In vain the sexton, whom he nearly overthrew in his career, called after him to halt. He sped like a bolt from the bow.
"May the devil break his neck!" cried Peter, as he saw him dash through the brook; "could he not let them alone?"
"This must not be," said Luke; "know you whose carriage it is?"
"It is a shrine that holds the jewel that should be dearest in your eyes," returned Peter; "haste, and arrest the spoiler's hand."
"Whom do you mean?" asked Luke.
"Eleanor Mowbray," replied Peter. "She is there. To the rescue—away."
"Eleanor Mowbray!" echoed Luke—"and Sybil?——"
At this instant a pistol-shot was heard.
"Will you let murder be done, and upon your cousin?" cried Peter, with a bitter look. "You are not what I took you for."
Luke answered not, but, swift as the hound freed from the leash, darted in the direction of the carriage.