The cave was dry and comparatively comfortable, and Tom felt as he entered it almost like going home. Will Mather had spent a day and a night there, while better than all, Maude De Vere was with him, her bright eyes shining upon him through the darkness, and her hands touching his as she groped around for the candle her uncle had said was on a shelf in the rock.
It was presently found, and with the aid of the match Maude had brought with her a light was soon struck, its flickering beams lighting up the dark recesses of the cavern with a ghastly kind of light, which to Maude seemed more terrible than the darkness. She was not afraid, but her nerves were shaken as only threatened danger to Tom Carleton could shake them, and she felt strangely alone on the wild mountain side and in that silent cavern.
Tom did not seem like much of a protector in that woman’s garb, but when, with a shake and a kick and a merry laugh, he threw aside the bonnet, shawl and dress, and stood before her in his own proper person, minus the boots, she felt all her courage coming back, and with him beside her could have defied the entire Southern army. There was water enough in the spring to wash the black from his face, and Maude lent her own pretty ruffled white apron for a towel, and then, when his toilet was completed, began to speak of returning.
“At this hour, and alone, with the road full of robbers? Never, Maude, never! You must either stay here with me, or I shall go back with you,” Tom said, and he involuntarily wound his arm around the waist of the young girl, who trembled like a leaf.
She did not think of Arthur then, or her promise to him, for something in Tom’s voice and manner as he put his arm about her and called her Maude, brought to her a feeling such as she had never experienced before. Perhaps Tom suspected that he was understood, for he held her closer to him, and passing his hand caressingly over her burning cheek, he whispered:
“Dear Maude, I cannot let you incur any danger which I must not share. You understand me, don’t you?”
She thought of Arthur then, and the thought cut like a knife through her heart. She must not understand; she must not listen to words like these; she must not stay there to hear them, and with a quick gesture she was removing Tom’s arm from her waist, when his wary “Hist!” made her pause and stand where she was, leaning against him, and heavily, too, as terror overcame every other feeling. Footsteps were coming near, and coming cautiously, too, up to the very entrance of the cave, where they stopped as some one outside seemed to be listening.
It was a moment of terrible suspense, and Maude could hear the throbbing of her heart, while Tom strained her so close to him that his chin rested on her hair, and she felt his breath upon her cheek.
“Maude,—sister Maude,” came reassuringly in a low whisper, and with a cry Maude burst away from Tom, exclaiming:
“Charlie, what brings you here?”