The scene the room presented was very different from that which it had displayed when Annie Walton and Lady Margaret left it. Lying on some cushions which had been cast down upon the ground, was the graceful form of the Earl of Beverley, evidently wounded, and somewhat faint. By his side stood Lord Walton, holding a light in his hand, and gazing down upon his friend's countenance, while two stout countrymen, one with a drawn sword in his hand, appeared a little behind, and the tall figure of Captain Barecolt was seen through the open door in the vestibule beyond, reaching down some arms from the wall.
"Dear Annie--dear aunt--look to the earl," cried Charles Walton. "He is shot through the leg; I cannot stop to tell you more; I must pursue them. Ha! see, he is bleeding terribly--'tis that which makes him faint."
"Go, Charles! go!" exclaimed the earl. "I shall do well enough. The wound is nothing; 'tis but the loss of blood. Quick, quick! away, or you will not catch them."
Lord Walton gave one more look to his friend, and a sign to his sister to attend to the earl immediately, and then quitted the room. The sound of prancing hoofs and jingling arms was heard without, then the creaking of the drawbridge as it was lowered, and then the fierce galloping of horse along the lane. Lady Margaret and Miss Walton knelt by the wounded man's side and asked him regarding his wound; but the voice of Annie was faint and low, and her hand trembled so that she could hardly hold the light while her aunt endeavoured to staunch the blood. More effectual assistance, however, was rendered by the servant William, who ran in the moment he had secured the bridge, and with his aid the wound was soon discovered, pouring forth a torrent of blood from some large vessel cut by the ball, which had passed quite through the leg a few inches below the knee. Lady Margaret, however, had some skill in leechcraft, and William was by no means an inexperienced assistant. Bandages were speedily procured, and with little trouble and no loss of time the wound was bound up and the bleeding stopped.
But few words were spoken while this took place, for good Lady Margaret, feeling herself in a position of authority, imposed silence upon all around her. She was too much occupied herself in her surgical operations to remark the pale countenance and anxious eyes of her niece, or the smile of confidence and encouragement with which the earl strove to quiet her apprehensions.
Just as the old lady had finished her task, however, through the doors of the vestibule and hall, which had been left open, was heard the sharp report of pistol-shots, and a confused murmur as of distant tumult. Lady Margaret started and looked round, murmuring, "Ay, strife, strife! This is the world thereof."
Miss Walton pressed her hand upon her heart, but said nothing, and the earl, giving a glance to the servant William, exclaimed--
"For God's sake, run out and see! Have the drawbridge ready, too. If we could have got in at once, the worst part of the mischief would have been spared."
"I must go--indeed I must," said Annie Walton. "Oh, poor Charles! heaven protect him!" And running out of the room, she crossed the stone court, and bending over the low wall at the further angle, she gazed down the road in the direction from which the sounds appeared to come. Night had now set in, but yet the darkness was not very profound, and Miss Walton fancied that she beheld several moving figures at some distance up the long straight avenue. The next moment there was a flash, followed by a sharp report--then another and another; and on each occasion the sudden light showed her for an instant a number of men and horses, all grouped together in wild and confused strife. The instant after, a horseman came down the road at headlong speed, and Annie Walton exclaimed, "Oh! the drawbridge! William, let down the drawbridge."
"Wait a minute, my lady," replied the servant; "it is not every man that gallops who is coming here."