On and on she went. And now she had reached the outer-most intake; and now she had crossed the lank grass, and gone through the gate at the top, and reached the bare house-side that looked from its solitary window on to the path which led to the courtyard. Mistress Wayne caught her breath, and stopped, and listened; but the house was still as death. Her resolution faltered; she looked up and down the wall, with the rain-lines shimmering grey from the gable-end to the rustling weeds at its foot—looked, and saw nothing for awhile—looked, with the absent gaze of those who wander in their sleep, until a shadow crossed the window-pane, a shadow that took substance.
Then there was a crash, the falling of broken glass, and Mistress Wayne had wit neither to scream nor flee. She could but follow the hand that beckoned through the broken pane.
CHAPTER XXVII
HOW THE LEAN MAN FORGOT THE FEUD
Janet, soon as she reached Wildwater after bidding farewell to Shameless Wayne, went up to the Lean Man's room to tell him how she had fulfilled her errand and to see if he were in need of anything. But the sound of voices met her when she gained the stair-head, and she stopped irresolute. The pity that she felt for her grandfather was such as to make her shrink from showing it to the rude eyes of her kinsmen, and she would wait until the Lean Man and she could be alone together.
The door was wide open, and as she turned to go downstairs again Red Ratcliffe's voice sounded harshly across the landing. "By the Heart, sir, we judged you all amiss! We thought the fight was dead in you, and now——"
"Dead? The fight will die, lad, when I do," chuckled the Lean Man. "Tell me, is it not bravely planned?"
Janet crept close to the door, her eyes wide-open with dismay.
"Bravely, sir," went on Red Ratcliffe. "Peste! We have them in the hollow of our hands, and yond Wayne of Marsh will learn, as his father did, whither courteous foolery leads a man. He drank in your tale, then, when you went to him that night at Marsh?"
"Ay, did he; and God knows how I kept my laughter in when I saw him falling into the wonted softness of his race. How could he refuse an old man's plea? How could he be less than courteous when I fetched a tear or so and babbled of my failing strength?"