“Why, then,” says he, “your cousin, Mistress French, has devised some plan of rescuing you, and it falls to me to carry out this part of it. Are you willing?”
“Willing!” I says. “Come, let us hasten.”
“First,” says he, “let me doctor your foot. We have still a quarter of an hour. I waked you in advance of the time so that I might be able to minister to your hurt. It may be that you’ll have to use that foot whether it pain you or no.”
“I’ll make shift,” says I, all impatient now that I knew Alison had not forgotten me. I was anxious to proceed to our next movement, but Wiggleskirk made me sit down while he rubbed his balm of Gilead into my leg. He busied himself in this fashion for some minutes, and then proceeded to bandage my ankle and foot with linen swathes. “There,” says he at last. “Now stand up, master, and see if you cannot use your foot a little.”
Now, whether it was the healing powers of Merciful’s ointment, or my own excitement at the thought of regaining my freedom that worked such wonders in me, I don’t know, but whatever it was I found on putting my foot to the ground that I could walk with some little difficulty. There was still much stiffness and discomfort in my foot, but the pain had abated in marvellous fashion.
“Thou art a very miracle-monger,” says I. “Come, what do we turn to next?”
“Have patience,” says he. “There’s much at stake.” He opened the door of the cottage and looked forth. The moon was then dipping into a bank of cloud. “Now,” says he, “I think we may venture,” and he beckoned me to follow him. We left the cottage, and turning the corner crept along behind the hedgerow. For fifty yards I contrived to amble along, but then the pain returned, and I was forced to call a halt. “Pain or no pain,” says Merciful, “we must onward,” and he drew my arm within his and supported me. Soon we came to a little grove of trees. “Here are two men with four horses,” he whispers in my ear. “Ask no question of them—all you have to do is to mount and ride. I shall be at your side, and we are going to your cousin.”
We were now close to the horses, and one of the men, coming forward, assisted Merciful to lift me into the saddle. “All clear,” says Merciful, and we set out across the fields, the three men closely surrounding me. One of the strange men led the way, and I observed that he was careful to keep clear of the town. For some time I was not sure as to the direction we were following, but after skirting the fields that lie between Tanshelf and Mill Hill we eventually came out on the Barnsdale road, and ere long I saw the top of the old manor rising up in the moonlight.
“Surely we cannot be going there!” I thought. But when we came to the corner of the village street our leader turned his horse, and in a few minutes they were assisting me to dismount in the courtyard. “Well, this,” thinks I, “is the strangest adventure,” but I said naught. The men tied their horses to the rings at the mounting-stone, and Merciful Wiggleskirk gave me his arm. And then all four of us were at the porch, and the door of the great kitchen opened, and there stood Alison, holding a lamp above her head, just as she had stood when I and the Stirks came to warn her of her danger but a few nights before. I stared at her as she looked at us and was amazed. Her eyes were bright, there was the rarest colour in her cheeks, she had never looked so handsome, I swear, but there was something in her face that I had never seen there before. It was excitement, apprehension, fear—I know not what; but when her eyes fell on me it vanished. She gave me one swift look, and then turned into the kitchen. The two strangers followed her close, with me and Wiggleskirk in attendance, and as we came into the light the foremost of them threw aside the cloak that had so effectively concealed him from me. It was Anthony Dacre!
I looked from him to her. She stood, proud and haughty by the hearth, and gave no more heed to me than if I had been a stone. Anthony Dacre spoke, setting his eyes on her boldly.