“They are coming at last!” he exclaimed. “I hear steps in the passage. What! no lights? Curse those servants! Why can’t they bring a lamp? Hullo! who goes there? a petticoat an I mistake not. Tom, bring one of those candles; here’s sport to pass the time of waiting.”
Unluckily, as Norton’s eyes grew more accustomed to the semi-darkness, he caught sight of three people rapidly crossing a patch of moonlight in the kitchen. He hurried forward, and was just in time to sec the little group of dusky figures stealing out of the house. Then the door closed behind them, and though he pulled with all his might at the handle, he could not make it yield, for Joscelyn Heyworth held on to it like grim death.
Meanwhile, Gabriel had hurriedly pulled on his boots, and was half-leading, half-carrying, little Mistress Nell through the dark shrubbery, while Amos panted after him with Mistress Malvina.
When Joscelyn rejoined them, the poor chaperon seemed almost at her last gasp, and the sound of Norton’s steps gaining upon them took all the strength from her limbs.
“Take a turn to the right and double back to the house with the lady,” said Joscelyn; “you will outwit them thus, and can ride later on to Gloucester.”
It was no time to hesitate. Amos blindly obeyed, and dragged Mistress Malvina into the depths of the shrubbery, where she sank on to the ground unable to take another step, but listening in terrible anxiety to hear what would happen.
Joscelyn, running like the wind, overtook his companions, and caught Helena’s other hand in his, then, leaving the shrubbery, the fugitives rushed across the bowling-green. The moon shone only too brightly, but they were forced to risk shots from behind, for to drag the girl along the narrow half-overgrown path proved slow work, and their capture would have been certain.
Surely Norton would hesitate to shoot. His feelings as a gentleman would probably be stronger than the savage lust of conquest, and the brute instincts which had prompted him to this night’s work.
But they had yet to learn his character; as long as his mind was fully bent on any desire, nothing could baffle him.
A bullet whistled through the air, missing Joscelyn Hey-worth only by a hair’s breadth. Little Nell gripped the hands of her rescuers with the intensity of one whose nerves are strained to the utmost, but otherwise she made no sign, and ran bravely on. A second bullet followed, but it glanced aside from Gabriel’s corslet. Helena felt the shock of it in the hand which he grasped, and a stifled cry of horror escaped her. Had not her two protectors borne her on more and more swiftly she felt that she must have given up, and have thrown herself on Squire Norton’s mercy.