With a cry like that of a wounded animal, Philip Chater sprang from her, and went plunging among the trees, in the direction of that frightful sound. He came, in a moment, upon something which brought him to his knees, with a suppressed scream; the body of a young girl, about whom all the earth seemed stained a dreadful crimson. Beyond that sight, was the young lad Harry, up to his knees in a long shallow trench, in which he was digging away like a fury. He neither heard his master’s approach, nor glanced up for a moment.
Philip turned, and crashed back through the wood, until he reached the woman’s side again. “Come away,” he whispered, hurriedly—“it—it is nothing; come away—for God’s sake!”
But she broke from him, and went racing in the direction he had himself taken, and was lost to sight in a moment. He heard, through the silence that brooded awfully upon the place, a piercing scream; and the next moment she came plunging headlong past him, and went, staggering blindly, with her hands before her eyes, in the direction in which they had walked so calmly but a few moments before.
CHAPTER IX
A SUMMONS FROM SHYLOCK
For quite a long time, Philip Chater stood, staring helplessly in the direction in which the girl had disappeared. All around him was the silence of the wood, broken only by the call of some night-bird, or by the whisper and rustle of the branches, stirred by a rising wind. So still was it all, that he almost shrieked aloud when a hand was laid softly on his arm.
It was Harry—white-faced, and shaking as though with an ague. He, too, gazed in the direction in which Philip’s eyes were turned, and spoke in a frightened whisper.
“Master Dandy—did she—did she see it?”
The question roused Philip, and put the whole horrible thing more clearly before him than it had appeared even in his imagination. He looked round at the lad, and spoke aloud, and in a tone of recklessness quite out of keeping with the peril of his situation. But all considerations of prudence had been swept aside, at that time; ringing in his ears still, was the startled scream of the woman he loved—(yes—he could confess it to his own heart, now that he had lost her)—before his eyes again was the sight of her running figure, with its horror-struck eyes hidden from his view.
“See it! Of course she saw it. What does it matter? All the world may see it; all the world may know of it. Take your spade away, Harry; you may dig a grave, as deep as the pit of Hell itself, and yet you shall not hide that thing! Why do you tremble? What is there for you to tremble at? Her blood cries out—not against you, but against me; it cries to Heaven—‘See—Dandy Chater killed me—Dandy Chater spilled my blood on God’s fair earth—Dandy Chater——’”
His voice had risen to a cry; the other sprang at him, and clapped a shaking hand over his mouth.