'No, no, my lamb; he ain't hurt; he's safe enow; only he must be off for a time out o' this. Master Charlie has done for the "old fox," Mistress Deborah!' and Jordan began to chuckle triumphantly. Deborah laughed too, aloud. Marjory looked on scared and scandalised.
'Oh, am I mad?' quoth Deborah, as she started up and began to pace the stone hall like a wild creature. 'Am I mad, that I care not for bloodshed, or that old man's hereafter, or anything, so long as I get freedom? Free! free!' she cried aloud in ecstasy, as she ran from one window to another laughing wildly; and then, while the two old servants stood half-aghast, she sped away into the open air, into the sun—and liberty! There, alone, on the green turf, under the waving trees, under the blue and boundless sky; where chased the little white clouds like winged spirits; while through all the beautiful demesne, where the birds were singing melodiously, and all nature was glad, Deborah Fleming wept her wild heart calm.
But Mistress Fleming? Young Mistress Margaret Fleming? She shed not a tear that day. With a heart relieved of a mighty weight, yet overcharged with anxiety, love, and fear, she watched till darkness fell, ever thinking of Deborah's wild and radiant face, till, late on in the night, or rather early morning, tidings were sent her of her love.
And where was Charlie Fleming then? Far, far away—hunted by the dogs of vengeance and the law. Mounted on his good bay horse, he passed through Enderby that night, in his wild flight; and as he fled, looked back, with hand uplifted to the high dim lights of Enderby, and bade it—a long adieu. Turrets, towers, and trees passed from him, like shadows in a dream....
Deborah's trials were not ended. Where was her poor unhappy father? Gone, gone again, ere she knew of it; and she was terribly anxious about him—as to how he would take this news; terribly anxious too, now that reason and calmness had returned to her, about her exiled brother, though Mistress Margaret had told her that he was safe out of England. Thoughts, wild and vague too, of her lover and kinsman haunted her. Where was he? She had enough to drive her distraught; but Deborah possessed a bold heart and iron will, and would not be subdued; and ever the glorious sense of recovered freedom made her heart throb with ecstasy of joy.
Some days after the duel at Lincoln, while Deborah was restlessly pacing the great lonely saloon, the outer bell rang. What now? Tidings good or evil? She felt prepared for anything that might befall. Old Marjory came to the door.
'Master Parry, Mistress Deborah;' and a small thin wizened man entered, with a bag in his hand. Deborah Fleming, from her stately height, looked down on the sly crafty face and shrinking figure, and with a woman's swift instinctive judgment, disliked and distrusted him. She bowed, ever so slightly. He, the cunning man of law and of the world, was half abashed and wholly uneasy at the full gaze bent upon him, and at the girl's bold and easy bearing. She waited for him to speak.
'Mistress Fleming,' he said with a low bow, 'at this sad time I must humbly apologise for this intrusion. I would have spoken with Sir Vincent; but he is away, I find. May I venture then to address his daughter in his stead? For my business, Mistress Fleming, is with you.'
'Certainly. Sit down, Master Parry, and say what you have to say.'
With another low bow he drew up a chair, and placing his hat on the table, and glancing first at the closed door, said in a mysterious tone: 'I come to you, Mistress Fleming, as the bearer of two great good pieces of intelligence; one, I am sure will afford Mistress Fleming's generous heart great joy, and that I will reserve till last.'