CHAPTER XVII
IN THE VALLEY
When Sophia at last lowered her eyes, and with a sigh ofdisappointment turned to her companions--when she awoke, as it were,and saw how fast the dusk had gathered round them, and what stridestowards shutting them in night had made in those few minutes, she hadmuch ado to maintain her composure. Lady Betty, little more than achild, and but one remove from a child's fear of the dark, clung toher; the girl, though a natural high spirit forbade her to expose herfears, was fairly daunted by the gloom and eeriness of the scene.Pettitt seated on a step of the carriage, weeping at a word andshrieking on the least alarm, was worse than useless; while the men,now reduced to four, had withdrawn to a distance, whence their voices,subdued in earnest colloquy, came at intervals to her ears.
What was to be done? Surely something? Surely they were not going tosit there, perhaps through the whole night, doing nothing to helpthemselves, wholly depending on the success of the postboys? Thatcould not be; and impatiently Sophia summoned Watkyns. "Are we goingto do nothing," she asked sharply, "until they come back? Cannot oneof the grooms return the way we came? There was the man at themill--who warned us? He may know what to do. Send one of the servantsto him."
"I did ask the gentleman to go," Watkyns answered with a sniff ofcontempt, "or else to ride on with the postboys and guide them. He'sgot us into this scrape, begging your ladyship's pardon, and he oughtto get us out! But he's all for not separating; says that it isn'tsafe, and he won't leave the ladies. He'll do nothing. He's turnedkind of stupid like," the valet added with a snort of temper.
Sophia's lip curled. "Then let one of the grooms go," she said, "ifhe's afraid."
Watkyns hesitated. "Well, the truth is, my lady," he said, speakinglow, and looking warily behind him, "they are fuddled with drink, andthat's all about it. Where they got the stuff I don't know, but I'vesuspicions."
Sophia stared.
"I think I can guess what is in the gentleman's holsters," Watkynscontinued, nodding mysteriously. "And I've a notion they had a shareof it, when my back was turned. But why I cannot say. Only they arenot to be trusted. I'd go back myself, for it is well to have twostrings; and I could take one of their horses. But I don't like toleave you with him, my lady."
"With the gentleman?"
"Yes, my lady. Seeing he has given the men drink."
Sophia laughed in scorn. "You need not trouble yourself about him,"she said. "We are not afraid of him. Besides it is not as if I werealone. There are three of us. As to the house opposite, however,that's another matter."
He was off his guard. "Oh, there's no fear of that!" he said.
"No? But I thought you said there was."
"This side of the water, my lady--I mean," he answered hurriedly."There are stepping-stones you see a little above here; but they arecovered now, and the people can't come over."
"You are sure of that?"
"Quite sure, my lady."
"Then you had better go," Sophia said with decision. "We've had nothingto eat since midday, and we are half famished. We cannot stay here allnight."
Watkyns hesitated. "Your ladyship is right," he said, "it is not as ifyou were alone. And the moon will be up in an hour. Still, my lady, Idon't know as Sir Hervey would like me to leave you?"
But in the end he gave way and went; and was scarcely out of hearingbefore she was sorry that she had sent him, and would fain, had itbeen possible, have recalled him.
Still the darkness was not yet Egyptian; night had not yet completelyfallen. She could see the figures of Lane and the two servants, seateda score of paces away on a fallen thorn tree, to which they hadtethered their horses. She could dimly make out Lady Betty's face, asthe girl sat beside her in the carriage, getting what comfort shecould from squeezing her hand; and Pettitt's, who sat with them, forit would have been cruel to exclude her in her state of terror. Butthe knowledge that by-and-by she would lose all this, the knowledgethat by-and-by they must sit in that gloomy hollow, ignorant of whatwas passing near them, and at the mercy of the first comer, began tofill even Sophia with dread. She began to fear even Lane. Sheremembered that he had cause to dislike her; that he might harbourthoughts of revenge. If it were true that he had made the mendrunk----
"It's absurd," Lady Betty whispered, pressing her hand. "He would notdare! He's just a clothes peg! You're not afraid of him?"
