"Mr Murray, pray don't go," said Mary. "I am so much afraid it is dangerous; and Roger is so venturesome."
"Be sure you groan as loud as ever you can," said flippant Charley, "so that we may know where to find you when you fall."
"Come along," said Roger. As for Abel, he had no sort of nervous feeling; he knew exactly how to climb, and which were the dangerous places. When they came to one of these, Roger, who preceded him, called him to follow upon an arch of crumbling masonry, which looked sure enough from below. "When we get over this we are in safety," he said; "so take care, cross it gingerly, as I am responsible for you."
"Not that way," cried Abel. "Stop, stop, not there! That will not bear your weight. Ridley!" he shouted in growing excitement, "stop! I tell you this is the way."
"Come on!" cried Roger, gaily. Then there was a sound of sliding, and a cloud of dust and a cry. The cry was from Mary outside, looking on with fear and trembling, and seeing her brother disappear. She gave a wild shriek, such as half enervated and half inspired Abel, who had sprung with the instinct of the moment to the spot which he knew to be trustworthy, and standing there, supported by an angle of the wall, had already caught Roger before he could fall far. But the crushing impetus with which Roger fell against him, and the fright and the excitement together, were too much for Abel, already suffering from the long strain of suppressed feeling. He laughed loud and wildly,—a laugh that seemed to the terrified spectators below to have the scream of madness in it. "I told you this was the way," he cried, laughing, but panting for breath.
Mary Ridley ran screaming towards the house, then came back again as John and the other servants rushed out. She ran back to the half-ruined staircase by which the path began, wringing her hands in despair. Abel's laughter was still pealing out unrestrained, making the whole incident horrible.
"Oh, make him stop! make him stop!" she cried, putting her hands to her ears. "Roger is killed, and the other has gone mad! Oh, make him stop, make him stop!"
CHAPTER V.
"What is the matter?" said calmly a smooth and even voice. Mary was almost beside herself. The servants had all gone into the ruins with Charley Landale at their head to help, and she stood outside in an anguish of despair and horror, calling out unconsciously to stop him, to stop him! It seemed almost a secondary thing to her that Roger was killed—if there could be but silence again, if they could but be free of that horrible laugh. The voice which now addressed her ought to have been the dearest voice in the world to Mary, but its calm and even tone seemed, on the contrary, an aggravation, only a little less horrible than the sound of that laughter, which she could neither bear nor tolerate. What was the matter? She clasped her hands wildly together and pointed to the ruins. She could not say anything. Could not he have seen, if he had felt for her as he ought—if he had cared about her and her surroundings—could not he have seen at once without asking what was the matter? She had no leisure to look at, or speak to, Featherstonhaugh. Presently the mangled body of her only brother would be carried out in her sight; but, oh! if that horrible laugh could but be made an end of—that was the worst to bear.
"Some one must have gone mad, surely," said Sir Richard. "Had you not better go in, Mary? This cannot be a scene for you. Go in, and I will come and tell you what has happened. Hallo! is this Roger? Then what is the matter?" he said in his surprise. Mary shut her eyes with a sinking of horror not to see the terrible sight she looked for, but at the same moment felt a sudden lull and ease steal over her—the scream of wild laughter had ceased.