Paddy The Next Best Thing Part 48

"You must be getting cramped," he said. "Let me try and make you more comfortable."

She let him help her to her feet, and afterward try to find a new position. While doing so, he paused a moment and seemed to be hesitating. Then he bent toward her and said very quietly:

"If you would lean on me, Paddy, I could keep you so warm and comfortable."

He waited for her to speak.

"I would rather not," she answered, in a low, strained voice, and he said no more about it.

Presently, however, when she seemed to be settled as comfortably as circ.u.mstances would permit, he asked: "Would you rather I left you, and tried to get down the mountain to fetch help?"

She caught her breath with a queer little gulp, and he leaned lower to catch her answer.

"I don't want to bother you, Paddy, and I'm not afraid. I will go and try, if you would rather."

Still there was no answer. Paddy was wrestling between a wish for him to stay and a feeling that, to be true to herself, she ought to tell him to go.

Lawrence stood upright and looked down at her a few moments in silence.

At last he spoke again, and there was a suggestion of pain in his voice:

"I won't worry you, Paddy, if you'll let me stay. I--I would much rather not leave you here alone." He leaned down. "What shall I do, Paddy?"

"Don't go," she said in a low voice he could only just distinguish, but his face brightened all over instantly, as he turned away to busy himself again with the fire, afterward taking up his stand once more on the far side from her.

CHAPTER THIRTY SIX.

THE RESCUE.

Meanwhile the little ladies at the Parsonage looked anxiously out into the fog, and wondered that Paddy should have gone to Mourne Lodge on such a night.

"I suppose they will keep her until to-morrow," Miss Jane remarked; "but I am rather sorry she went. It is just the weather to take cold."

And at Mourne Lodge Mrs Blake said: "How odd of Lawrence to stay at the Parsonage so late. Did you say he went home with Paddy, Doreen?"

Doreen looked worried, but she only replied:

"Yes; he said he should not be late."

Another half-hour pa.s.sed, and then Mrs Blake asked; "What made him go home with Paddy at all, Doreen?"

Doreen was now fidgeting nervously, glancing constantly at the clock, and at last she decided to tell her mother exactly what had pa.s.sed.

Almost before she had finished, Mrs Blake was out in the hall peremptorily ordering one of the stable-boys to be sent for at once, and she waited at the open door until he came.

"Take a bicycle," she cried, in the same decisive manner, "and ride as hard as you can to Omeath Parsonage. Go to the back door, and, without making any noise, find out from the servants if Mr Lawrence has been there this evening. If he is there it is all right! but if not, come back here as quickly as possible, and tell them not to let the Misses O'Hara know that you came. Do you understand?"

"Yes, m'm," and in two seconds the boy was gone.

Another anxious half-hour pa.s.sed, during the whole of which Mrs Blake paced the drawing-room, quite unable to sit still a moment. When she heard a step on the gravel, she hurried instantly to the front door.

"Is he there?" she asked, quite unable to conceal her anxiety.

"No, m'm--he has not been there at all, and they all think Miss Adair is here. I told them not to say anything, but cook is so anxious she is coming here on foot now."

Mrs Blake blanched a death-like hue, but never for an instant lost her head.

"Rouse George at once," she exclaimed, naming the head coachman, who had been with them for years, "and tell him not to lose a second in coming here. Stay--tell him Mr Lawrence and Miss Adair are lost on the mountains, and he must get a search party at once; then come to me."

The boy rushed off, and she turned quickly to the housekeeper, now anxiously waiting near.

"Blankets, Mrs Best," with almost unnatural calmness, "and a flask of brandy, and candles for the lanterns. There is nothing else we can prepare. I think."

George had gone to bed, which made it only the more incredible how he got up and got his party together in the short s.p.a.ce before he was at the hall door; but there they stood, four alert men, with poles and lanterns, perfectly ready to risk their lives at a moment's notice for the master and Miss Adair. Mrs Blake explained in a few short sentences what had occurred and which way they had better take, but it was only at the very last she faltered.