"No," Sophia answered bravely, "I don't know that I am afraid of anyone. Only----"
"Only you wish you had not let Watkyns go?"
"Yes."
"So do I!" Lady Betty whispered eagerly. "But I did not like to sayso. I was afraid you would think me afraid. What I can't make out is,why some of the men don't go over and get help where the light is,instead of riding miles and miles for it."
"They seem to think that the people are not to be trusted."
"But why? What do they think that they are?" Lady Betty askednervously.
"I don't know! Watkyns said something of smugglers from Goudhurst."
"And how does he know?"
"From Lane, I suppose."
"Who brought us here, the little wretch! There!" Betty exclaimed,clutching her companion, "what is that? Oh, they have got a candle."
Lane had produced one from his holsters; the men had lighted it.By-and-by, he brought it to the carriage, shading it with his hat;with a sheepish air he prayed the ladies to make use of it. Sophiaadded distrust to her former contempt of him, and would have declinedthe gift; but Lady Betty's trembling hand prayed mutely for theindulgence, and she let him place it in the lanthorn in the carriage.It conferred a kind of protection; at least they could now see oneanother's faces.
She soon regretted her easiness, however, for instead of withdrawingwhen he had performed the office, Lane lingered beside the door. Heasked Lady Betty the time, he went away a little, returned, a flittingshadow on the fringe of light; finally he stood irresolute watchingthem, at a distance of a couple of yards. Sophia bore this as long asshe could; at last, out of patience, she asked him coldly if he hadnot another candle. It was now quite dark.
"No, my lady," he said humbly, "I've no other."
She wished that she had bitten her tongue off before she put thequestion, for now it appeared barbarous to send him into the darkness.He seemed, too, to see the advantage he had gained, and by-and-by heventured to take his seat on a log beside the carriage. He cast atimid look at Lady Betty, and heaved an audible sigh.
If he hoped to move that hard little heart by sighing, however, he wasmuch mistaken. Cheered by the light, Lady Betty was herself again.Sophia felt her begin to shake, and knew that in a moment the laugh,half hysterical, half mirthful, would break all bounds; and she soughtto save the situation. "Where are the men?" she said hurriedly. "Willyou be good enough to ask one of them to come to me?"
Lane rose, and went reluctantly; soon he came stumbling back into thecircle of light.
"I cannot find them," he stammered, standing by the carriage.
"Not find them?" Sophia answered, staring at him. "Are they notthere?"
"No, my lady," he returned, glancing nervously over his shoulder andback again. "At least I--I can't find them, ma'am. It is very dark.You don't think," he continued--and for the first time she discernedby the poor light of the candle that he was trembling, "that--thatthey can have fallen into the river?"
His tone alarmed her, even while she thought his fears preposterous."Fallen into the river?" she exclaimed contemptuously. "Nonsense, sir!Are you trying to frighten us?" And without waiting for an answer, sheraised her voice and called "George! George!"
No answer. She stepped quickly from the carriage. "Take me," she saidimperiously, "to where you left them."
Lady Betty protested; Pettitt clutched at her habit, begged her tostay. But Sophia persisted, and groped her way after Lane until hecame to a stand, his hand on the bark of the fallen blackthorn, besidewhich she had last seen the men. "They were here," he said, in the
tone of one half dazed. "They were. They were just here."
"Yes, I remember," she answered. And undeterred by Pettitt's franticappeals to her to return, she called the man again and again; stillshe got no answer.
At length, fear of she knew not what came on her, and shaken by thesilence of the valley through which her voice rang mournfully, shehurried back to the carriage, and sprang into it in a panic; the manLane following close at her elbow. It was only when she had taken herseat, and found him clutching the door of the carriage and pressing asnear as he could come, that she saw he was ashake with fear; that hiseyes were staring, his hair almost on end.
"They've fallen into the river," he cried wildly, his teethchattering. "I never thought of that! They have fallen in, and aredrowned!"
