Like the shock from a galvanic battery did that sound breathe life into my frozen limbs. Holding a chair before my face I literally burst through the high French windows, crashing the glass and splintering the framework into a thousand pieces. With the cry of a wild beast I dashed across the lawn and leaped over the privet hedge. Maud, my Maud, was scarcely a dozen yards from me, struggling in the grasp of the man who had come to rob me of his confession, with his great hand pressed against her wild, beautiful face to stop her cries.
They heard me coming, and he half released her, and with his other hand pointed a revolver at me. But passion must have lent me wings, for before he could pull the trigger I had dashed it into the air, where it exploded harmlessly, and with my clenched fist I struck him such a blow as I had never struck before or since. He was a powerful man, with a thick, bullet-shaped head, but he went down like a log, and well-nigh never rose again. His companion, without a word, turned and ran across the park like a hare, and I let him go.
Maud was in my arms, sobbing hysterically, Maud with the moon shining down on her blanched but exquisite face, and her white arms thrown around my neck. If she were the daughter of a prince of hell she was still the woman I loved; and I stooped and covered her cold face and lips with passionate kisses. Then I caught her up in my arms, for she was shivering, and ran with her to the house.
Every one had been roused by the sound of my exit, and the report of the revolver. Marian, with her dressing-gown loosely wrapped around her, was standing trembling at the head of the stairs, and behind her were the servants more frightened even than she. When she saw me cross the hall with Maud's lifeless form (for her faint seemed almost the faint of death) in my arms, she gave vent to one cry of blank amazement and horror, and then hurried down to us.
"Hugh, Hugh," she whispered, clinging to me as I laid my burden down on the sofa, and fell on my knees by its side. "Maud here! Maud out in the park at this time of night! What has happened, Hugh? What does it all mean?"
"Can't you see?" I muttered hoarsely, never withdrawing my eyes from the white, cold face. "She has had a fright, and has fainted!"
"But what on earth has brought her here—out at this time of night? And in her slippers, too!"
I was on the point of saying that I knew no more than she, but suddenly the truth flashed into my mind. Maud had walked out in her sleep! I had heard her say that for a long time she had been obliged to have her maid in her room at night, and sleep with locked doors; and that when Sir Francis lay dangerously ill not many years ago, nearly every night when she had gone to bed thinking of him, she had risen in her sleep and tried to make her way to his room. Then she must have been thinking of me! A sudden thrill of joy passed through me at the thought, and Marian looked at me in stupefied bewilderment to see the smile which for a moment parted my lips.
"She must have come out in her sleep, Marian," I whispered. "There were some men hanging about outside—poachers I suppose—and they have frightened her. Get some brandy, quick! and tell one of the girls to light a fire. We must have some hot water."
She hurried away, and the door had scarcely closed when Maud changed her position slightly, and her lips moved. I bent my ear close over her, and this is what I heard: