“You will not send me back to him!”
“No.”
“Let me be your servant—anything; do not send me away. I will go with you anywhere. I will go with you to the end of the world.”
So the dawn came for them, while in Pevensel Dan and old Isaac had been toiling through the night. They had taken the treasure-chest from the Monk’s Grave and buried it deep in the woods towards Holy Cross. They knew that Bess had fled to Rodenham, for Solomon had followed her through the woods, and had met a carter on the road who had passed the girl on the heath. A laborer had seen a woman climb the palings of the park, and Solomon had tramped home to his brother with the news. Isaac had sworn that Dan’s wife should be recovered, but first they had buried the treasure in a place unknown to Bess.
XL
For an hour Jeffray walked alone in the garden that morning, thinking over the future and his duty to Bess. He had sworn to his own heart that she should not fall again into her husband’s hands, and yet in the making of this vow he had taken a grave step on the path of life. Jeffray was in no temper to be scared by calumny or slander. He had fought his fight and proved his power to act according to his conscience. His thoughts were not for himself that morning, but for the woman whose life was pledged to him for love.
About ten o’clock he left the garden for the library, and, opening his bureau, wrote a long letter to his attorney at Lincoln’s Inn. Then he unlocked an old dower-chest that stood beside the fireplace, and lifted out the strong-box where he kept what money he required. Wilson, who was smoking at the window, watched him counting out the gold pieces and the notes upon the table. The lad was so serious and intent on it that the painter realized how grimly he was in earnest.
“Three hundred guineas, Dick—three hundred guineas. Enough powder and shot to serve for the time being.”
Wilson took his pipe-stem from between his teeth.
“Plenty of hard cash, sir,” he said. “What are you going to do with it? Hire some sly fox of a lawyer?”