"Don't be a fool, man!" Sophia answered sharply. She was striving tokeep fear at bay, while Lady Betty awestricken, clung to her arm. "Weshould have heard a cry or something."
"They were drunk," he whispered. "They were drunk! And now they aredead! They are dead! Dead!"
Pettitt shrieked at the word; and Sophia, between fear and rage,uncertain whether he was frightened or was trying to frighten them,bade him be silent. "If you can do nothing, at least be still," shecried wrathfully. "You are worse than a woman. And do you, Pettitt,behave yourself. You should be taking care of your mistress, insteadof scaring her."
The man so far obeyed that he sank on the step of the carriage, andwas silent. But she heard him moan; and despite her courage sheshuddered. Fear is infectious; it was in vain she strove against theuneasy feelings communicated by his alarm. She caught herself lookingover her shoulder, starting at a sound; trembling when the candleflickered in the lanthorn or the feeble ring of light in which theysat, in that hollow of blackness, wavered or varied. By-and-by thecandle would go out; there was but an inch of it now. Then they wouldbe in the dark; three women and this craven, with the hidden riverrunning silent, bankful beside them, and she knew not what, prowling,hovering, groping at their backs.
On a sudden Lane sprang up. "What is that?" he cried, cowering againstthe door, and clutching it as if he would drag it open and forcehimself in among them. "See, what is it? What is it?"
But it was only the first shaft of light, shot by the rising moonthrough a notch in the hills, that had scared him. It struck the thorntree where the men had sat, and slowly the slender ray widened andgrew until all the upper valley through which they had come lay bathedin solemn radiance. Gradually it flooded the bottom, and dimmed theyellow, ineffectual light of their taper; at length only the ridgebeyond the water remained dark, pierced by the one brooding spark thatseemed to keep grave vigil in the hill of shadow.
The women breathed more freely; even Pettitt ceased to bewail herself."They will be back soon, with the horses," Sophia said, gazing withhopeful eyes into the darkness beyond the ford. "They must have leftus an hour and more."
"An hour?" Lady Betty answered with a shiver. "Three, I vow! But whatis the man doing?" she continued, directing Sophia's attention toLane. "I declare he's a greater coward than any of us!"
He was, if the fact that the light which had relieved their fears hadnot removed his stood for anything. He seemed afraid to move a yardfrom them; yet he seldom looked at them, save when a gust of terrorshook him, and he turned as if to grip their garments. His hand on thedoor of the carriage, he gazed now along the valley down which theyhad come, now towards the solitary light beyond the stream; and it wasimpossible to say which prospect alarmed him the more. Sophia, whomhis restlessness filled with apprehension, noticed that he listened;and that more than once, when Lady Betty spoke or Pettitt complained,he raised his hand, as if he took the interruption ill. And the longershe watched him, the more she was infected with his uneasiness.
On a sudden he turned to her. "Do you hear anything?" he asked.
She listened. "No," she answered, "I hear nothing but the wind passingthrough the trees."
"Not horses?"
She listened again, inclining her head to catch any sound that mightcome from the other side of the stream. "No," she replied, "I don't."
He touched her shoulder. "Not that way!" he exclaimed. "Not that way!Behind us!"
Suddenly Lady Betty spoke. "I do!" she said. "But they are a long wayoff. It's Watkyns coming back. He must have found horses, for I hearmore than one!"
"It's not Watkyns!" Lane answered and he took two steps from thecarriage, then came back. "Get out!" he cried hoarsely. "Do you hear?Get out! Or don't say I didn't warn you. Do you hear?" he repeated,when no one stirred; for Sophia, her worst suspicions confirmed, wasspeechless with surprise, and the others cowered in their places,thinking him gone mad. "Get out, get out, and hide if you can. Theyare coming!" he continued wildly. "I tell you they are coming. And itis off my shoulders. In ten minutes they'll be here, and if you're nothidden, it'll be the worse for you. I've told you!"
"Who are coming!" Sophia said, her lips forming the words withdifficulty.
