Only One Love, or Who Was the Heir Part 3

"Ay, Una," he said, "some of the old elms will fall to-night. Woodman Lightning strikes with a keen ax."

Suddenly there came another sound which, coming in an interval of comparative quiet, caused Una to look up with surprise.

"Halloa there! open the door."

Gideon sprang to his feet, his face pale with anger.

"Go to your room, Una," he said.

She rose and moved across the room to obey, but before she had pa.s.sed up the stairs the woodman had opened the door, and the voice came in from the outside, and she paused almost unconsciously.

"At last! What a time you have been! I've knocked loud enough to wake the dead. For Heaven's sake, open the door and let me in. I'm drenched to the skin."

"This is not an inn, young sir."

"No, or it would soon come to ruin with such a landlord. It's something with four walls and a roof, and I must be content with that. You don't mean to say that you won't let me come in?"

"I do not keep open house for travelers."

"Oh, come," exclaimed the young man, with a short laugh. "It's your own fault that I am back here; you told me the wrong turning. I'll swear I followed your directions. I must have been walking in a circle; anyhow I lost my way, and here I am, and, with all your churlishness, you can't refuse me shelter on such a night as this."

"The storm has cleared. It is but an hour's walk to Arkdale; I will go with you."

"That you certainly will not, to-night, nor any other man," was the good-humored retort. "I've had enough of your confounded forest for to-night. Why, man, are you afraid to let me in? It's a nasty thing to have to do, but----" and with a sudden thrust of his strong shoulder he forced the door open and pa.s.sed the threshold.

But the woodman recovered from the surprise in a moment and, seizing him by the throat, was forcing him out again, when, with a low cry, Una sprang forward and laid her hand on his arm.

At her touch Gideon's hands dropped to his side. The stranger sprang upright, but almost staggered out with discomfited astonishment.

For the first time in her life she stood face to face with a man other than a woodman or a charcoal-burner. And as she looked her heart almost stopped beating, the color died slowly from her face. Was it real, or was it one of the visionary heroes of her books created into life from her own dreaming brain?

With parted lips she waited, half longing, half dreading, to hear him speak.

It seemed ages before he found his voice, but at last, with a sudden little shake of the head, as if he were, as he would have expressed it, "pulling himself together," he took off his wide hat and slowly turned his eyes from the beautiful face of the girl to the stern and now set face of the woodman.

"Why didn't you tell me that you had a lady--ladies with you?" half angrily, half apologetically. Then he turned quickly, impulsively, to Una. "I hope you will forgive me. I had no idea that there was anyone here excepting himself. Of course I would rather have got into the first ditch than have disturbed you. I hope, I do hope you believe that, though I can't hope you'll forgive me. Good-night," and inclining his head he turned to the door.

Una, who had listened with an intent, rapt look on her face, as one sees a blind man listen to music, drew a little breath of regret as he ceased speaking, and then, with a little, quick gesture, laid her hand on her father's arm.

It was an imploring touch. It said as plainly as if she had spoken:

"Do not let him go."

"Having forced your way into my house you--may remain."

"Thanks. I should not think of doing so. Good-night."

"No; you must not go. He does not mean it. You have made him angry.

Please do not go!"

The young man hesitated, and the woodman, with a gesture that was one of resigned despair, shut the door.

Then he turned and pointed to the next room.

"There's a fire there," he said.

"I'd rather be out in the wood by far," he said, "than be here feeling that I have made a nuisance of myself. I'd better go."

But Gideon Rolfe led the way into the next room, and after another look from Mrs. Rolfe to Una, the young man followed.

Una stood in the center of the room looking at the door behind which he had disappeared, like one in a dream. Then she turned to Mrs. Rolfe.

"Shall I go, mother?"

"Yes. No. Wait till your father comes in."

After the lapse of ten minutes the woodman and the woodman's guest re-entered. The latter had exchanged his wet clothes for a suit of Gideon's, which, though it was well-worn velveteen, failed to conceal the high-bred air of its present wearer.

Meanwhile Mrs. Rolfe had been busily spreading the remains of the supper.

"'Tis but plain fare, sir," she said; "but you are heartily welcome."

"Thanks. It looks like a banquet to me," he added, with the short laugh which seemed peculiar to him. "I haven't tasted food, as tramps say, since morning."

"Dear! dear!" exclaimed the wife.

Una, calling up a long line of heroes, thought first of Ivanhoe, then--and with a feeling of satisfaction--of Hotspur.

Figure matched face. Though but twenty-two, the frame was that of a trained athlete--stalwart, straight-limbed, muscular; and with all combined a grace which comes only with birth and breeding.

Wet and draggled, he looked every inch a gentleman--in Gideon's suit of worn velveteen he looked one still.

Silent and motionless, Una watched him.

"Yes," he said, "I got some lunch at the inn--'Spotted Boar' at Wermesley--about one o'clock, I suppose. I have never felt so hungry in my life."

"Wermesley?" said the wife. "Then you came from----"

"London, originally. I got out at Wermesley, meaning to walk to Arkdale; but that appears to be easier said than done, eh?"

Gideon did not answer; he seemed scarcely to hear.

"I can't think how I missed the way," he went on. "I found the charcoal burner's hut, and hurried off to the left----"

"To the right, I said," muttered Gideon.

"Right, did you? Then I misunderstood you. Anyhow, I lost the right path, and wandered about until I came back to this cottage."