She looked at him without a word.
He went on in the same steady, controlled tones. “Now you see there’s another. Will you help that poor lad through the next hour, I think he’ll be hard pressed? Good-bye, he shall come to his mother. He shan’t be too late.” He took her hands, and bent as if to kiss them. A little sob broke from her, and in a moment the kiss was on her lips.
He was gone before the blood had time to burn up in her cheek, and she broke into a passion of tears, while formless and awful, all the terror that he might be going to meet, rushed over her spirit. She felt helpless, powerless, certain of evil. Her soul was full of mist and cloud. All she could do was, like a child, to follow his behest, and pray for Jem.
Guy, thrilled with a new and high excitement, put up his horse, and with Rawdie still at his heels, pursued his way towards the Dragon, intending to call Jem away from its enticing attractions, and to escort him over the old footbridge back to his mother. A simple thing to do, but he had only crossed that bridge once before.
The hot bright sunlight had thickened into a thundery mist, and the light rapidly faded. Guy was not tired now, he walked easily enough, nor did any perplexing thoughts beset him. He saw—no more than usual. He felt no inward horror. But upon his rapturous mood there fell as strong a conviction that he was going to dare his fate as if he had gone to pick up a bomb of dynamite. He felt as if the very air was a resisting force as he pushed on through it. He went on, and a deep sadness came upon him, and all in a moment, as he came to the top of the hollow, he knew that it was the expectation of death. He stopped and looked down into the mist. He could not see across the valley, and he could not see across that expectation. He could not think of any definite danger. He stood still with his eyes on the ground; upon the mist the spectral shape that went before him, showed out sharp and clear. Words came into his mind. “Fear not him that can kill the body.” But “the body” meant life and work, and love and joy. It meant Florella. Perhaps his body was the price that had to be paid for his soul. And when the end was past? What did death mean? When the spirit was free from the flesh, would the spiritual foes be gone? Or would the last veil be withdrawn from their terrible faces? What would await him in the world where the other Guy had gone before?
Guy went on down the hill till into the misty air gleamed the paraffin lamps of the Dragon public, and into his misty thoughts came the need of sharp and prompt action.
He stepped inside the door, and called out, “Is Jem Outhwaite here? I want him.”
Two or three men were standing about, in the bar. They looked at Guy, and fell back before him with surprising readiness.
“Here a be, sir,” said one, pushing Jem’s reluctant figure forward, as he tried to slink behind them.
“Come Jem,” said Guy; “your mother’s bad, and I’m going to take you back to her across the bridge. Come along with me.”