“Oh, no, Mr. Yorke!” she cried, wildly; “it can not be true! He is not dying—not dying, surely! Let me go to him—let me go! Perhaps I can do something to relieve him. Oh, do not refuse me!”
Leonard turned coldly away from Hilda, and took Miss Glyndon’s hand.
“Be brave,” he said in a gentle, reassuring tone. “I am about to have him brought here. You will nurse him, Jessie? He has told me all,” he added in a low tone, which brought the red blood to Jessie’s pale cheeks.
“Will I?” she cried. “Indeed—indeed I will, Mr. Yorke! I will do anything in my power for Captain Venners.”
“Order the red room prepared for him,” said Leonard. “I will have him here in half an hour;” and as he turned away to enter the phaeton, which was now ready, he said to himself: “Please Heaven, all their troubles are at an end now.”
But Hilda Rutledge had no intention of allowing Leonard to escape so easily. She darted down the steps, and as he was about to enter the phaeton she detained him once more.
“Leonard,” she whispered, softly, “tell me that you forgive me for my rash judgment of Violet! I meant no wrong, only—I have seen more of her than you have, you know.”
His eyes rested coldly upon her beautiful face.
“I forgive you, of course,” he returned; “but I warn you, in the future, if you wish to retain my respect, to be more charitable in your judgment of as pure a woman as ever lived!”
He stepped into the phaeton, and it drove rapidly away. He had taken one of the servants with him, while another followed on horseback, that they might be enabled to lift the wounded man into the phaeton without difficulty.