His words must have been heard by “the gentleman” of whom old Hiram had spoken, for a square of blue and sunshine opened suddenly above her, and, as she toiled up the final rungs, a hand, whose touch was certainly familiar, grasped hers, and swung her over that last awkward step, where she seemed to hang over a yawning black gulf for a moment, before landing upon terra firma outside the tower.
“Hugh!” She had forgotten everything for the moment, except the joy of seeing him again, but in an instant, like a bitter wind, her cousin’s words swept back upon her—“I forbid you to have anything to do with that young man.”
Hugh could not think why she withdrew her hand, and went back to the little low tower door with a cloud on the face that had been so bright a minute since. “How slow the others are in getting up!” she said.
Hugh watched her uneasily, as she gave her hand to Miss Osric and helped her through the doorway; then proceeded to the same office for little Pauly. Surely it was very unlike Sydney to have nothing to say to him, to be absorbed in these comparative strangers, when he was at her elbow. Surely her manner had changed with extraordinary speed since yesterday.
She on her part had been rapidly considering the situation. It was plainly impossible to go down the tower again the very minute after she had come up it. What excuse could she make that had the slightest sound of reason? None, she was quite aware. Plainly the only thing that she could do was to obey her cousin’s order in the spirit though not in the letter.
She was rather pale, but her voice was steady as she bent over little Pauly, devoting herself to answering his many questions.
Mr. Seaton talked to Miss Osric and to Hugh, who answered him a little absently. His eyes were fixed on Sydney. The Vicar looked from one to the other in a rather puzzled way from time to time, as he did the honours of the splendid view that lay before them.
Glimpses of the Castle showed through its encircling trees, but in summer, Mr. Seaton said, when all the leaves were out, it was completely hidden.
He pointed out in succession the quaint little villages, dotted at intervals about the valley, with some interesting comment upon each. There was Loam, which boasted the finest chancel-screen in the county. Miss Lisle and Miss Osric ought to see it one of these bright days: it was most distinctly worth the trouble of a visit. That tiny church, with a tower that looked as though some giant had sat upon it long ago, was Marston. Did Mr. Chichester remember a humorous account in the papers two or three years back, of a famous “kill” which had taken place in Marston churchyard, when the fox had taken refuge in one of the old stone box tombs, and held the narrow entry, worn by age and weather in the stone, for full an hour?
Styles and Hurstleigh lay out yonder; it was in Hurstleigh that the Manor stood, which a loyal lady of the Civil Wars had defended against General Ireton, till relieved by her husband just as the little garrison were reduced to the last straits.