"Give me that handkerchief from your neck," said Leyton; "if we can stop the blood, we may save her, yet. I have seen very bad wounds recovered from----"
"No, no!" said Kate Clare; "thank God, I am dying--I would rather die!--Harding, I am not in fault--they caught me in the wood--oh, they treated me horribly. Mr. Radford said it was revenge--God forgive him, God forgive him! But I would rather die thus in your arms--do not try to stop it--it is all in vain."
Leyton and Harding still persisted, however, and bound another handkerchief tight over the wound, in some degree diminishing the stream of blood, but yet, not stopping it entirely.
"Let us carry her to some house," cried Leyton, "and then send for assistance. See! her lips are not so pale."
"I will carry her," cried Harding, raising her in his powerful arms.
"To my aunt's, then--to my aunt's, Harding," murmured Kate; "I would sooner die there than in any other place." And on Harding sped, without reply, while Leyton, sheathing his sword, which he had cast down, followed him, inquiring, "Is it far?"
"But a step, sir," answered the smuggler. "Pray, come with us.--This must be avenged."
"It shall," replied Leyton, sternly; "but I must stay here for a minute or two, till you can send somebody to me, to take my place, and let my men know where I am when they return."
Harding nodded his head, and then turned his eyes upon the face of the poor girl whom he bore in his arms, hurrying on without a moment's pause, till he was lost to the young officer's sight.
It is needless to describe the feelings of a high-minded and noble man like Leyton, when left alone to meditate over the horrible outrage which had been committed under his very eyes. He gave way to no burst of indignation, indeed, but with a frowning brow walked back upon the road, caught his horse without difficulty, and mounting, remained fixed near the spot where poor Kate had received her death-wound, like a soldier upon guard. In less than ten minutes, a lad ran up, saying, "Mr. Harding sent me, sir."