"We must alarm the house," cried Sarby, in a horrified tone, and thereupon walked swiftly toward the door. But before he could reach it the major, having recovered his presence of mind, seized him by the arm.
"No, no!" said Jen, hastily. "Do not bring any one here as yet, David. We must think of this poor girl. Take her home at once. When you are both out of the house I shall give the alarm. You understand--no one must know that Miss Dallas has been in my house at this hour."
"I quite agree with you," said David, simply, and, turning to Isabella, he took her gently by the hand. "Come, Miss Dallas. This is no place for you."
"Maurice!" muttered Isabella, looking piteously at him.
"Maurice is not here. Come, Miss Dallas, let me take you back to your mother."
"My mother is so cruel," said Isabella in a low tone, "and I feel so ill," she continued, raising her hand to her loose hair. "Yes, yes; I must go home. But Maurice--my dear Maurice."
"I shall tell you all about it to-morrow," answered Jen, soothingly, and led her out of the room. "At the present moment you must go home with Mr. Sarby. David, there is a loose cloak of mine in the hall. Wrap it round her and come into the library. It is best that she should leave in the way she came."
David did as he was told, and snatched up his own ulster after wrapping up Isabella. In the library they found the major reopening the shutters of the window, which he had closed on the girl's entry. When he flung them aside a gust of wind blew inward, sprinkling him with moisture.
"Rain," said Jen, drawing back, "All the better; there will be no spies about, and you can take Miss Dallas home without being observed."
Taking the girl by the hand, David led her toward the window. She was in a half-dazed condition, the result of the strong excitement which had impelled her to make this midnight visit, and her nerves being thus dulled, she surrendered herself passively to the guidance of David. Only at the window did she pause and look steadfastly at the major.