"Don't come back without them, George," she said, in a low, husky voice, to the faithful old servant, and, with a like huskiness in his own throat, he answered:

"I will not, m'm."

Then commenced another terrible watch for the mother and her two daughters, when each tried in vain to frame words that might help the others.

There was nothing for it but to endure in silence and continue that restless pacing to and fro. At twelve o'clock the housekeeper came in with hot cocoa and biscuits, but all turned away at once. Mrs Best was another old and privileged servant, however, so she would take no refusal.

"Shure, 'tis no good gettin' fainting," she said, trying to speak cheerily. "Indeed, m'm, it's meeself will have to give it ye if ye won't take it." And then they tried to drink the cocoa to please her.

"There's Eliza downstairs," she continued. "About as much use as a child, rocking to and fro under her ap.r.o.n and moaning about little Miss Paddy, and what a wonderful baby she was, as if that would do any one any good. Relating all the mischief she used to be up to in one breath, and what a sainted angel she is in the next."

"Poor Eliza," said Mrs Blake, with a smile. "She is a faithful old soul. To think of her walking all this way from Omeath upon such a night!"

Still the time crept on and no footsteps sounded on the gravel, and away up the mountain Lawrence tended his little fire and began to look round anxiously for the fuel which was fast dwindling away. From time to time he stepped out into the fog and shouted, but sound could scarcely pierce the dense air, and he knew he would not be heard any distance away.

Each time when he stepped out Paddy raised her head and watched him, instead of continuing her gaze at the flickering fire, but the last time he noticed that she did not stir.

He bent down over her and said her name softly, but there was no answer, and he saw that, worn out with exhaustion, she had fallen into a troubled sleep. For a few moments he was at his wits' end to know what to do for the best. The fire could not be kept going much longer, and meanwhile the damp cold increased hourly. Should he rouse her and try to make the descent? Which course was the least dangerous?--to crouch in the cold, damp shelter, or try and pierce the black gloom of the night? He looked at the sleeping form a moment, and then made up his mind. In such a strait, all things must be disregarded except whatever might diminish the danger. Whereupon, having come to a decision, he immediately set about carrying it out to the exclusion of all else.

First he hunted round for every sc.r.a.p of possible fuel and made up the fire; then, very tenderly and gently, he gathered Paddy into his arms, as if she had been a child and soothed her into a deep, dreamless slumber.

How long they remained thus he did not know. Paddy never stirred after the first half-unconscious resistance, but just slept on in the calmest, childlike sleep, and rather than disturb her he kept the same position, regardless of the severe cramp that seized him first in one limb and then another.

The only movement he made was to bend occasionally and touch her hair with his lips, but, apart from this, the fire went out and they remained in absolute silence and stillness--Paddy kept warm and comfortable and soothed into a restful slumber, while he sat upright, without even a coat, numbed with the damp and cold and a martyr to cramp.

Only what of it? While she lay in his arms, and every nerve of his body was strained in serving her, could he ask more? Lawrence looked out into the awful gloom, felt the creeping cold through all his bones and the sharp, shooting pains in his limbs, and was content. Of a truth he was not a man to do his loving by halves when it was real.

But human nature is not infallible, and it is doubtful if he could have endured much longer by the time a vague sound over the mountain fell on his ear. He raised his head and listened intently.

Yes--there it was again--a shout! Good G.o.d! some one was coming to them. With the utmost gentleness he managed to disengage himself and then struggle to his feet, but only to collapse ignominiously on to the ground, overcome by cramp through his whole body. He made another effort, and dragged himself up by the wall; then, still clinging to it, shouted with all his might.

Instantly rang back an answering shout, and within five minutes the little search party stood in the tumbled-down shelter, almost too overjoyed for words.

Old George gripped his young master's hand and the tears rained down his face.

"We were losing heart," he said. "We were almost giving you up, but I'd never have gone back to face the mistress without you."