“No, sir, to-night. There, don’t delay! But above all, let everything be done quietly and noiselessly. The duke will remain here for an hour longer to prevent suspicion. When you’ve executed your orders, come back here.”
I mounted the first horse I could find at the door, and galloped with top speed over the heavy causeway to Etterbeeck. In two minutes the drum beat to arms, and the men were mustering as I left. Thence I hastened to the barracks of the Highland Brigade and the 28th Regiment; and before half an hour, was back in the ball-room, where, from the din and tumult, I guessed the scene of pleasure and dissipation continued unabated. As I hurried up the staircase a throng of persons were coming down, and I was obliged to step aside to let them pass.
“Ah, come here, pray,” said Picton, who, with a lady cloaked and hooded leaning upon his arm, was struggling to make way through the crowd. “The very man!”
“Will you excuse me if I commit you to the care of my aide-de-camp, who will see you to your carriage? The duke has just desired to see me.” This he said in a hurried and excited tone; and the same moment beckoned to me to take the lady’s arm.
It was with some difficulty I succeeded in reaching the spot, and had only time to ask whose carriage I should call for, ere we arrived in the hall.
“Sir George Dashwood’s,” said a low, soft voice, whose accents sank into my very heart. Heaven! it was Lucy herself; it was her arm that leaned on mine, her locks that fluttered beside me, her hand that hung so near, and yet I could not speak. I tried one word; but a choking feeling in my throat prevented utterance, and already we were upon the door-steps.
“Sir George Dashwood’s carriage,” shouted the footman, and the announcement was repeated by the porter. The steps were hurried down; the footman stood door in hand; and I led her forward, mute and trembling. Did she know me? I assisted her as she stepped in; her hand touched mine: it was the work of a second; to me it was the bliss of years. She leaned a little forward; and as the servant put up the steps, said in her soft, sweet tone, “Thank you, sir. Good-night.”
I felt my shoulder touched by some one who, it appeared, was standing close to me for some seconds; but so occupied was I in gazing at her that I paid no attention to the circumstance. The carriage drove away and disappeared in the thick darkness of a starless night. I turned to re-enter the house, and as I did so, the night lamp of the hall fell upon the features of the man beside me, and showed me the pale and corpse-like face of Fred Hammersley. His eye was bent upon me with an expression of fierce and fiery passion, in which the sadness of long-suffering also mingled. His bloodless lips parted, moved as though speaking, while yet no sound issued; and his nostril, dilating and contracting by turns, seemed to denote some deep and hidden emotion that worked within him.
“Hammersley,” said I, holding out my hand towards him,—“Hammersley, do not always mistake me?”
He shook his head mournfully as it fell forward upon his breast, and covering his arm, moved slowly away without speaking.