“That is better,” I replied. “Then put that case back, if you please. The news will be neither better nor worse because you do not hear it.” And I let her go, and turned quickly to the window, intent, as far as appearances went, upon Levi and the gang.
But if there had been anything to note, if Levi had made a move at that moment, I doubt if I should have seen it. The contest had not taken two minutes, but it had changed all our relations. The struggle and her surrender, the contact between us—our hands had hardly met hitherto—had put the spark to a train that in my case was already laid. My blood was in a tumult, my face as hot as hers, my heart beat furiously. What her feelings were I could only guess. But the tell-tale blood that had waved its signal in her cheek, her sudden confusion, her drooping head, if these did no more than own the man’s mastery, they were such an advance on anything that had passed between us that it was no wonder that I forgot the peril, Levi, the rogues, all.
A minute or two, during which I dared not look at her, brought me to my senses. I saw that the mist was thinner, that the sun was beginning to peer through it. Soon we should be able to look abroad, and Levi and his men, surprised in the open and almost within view of the highway, might find the boot on the other leg. My spirits rose; and again I remembered, and they sank as quickly. The news! The news that she longed for so hungrily, from which she expected so much. How could it be good? I knew Rawdon too well, and the story of poor André was too fresh in my memory. Besides, the men’s ultimatum could hardly have been delivered. And were the news bad, as bad it must be, it mattered little what she felt for me now. The feeling would not survive the shock.
I stole a glance at her. She was listening. Presently her eyes came to meet mine. “Surely,” she urged, “the five minutes are past.”
“Yes,” I said, “they must be.” And looking warily out of the window I shouted.
No one answered, no one appeared. But while I hung over the sill and waited sounds that I did not understand came to my ears, vaguely at first, but presently more clearly. It seemed to me that a struggle was going on not far off. “I believe Tom has got away!” I exclaimed. “Or they are fighting among themselves. Listen!”
The report of a gun startled us. The girl sprang to the window and breathless, trembling with anxiety she leant far out; so far that I drew her back. “Have a care!” I said. “They might take you for me!” Then, “Who is this?” I asked.
A man had appeared at a little distance from us, and was approaching the door. I knew at a glance that it was not Levi; Levi would have hailed me from a distance or sneaked up under cover. This man came forward without fear, a little switch in his hand. “It’s not Tom!” I said. The mist blurred the man’s outline.
“Tom? No!” she answered looking at me piteously. Then, “Ask him! He knows! He—” She could not finish. She clung to me. It was only later that I took in the full wonder and the meaning of this. She clung to me, though the news bad or good, was not known to her.
“Halloa!” I shouted to the man who was still a few yards from the door but was coming on as coolly as if he were approaching his own house. “Is it good news?” I had no doubt of the answer but it was best to know the worst, best to have it over.