The fickle beauty of the day had not lasted. Clouds went driving by; that much could be distinguished by gazing up through the narrow space which weeds and leaves left free. And presently it began to rain, and the moaning wind grew shrill, and rushed with strange and mournful dissonance through the recesses of the cavern. ‘It is all my fault—mine!’ sobbed Lady Alice, nestling at Ethel’s side. ‘I would not say a word, before starting, about the Hunger Hole, for fear the elders should object; and now I am caught in my own trap. It’s very hard on you though, Miss Gray.’
Ethel bore up bravely, but she was far from feeling the calm that she affected. Perhaps Lady Alice was too positive in her conviction of the hopelessness of their condition; but if the attention of the seekers was diverted into false channels, who could tell what might result before a happy accident should bring aid? It was for her pupil that she feared, not for herself. In the event of long detention in that wretched place, a large-eyed, excitable slip of a girl, of high spirit but delicate temperament, could scarcely be expected to endure hardships which Ethel, in the bloom of perfect health, might be able to support. It was growing late, and perceptibly colder. Night would be upon them soon, and then——
And then the morrow would dawn laggingly, and hope would leap up a little at the sight of welcome daylight, and flag and droop as the hours went by and relief came not. That Lady Alice could live through a second night in that chill atmosphere of the cave, and without sustenance, Ethel did not believe.
‘How cold it strikes!’ said the young girl almost peevishly, as she shivered and pressed closer to Ethel. ‘I am afraid though,’ she added, more gently after a while, ‘that we shall be colder yet before the end of this.’
As the moaning wind swept by, and the patter of the rain that lashed the outer walls of the grotto grew louder, Ethel listened, with a sense of hearing which her anxiety had sharpened, for any sound that might indicate that help was near. But no! There was nothing to be distinguished save the beating of the rain, the mournful cadence of the wind, and the dull regular drip of the water that trickled from the spring, and fell deep down, to the hidden waters at the bottom of the abyss.
Was that the tread of a horse? Fancy plays strange tricks with those who watch, but surely that sound resembled nothing so much as the quick beat of hoofs upon grass or heather. Then the sound ceased, and a long tantalising pause succeeded. Ethel began to imagine that her senses must have played her false. No; for the rattling of loose stones, disturbed by a human foot, at the outer portal of the Hunger Hole, came at last to confirm the first impression that a horse’s tramp had really sounded near, and then a man’s form darkened the doorway between the two caves.
‘Alice, look up! We are found!’ cried Ethel, starting from the rocky bench; and almost at the same instant a voice, the very sound of which sent the blood madly coursing through her veins, exclaimed: ‘There is some one here then. Alice—Miss Gray, can it be you? Ah! I see how it is,’ added the speaker, as his further progress was barred by the gaping chasm, while his foot struck against a fragment of the broken bridge, yet clinging to its rusted holdfast in the rock. The voice was Lord Harrogate’s.
‘What good angel sent you to our help, brother?’ said young Lady Alice, laughing and crying all at once, now that the tension of her overstrained nerves had slackened.
‘She is a moorland angel, and here she is to answer for herself,’ returned the young man, as Betty Mudge, hot and panting, appeared beside him in the entrance of the cavern. ‘This good girl must have wings, I think, as well as a sharp pair of eyes. She almost kept up with my horse as we crossed the moorland, avoiding Bitternley Swamp, where Bay Middleton could never have made his way over the treacherous peat-hags. I can guess now how this awkward business happened.’
‘But how to get at you, now I have found you!’ added Lord Harrogate in some perplexity, after a pause. It was provoking, to be baffled by the eleven feet of sheer black emptiness that lay between the wet outer grotto and the dry inner compartment of the cave.