"Yes—and you've spilt all the water—"
"I'll bring you more. But why will you so seldom suffer me to—"
"Because—and take the large pail, Peregrine, and take it now—here's these four shirts ought to be hanging out to dry—so hurry, hurry! Get the water from the pool beyond the big tree, the stream runs clearer there!"
This pool was at some little distance, but away I went, happy in her service, swinging the heavy bucket and humming to myself, as care-free and light-hearted as any youth in Christendom, and presently reached the pool. I was stooping, in the act of filling the bucket, when I paused, arrested by a sudden, vague indefinable sound that puzzled me to account for and set me idly speculating whence it came and what it might be; so I filled the bucket and then, all in a moment, though why I cannot explain, puzzlement changed to swift and sudden dread and, dropping the bucket, I began to run, and with every stride my alarm grew, and to this was added horror and a great passion of rage. Panting, I reached the dingle at last to behold Diana struggling in the arms of a man, and he that same fine gentleman who had accosted her at "The Chequers." They were swaying together close-grappled, her knife-hand gripped in his sinewy fingers, his evil face smiling down into hers; and I burned with wilder fury to see her tumbled hair against his coat and her garment wrenched from throat and white shoulder.
Then as I sprang, with no eyes but for this man, a masterful hand gripped me, a commanding voice spoke in my ear.
"Back—stand back, boy!"
Turning to free myself, I beheld the Earl of Wyvelstoke, but now in his look and bearing was that which halted me in awed amaze.
"Devereux!" said he, not loudly but in voice so terrible that the man started and, loosing Diana, sprang back to glare at the speaker, heedless of Diana's blazing fury and threatening knife. "Stop, Diana!" commanded the Earl. "Come here and leave this unhanged ruffian to me—come, I say!" Humbly she obeyed, shrinking a little beneath his lordship's eyes, to creep into the clasp of my arm.
And so they faced each other, the stranger pale and coldly self-possessed, the Earl, his slender figure erect, one hand in the bosom of his shabby coat, his countenance placid, though frowning a little, but in his eyes a glare to daunt the boldest.
"Devereux!" he repeated in the same leisured, even tone. "Murderer—ravisher, I followed you, and by God you have betrayed yourself!"