CHAPTER XIII.
IN THE NIGHT.
"Quand on conspire, sans frayeur Il faut se faire conspirateur; Pour tout le monde il faut avoir Perruque blonde, et collet noir!"
Peggy's injury proved to be slight, as she herself had declared, but thejar had been considerable, and her head ached so that she was glad to beput to bed and nursed by Margaret. Rita hovered about, still very pale,and apparently much more disturbed by the accident than the actualsufferer. She put many questions: Would Peggy be well to-morrow?Probably still weak? Would it be necessary for her to remain in her roomthis evening? In that case, what would Margaret do? Would she leave herto Elizabeth's care, and come down as usual?
"Certainly not!" Margaret replied. "Elizabeth will stay with Peggy attea-time, but otherwise I shall not leave her. You don't mind stayingalone, Rita? Of course, there is not much to be done; Peggy is not illat all, only weak and tired, but she likes to have me with her. You willnot be lonely?"
No; Rita had letters to write. She should do very well. Desolated, ofcourse, without the two who were her soul and her existence; butMargaret understood that she could not bear the sight of sickness; ithad been thus from infancy. Margaret nodded kindly, and went back intoPeggy's room, with an impression that Rita was pleased at having her outof the way. Out of the way of what? But Margaret could not think aboutmysteries now. Peggy wanted to talk, and to have her head stroked, andto know that Margaret was near her.
"Your hand is so smooth, Margaret. I never felt anything like it; andthe smoothness and coolness seem to go into my head, and stop theaching. Do you think this is being sick? If it is, I like it."
Margaret saw that the child was excited, and her eyes were overbright."No; this is not being sick," she said quietly. "But you ought to besleepy by this time, my pussy. Lie still now, like a good child, and Iwill sing to you. Will you have the 'Bonny House o' Airlie?'"
But it was long before Peggy could be quieted. She wanted to talk. Shewas full of reminiscences of former "croppers" in the lives of thevarious members of her family. She wanted to tell how Jim was dragged bythe buffalo bull he was taming; how Pa caught the young grizzly by hispaws, and held him until George came with the rifle; how Brown Billy ranaway with her when she was six years old, and how she held on by hismane till he lay down and rolled in the creek, and then swam ashore. Herbrain was feverishly excited, and it was not till late in the eveningthat Margaret succeeded in singing and soothing the tired girl to sleep.At length Peggy lay still, and her thoughts began to sink away into softdreams, lulled by the soft hand on her brow, and the smooth, sweet voicein her ears. She opened her eyes to say, "I love you, Margaret; I loveyou best, over and over, all the time. If I thought I didn't for a bit,that was just because I was a stupid, and she--but now I know." AndPeggy smiled, and smiling, fell asleep.
Margaret sat still for a time, listening to the breathing that grewdeeper and more regular as the minutes went on. She had brought her ownbed across the hall, meaning to sleep with Peggy, in case of her wakingin the night; though that was hardly likely. It was ten o'clock now, andRita was probably asleep. She would go down for a moment to see that allwas well, and perhaps have a word with Elizabeth, if she were not goneto bed. She went softly to the door, and turned the handle noiselessly.The door was locked!
Greatly startled, Margaret stood motionless for a few minutes, thinkingand listening. At first all was still. Footsteps above herhead,--Elizabeth was going to bed; then the familiar creak of the goodwoman's bed; then silence again. Rita's room was across the hall, andshe could hear no sound from there. Through the open window came thesoft night noises: the dew dripping from the chestnut leaves, a littlesleepy wind stirring the branches, a nut falling to the ground. Howstill!
Hark! did a twig snap then? Was some one moving through the shrubbery,brushing gently against the leaves? And then, as her heart stood stillto listen, Margaret heard a low, musical whistle. She stole to thewindow, and standing in the shadow of the curtain, looked out. A lightwas burning in her room, and at first she could see nothing butblackness outside. Gradually, the outlines of the great chestnut stoleout from the empty darkness, a hard black against the soft gloom of thenight. Then the shrubbery behind; and then--was something moving there?Were those two figures standing by the tree?
The whistle was repeated; and now Margaret heard the swift rustle ofsilk brushing against her door, then fluttering from baluster tobaluster, as Rita sped down the stairs. A door opening softly, and nowthree figures stood under the chestnut-tree. Words were whispered,greetings exchanged; then the three figures stole away into theblackness.
Margaret felt helpless for a moment. Locked in,--her cousin asleep here,exhausted if not ill, and needing absolute quiet,--and going ondownstairs--what? She must know! She must call John Strong, and warnhim that her fears were realised, and that unwelcome visitors werealready at the doors of Fernley, perhaps already within. But how was itpossible? She ran to the window and looked down. Full twenty feet! Tojump was impossible; even Peggy could not have done it. Peggy! yes! butPeggy could get out. Only the other night she had had a climbing frenzy,and had slid down the gutter-spout, half for the joy of it, half totease Margaret, who was in terror till she reached the ground, and thenin greater terror when the young gymnast came "shinning" up again,shouting and giggling. The spout! Margaret stood looking at it now. Fora moment her courage deserted her, and she wrung her hands and began tosob under her breath; but this would not do! Her nerves knew theresolute shake of the shoulders, and shrank into obedience. She set herlips firmly, and there crept into her face a certain "dour" look thatmay have come from her Scottish ancestors. "If a thing has to be done,why, it must be done!" she said to herself. "Anyhow, there will besolid ground at the bottom, not a quaking bog."
