interval of embarra.s.sing silence. It was brought to an end by the girl; otherwise it might have remained unbroken, as the lady was turning to leave the room in silence.

"You've named the name of Henry Holtspur? He's not here, Mistress Marion Wade."

"I can perceive that without your a.s.sistance," answered the proud daughter of Sir Marmaduke--who perhaps would not have deigned a reply, had she not been piqued by the tone of the interrogator.

"You expected to find him, didn't you?"

Marion hesitated to make reply.

"Of course you did; else why should you have come here? You intended to set him free; but you're too late Mistress Wade. Master Holtspur has friends who think as much of him as you--perhaps more. One of them, you see, has been before you?"

"You mean yourself?"

Marion was constrained to put this question, by a thought that had suddenly occurred to her. She remembered the words of the sentry, who had spoken of "a girl having been _sent_ by a lady."

After all, was Bet Dancey only a messenger? And was there a real rival--one of her own rank--in the back ground?

Such a belief would to some extent have been consolatory to the heart of the questioner. But even this slight hope was crushed, by the reply to her interrogatory.

"A strange question that, Mistress Marion Wade? You see me here? You see I have risked my life to save _his_? Do you think I would do that for another? No--not for the queen herself--who I've heard likes him as much, as either you or me?"

"There's not much risk," replied Marion becoming irritated in spite of herself, at the insolent tone of her rustic rival. "To you I should think, not much risk of anything."