"Hawkesworth!" he answered. "Hawkesworth! He and two more, as bigdevils as himself. If you don't want to be robbed and worse, hide,hide! Do you hear me?" he continued, pulling frantically at Sophia'shabit. "I've told you! I've done all I can! It's not on my head!"
For an instant she sat, turned to stone; deaf to the cries, to theprayers, to the lamentations of the others. Hawkesworth? The mere nameof him, with whom she had once fancied herself in love, whom now shefeared and loathed, as she feared and loathed no other man, stoppedthe current of her blood. "Hawkesworth," she whispered, "Hawkesworth?Here? Following us? Do you mean it?"
"Haven't I told you?" Lane answered with angry energy. "He was atGrinstead, at the White Lion, last night. I saw him, and--and thewoman. You'd made me mad, you know, and--and they tempted me! Theytempted me!" he whined. "And they're coming. Can't you hear them now?They are coming!"
Yes, she could hear them now. In the far distance up the valley thesteady fall of horses' hoofs broke the night silence. Steadily,steadily, the hoof-beats drew nearer and nearer. Now they were hushed;the riders were crossing a spongy bit, where a spring soaked theroad--Sophia could remember the very place. Now the sound rose louder,nearer, more fateful. Trot-trot, trot-trot, trot-trot! Yes, they werecoming. They were coming! In five minutes, in ten minutes at most theywould be here!
It was a crisis to try the bravest. Round them the moonlight floodedthe low wide mouth of the valley. As far as the eye reached, all wasbare and shelterless. A few scattered thorn trees, standing singly andapart, mocked the eye with a promise of safety, which a second glanceshowed to be futile. The only salient object was the carriage strandedbeside the ford, a huge dark blot, betraying their presence to eyes afurlong away. Yet if they left its shelter, whither were they to turn,where to hide themselves? Sophia, her heart beating as if it wouldsuffocate her, tried to think, tried to remember; while Lady Bettyclung to her convulsively, asking what they were to do, and Pettitt,utterly overcome, sobbed at the bottom of the carriage, as if she weresafer there.
And all the time the tramp of the approaching horses, borne on thenight breeze, came clearer and sharper, clearer and sharper to theear; until she could distinguish the ring of bit and bridle asthe men descended the valley. She looked at Lane. The craven waspanic-stricken, caught hither and thither, by gusts of cowardice;there was no help there. Her eye passed to the river, and her heartleapt, for in the shadowed bank on the other side she read hope and achance. There in the darkness they could hide; there--if only theycould find the stepping-stones which Watkyns had said were upstream.
Quick as thought she had Lady Betty out, and seizing her woman by theshoulder, shook her impatiently. "Come," she cried, "come, we mustrun. We must run! Come, or we shall leave you."
But Pettitt only grovelled lower on the floor, deaf to prayers,orders, threats. At last, "We must leave her," Sophia cried, when shehad wasted a precious minute in vain appeals. "Come! We must find thestepping-stones. It is the only chance."
"But is the danger--so great?" the child pant
ed.
"It's--oh, come! Come!" Sophia groaned. "You don't understand." Andseizing Lady Betty by the hand she ran with her to the water's edge,and in breathless haste turned up the stream. They had gone twentyyards along the bank, the elder's eyes searching the dark fullcurrent, when Sophia stopped as if she had been shot. "The jewels!"she gasped.
"The jewels?"
"Yes, I've left them."
"Oh, never mind them now!" Betty wailed, "never mind them now!"and she caught at her to stay her, but in vain. Already Sophia washalf-way back to the carriage. She vanished inside it; in anincredibly short space--though it seemed long to Betty, trembling withimpatience and searching the valley with eyes of dread--she was outagain with the jewel-case in her hand, and flying back to hercompanion. "They are his!" she muttered, as she urged her on again. "Icouldn't leave them. Now, the stones! The stepping-stones! Oh, child,use your eyes! Find them, or we are lost!"
