“We may outwit both Garsykes and the pool,” he said.
CHAPTER XXII
THE END OF STORM
By her silence, by the sob that followed, Hardcastle learned the measure of Causleen’s dread of what lay behind them. He learned, too, the depth of his fear for her—a terror that ate still at his heart and goaded him to effort. The very chance of release, the nearness of it, made him the more eager to win through with haste, lest Garsykes came at them just too soon.
“The cave drives us mad,” said Causleen, light-headed for a moment between strain of fear and stress of hope. “How can there be little threads of light, stealing from outside—from God’s good out of doors, Dick? It’s night out there, except for the fire that Nita lit, far away. Surely it was far away. We’ve journeyed many a mile since then.”
Hardcastle, seeing how it went with her, put a firm hand on hers. “Would you faint at journey’s end? And where’s your Highland pride?”
He loathed himself for saying it, though it brought her back from sickness.
“Here, Dick,” she said, and was quiet awhile. “Here, Dick,” she said again, her whole body quivering with release from dread. “There are Highland pipers stepping down the cave—and pride marches with them. But we two are mad to dream that light comes from out of doors. How could it? We watched the sun go down—years since—before Nita lit her fire.”
Again he was compelled to rally her. She had gone through more than should be asked of any woman; but needs must that she kept weariness at bay.
“There’s a wall to be broken down,” he said sharply. “Take my gun, Causleen.”