Could she do it? She had never climbed in her life. She had been wont togrow dizzy on any great height; and here she reflected that she hadinwardly laughed at Rita, a few hours before, for growing dizzy at thesight of blood. "But I have to learn so many lessons!" said poorMargaret, and with that she laid her hand on the spout. A moment longershe waited, but no longer in hesitation,--she was simply asking forstrength from One who had never refused it yet; then she clasped thepipe with both hands, swung herself out as she had seen Peggy do, andslid down, down, down.
Her hands were torn and bleeding, but she reached the ground in safety,falling several feet, but escaping with a few bruises which she did notfeel at the time. She ran round the house toward the east wing, wherethe gardener's room was, but stopped half-way. The door of theground-floor room, her uncle's private room, was open; a light wasburning inside. Possibly John Strong was himself on the watch, and sheneed go no farther. Margaret turned hastily, entered the room,--and wasconfronted by two young gentlemen in Spanish cloaks and broad-brimmedhats.
Margaret's first impulse was to run away; her second, to stand and wait,feeling that she was at a play, and that the next scene was going to bevery thrilling; but the third impulse was the right one, and she steppedforward, holding out her hand.
"You are my Cousin Carlos, I am sure!" she said, addressing the tallerof the two lads (for they were only lads, she saw to her unspeakablerelief; the elder could not be more than twenty). "I am MargaretMontfort. You--you have seen Rita?"
Don Carlos Montfort gasped and bowed, hat in hand. He and his companionwere evidently new to their role of conspirators, for they werepiteously ill at ease, and their dark eyes roamed about as if in searchof retreat; but he managed to say something about the distinguishedhonour--a spare hour to visit his sister--delight at making theacquaintance of a relative so charming,--here he stopped and looked overhis shoulder, for footsteps were heard, and he hoped Rita was coming.Already he and his comrade were cursing themselves for having been assesenough to be drawn into this scrape; why had they attended to a foolishgirl instead of going their own way? Now they were in a trap--was thatRita coming?
The door of the secret staircase was open, showing which way the girlhad
gone. But the steps that were now descending were heavy, thoughquiet,--far different from the rush of an excited bird that had gone upa moment before Margaret's appearance. They were to follow Rita,--shewent to light a candle. Ah! what was this?
The young men recoiled, and their dark eyes opened to their fullestwidth; Margaret's hands came together with a violent clasp. Down thenarrow stair and into the room came a man in a black velvet jacket; atall man, with bright, dark eyes and a grave face. He held a candle inhis hand; he set it down, and turned to the two disconcerted Spaniards.
"My nephew," said Mr. Montfort, "I am glad to welcome you and yourfriend to Fernley House. I am your Uncle John!"
Margaret was not conscious of any surprise. It seemed part of the play,and as if she had known it all along, but had not been allowed torealise it, for some dramatic reason. She saw John Strong--JohnMontfort--shaking hands with the two unhappy young men, and trying toput them at their ease by speaking of the bad roads and the poorconveyances that were undoubtedly to blame for their arriving so late.She saw and heard, but still as in a dream. Her real thought was forRita; what would she do? What desperate step might follow thisdisconcerting of her cherished plan?
Unconsciously Margaret had moved forward, till now she stood the nearestto the foot of the stairs. She looked up into the darkness, with somethought of going to her cousin, telling her gently what had happened,and quieting her so that she might come down and face the situation, andmeet her uncle. All at once, from that darkness above, a bright lightsprang up, and the same instant there rang out a wild and terribleshriek.
"Help! Carlos, help! I burn!"
The three men started forward, but they were not the first. Margaretwas conscious of but a single movement as she flew up the stairs, neverstumbling, lighted by that fearful glare above. To spring into thegarret, to drag down the heavy old cloak--the same that once hadfrightened the three girls on their first visit--that hung close by thestairway, to fling herself upon Rita, throwing her down, muffling her,smothering and beating out the flames that were leaping up toward thegirl's white, wild face,--all this was done in one breath, it seemed toher. She knew nothing in the world but the fire she was fighting, thelittle flames that, choked down in one place, came creeping out at herfrom another, playing a dreadful hide-and-seek among the folds of thecloak, starting up under her very hands; but Margaret caught them in herhands, and strangled the life out of them, and fought on. It was but amoment, in reality. Another second or two and the flames would have hadthe mastery; but Margaret's swift rush had been in time, and the goodheavy cloak--oh, the blessed weight and closeness of its fabric!--hadshut out the air, so that by the time the last of the three anxiouspursuers had reached the garret, the fire was out, and only smoke andcharred woollen remained to tell of the terrible danger. Only these--andthe two hands, burned and blistered, that Margaret was holding out toher uncle, as he bent anxiously over her.
"Don't be angry with her, Uncle!" cried the girl. And she knew nothingmore.