With a single bound, she reached Georgia Conway, and struck at her heart. The corsage of the young lady, however, turned the poniard, and at the same instant a thundering volley of musketry resounded without.
Furious cries were then heard; the wild trampling of horses; and a loud voice ordering:—
“Put them to the bayonet!”
Darke drew his sword, and reached the side of the woman at a bound. Throwing his arms around her, he raised her, and rushed, with his burden, through the hall, toward the lawn, where a fierce combat was in progress.
Suddenly the woman uttered a wild cry, and relaxed her grasp upon his neck. A bullet had buried itself in her bosom.
Darke’s hoarse and menacing voice echoed the cry; but he did not release the body; with superhuman strength he raised it aloft, and bounded down the steps.
As he reached the bottom, a man rushed upon him, and drove his bayonet through his breast. It was withdrawn, streaming with blood.
“Put all to the bayonet!” shouted the voice of General Davenant, as he charged with his young son, Charles, beside him.
At that voice Darke stretched out both hands, and dropping his sword, uttered a cry, which attracted the general’s attention.
For an instant they stood facing each other—unutterable horror in the eyes of General Davenant.