The fear of Hawkesworth lay heavy on her; she felt that she should dieif his hand touched her. It was unfortunate that all the bank on whichthey stood was light; it was in their favour that the moon had nowrisen high enough to shine on the stream. They ran fifty yards withoutseeing a sign of what they sought. Then--at the very moment when thepursuers' voices broke on their ears, and they realised that in aminute or two they must be espied--they came to a couple of thorntrees, standing not far apart, that afforded a momentary shelter. Ayard farther, and Lady Betty stumbled over something that lay in theshadow of the trees. She recoiled with a cry. "It's a man!" shemurmured.
"The grooms!" Sophia answered, her wits sharpened by necessity; andshe felt for and shook one of the sleepers, tugged at his clothes,even buffeted him in a frenzy of impatience. "George! George!" shemuttered; and again she shook him. But in vain; and as quickly as shehad knelt she was on foot again, and had drawn the child on."Drugged!" she muttered. "They are drugged! We must cross! We mustcross! It's our one chance!"
She hurried her on, bending low; for beyond the two thorn trees alllay bare and open. Suddenly a cry rent the night; an oath, and awoman's scream followed and told them that their flight was known.Their hands clasped, their knees shaking under them, they pressed on,reckless now, expecting every moment to hear footsteps behind them.And joy! Sophia nearly swooned, as she saw not five yards ahead ofthem a ripple of broken water that ran slantwise across the silver;and in a line with it a foot above the surface, a rope stretched tautfrom bank to bank.
The stones were covered, all save one; but the rope promised apassage, more easy than she had dared to expect. "Will you go first,or shall I?" was on the tip of her tongue; but Lady Betty wasted notime on words. She was already in the water, and wading across, herhands sliding along the rope, her petticoats floating out on thesurface of the current. The water was cold, and though it rose nohigher than her knees, ran with a force that but for the rope musthave swept her off her feet. She reached the middle in safety,however, and Sophia who dared not throw the weight of two on the rope,was tingling to follow, when the dreaded sound of feet on the bankwarned her of danger. She turned her head sharply. A man stood withinfive paces of her.
A pace nearer, and Sophia would have flung herself into the stream!heedless of the rope, heedless of all but the necessity of escape. Inthe nick of time, however, she saw that it was not Hawkesworth who hadfound her, but Lane the poor rogue who had ruined them. In a low harshvoice, she bade him keep his distance.
"I don't know what to do!" he faltered, wringing his hands and lookingback in terror. "They'll murder me! I know they will! But there'ssmallpox the other side! You're going into it! There are three dead inthe house, and everybody's fled. I don't know what to do," he whined.
LADY BETTY WASTED NO TIME ON WORDS. SHE WAS ALREADY INTHE WATER AND WADING ACROSS]
Sophia answered nothing, but slid into the stream and waded across. Asshe drew her wet skirts out of the water, and, helped by Lady Betty,climbed the bank, she heard the chase come down the side she had left;and thankful for the deep shadow in which they stood, she pressed thegirl's hand to enjoin silence, as step by step they groped their wayfrom the place. To go as far as possible from the crossing was herobject; her fear that a stumble or a rolling stone--for the side ofthe ridge below the houses was steep and rough--would discover theirposition. Fortunately the darkness which lay there was deepened bycontrast with the moonlit country on the farther side; and they creptsome forty yards along the hill before they were brought up short by awattled fence. They would have climbed this, but as they laid hands onit they heard men shouting, and saw two figures hurry along theopposite bank, and come to a stand, at the point where they hadcrossed. A moment Sophia hung in suspense; then Hawkesworth's voicethrilled her with terror. "Over!" he cried. "Over, fool, and watch thetop!" And she heard the splashing of a horse as it crossed the ford,and the thud of its hoofs as it dashed up the road.
The two fugitives had turned instinctively down stream, in thedirection of the road and the houses. The rider's movement up the roadtherefore tended to cut off their farther retreat; while the distancethey had been able to put between themselves and the stepping-stoneswas so short that they dared not move again, much less make theattempt to repass their landing-place, and go up stream. For themoment, close as they were to their enemies, the darkness shieldedthem; but Sophia's heart beat thickly, and she crouched lower againstthe wattle as she heard Hawkesworth step into the stream and splashhis way across, swearing at the coldness of the water.