The word "destroy" might have had reference to Dillwyn's profession, but to the girl's over-wrought imagination it sounded like a death-knell. Oh, to get away! To think!
She would have tried to pass him, but something warned her that such a movement would be unwise. To show cowardice of any sort in his present excited state would be madness. She held her ground bravely, and prayed to Heaven for deliverance of some sort.
And Heaven sent it.
CHAPTER XXIV
"That you Agatha?"
A cheerful voice came to her over the gate. It was the voice of Mr. Browne. Now, Dicky's voice, though good enough of its kind, had never up to this been likened to music; to Agatha, however at this moment it sounded like sweet harmony. She drew her breath quickly; with difficulty, indeed, she suppressed a sob. She held out her hand to him.
"Dicky, is it you? Come—come here. Come quickly!"
She did her best to suppress her agitation, but it mastered her; and Mr. Browne lifted the latch of the small gate, and in a seemingly leisurely manner was at her side almost immediately. He took her hand and held it in a good firm clasp. He was very fond of Agatha, and she was very fond of him, too. Agatha, however, never said that after that night.
Of course, he saw at a glance that something was wrong. He nodded to Darkham, who was in the shadow.
"Heavenly night, isn't it?" Mr. Browne raised his eyes ecstatically to the sky above, now literally besprinkled with the lamps of heaven. "But there's a dew falling. Mrs. Greatorex not ill again, I hope?"