“I was not at Reading,” she said in a constrained tone. “I was living in Dorchester. And I heard of the arrest from Regina.”
“Do, for pity’s sake, tell me all about it!”
“I will tell you every thing: but let me tell Ermine with you. And,—Stephen—you will not try to take him from me? He is all I have.”
“No, Countess,” said Stephen gravely. “You have a right to the life that you have saved. Will you come with me now? But perhaps you cannot leave together? Will the house be rifled when you return?”
“Not at all,” calmly replied Countess. “We will both go with you.”
She rose, disappeared for a moment, and came back clad in a fur-lined cloak and hood. Turning the key in the press which held the stock, she stooped down and attached the key to the dog’s collar.
“On guard, Olaf! Keep it!” was all she said to the dog. “Now, Stephen, we are ready to go with you.”
Olaf got up somewhat sleepily, shook himself, and then lay down close to the screen, his head between his paws, so that he could command a view of both divisions of the chamber. He evidently realised his responsibility.
Stephen had no cause to complain that Countess wasted any time. She walked even faster than he had done, only pausing to let him take the lead at the street corner. But when he had once told her that his home was in Ivy Lane, she paused no more, but pressed on steadily and quickly until they reached the little street. Stephen opened his door, and she went straight in to where Ermine stood.
“Ermine!” she said, with a pleading cadence in her voice, “I have brought back the child unhurt.”