Clash of Arms: A Romance

by John Bloundelle-Burton

The woman spoke no more, nor, as Andrew had thought would happen, did she spring at him. Instead, without one word, she turned on her heel and slowly made her way to the ladder, where, grasping the side-rail, she descended it. Yet, ere she did so, she turned her face once and glanced at him, the look she gave him piercing to his heart.

And, as he flung himself back on his rug, he muttered in the darkness by which he was once more surrounded:

"Heaven forgive me! Heaven forgive me! I had to do it--it may win her to our side; help Marion Wyatt and myself to our freedom. It had to be done. Yet, it has driven her mad--if she was not already so. Heaven forgive me!"

[CHAPTER XXV.<]

THE UNEXPECTED

Lying on his couch--if the bare floor and the rug upon which he found himself could be called such--Andrew began to perceive that whatever hurt he might have taken in the affray of the hall was leaving him. He had long since, in the passage of one weary hour after another, discovered that the wound which had rendered him insensible was not serious, and that the blow had not proceeded from the pistol which had been fired in his face. On the contrary, it was certain that he had been struck down from behind, at the moment that weapon exploded, by either some bludgeon or sword wielded by one of the servitors, and that, beyond this, he had received little harm. As for the pain in his shoulder--that did, indeed, proceed from the pistol bullet which had grazed his collar-bone, but had done no further injury.

And, now, in spite of his hard bed and poor nourishment--for nothing beyond the jug of water and the platter of bread was ever given him--he still found himself returning to strength and health. His mind had cleared also, as he perceived when he was able to so work upon the feelings of the maddened woman who had visited him--he felt he was ready to resist his doom in whatever form it might approach him. Nay, more, that he was ready to combat and avoid that doom should any opportunity arise of doing so.

Yet, he asked himself again and again as he lay there, how was the resistance to be offered! How? He was chained, and at the top of the house. There was no exit that way. Doubtless, those who had carried him up to this garret while he was insensible remembered that; calculated also that, even though the chain had not been about his leg and securely rivetted to the floor, he had no chance of escape. The chasm was impassable and there was no other mode of egress, since, never again, would he be allowed to reach the lower part of the house unobserved.

The woman had come no more by the time that he supposed a day and a night must have passed since she visited him, or, if she had come, he had not known it. Yet he had found the water replenished again in the vase by his side, and the empty platter filled with bread.

Therefore he knew this must have been done when he slept, and, doubtless, done in the dark. Otherwise he would have been awakened by the glare of the light!