Gaffin was now constantly at the mill, and the steward knowing the man’s desperate character, might justly have feared that he would revenge himself on his head. He was one evening returning home later than usual on his steady cob, when passing through a copse not far from the Texford gate, his horse pricked up its ears, and moved to the other side of the road, as if wishing to avoid an object it had discovered. Never since he bestrode it had it been guilty of shying.
“What is the matter, old steady?” he said, patting his steed’s neck.
Suddenly the question was answered by the appearance of mad Sal’s tall figure emerging from the copse.
“Old man,” she said, “I come to warn you that danger threatens your life. You are kind and generous to those in distress. You have cared for and pitied me while others mocked and scorned me, and refused the bread I asked. He who has turned me from his doors with curses and scorn when I asked a crust at his hands, is plotting the destruction of you and those you serve. He thinks that he has been unobserved, but I have dodged his footsteps when he knew not I was near. I have been within the walls of his abode when, had he discovered my presence, he would have strangled me without compunction. I tell you this, lest you think the poor mad creature, as people call her, is talking folly; but I charge you, as you value your own life, and the honour and the liberty of those you serve, to let the officers of justice lay hands on him before he has done the mischief he contemplates. I leave your master to his doom. From me he deserves no favour, but for his hapless wife and daughter I feel as woman feels for woman, as they, too, have lost him they love in the cruel salt sea, salt sea. Be warned, old man, be warned.”
Before even the steward could speak mad Sal had retreated within the shelter of the copse. He had, as she acknowledged, compassionated her forlorn condition, assisted her with food and money; indeed, through his means, and that of other charitable people in the neighbourhood, she had been enabled to exist. He was, therefore, convinced that she had not warned him without cause, though he wished that she had given him more exact information on which to proceed.
He hurried home determined to communicate with Mr Shallard the next morning, and to obtain a sufficient guard at once for Texford, in case Gaffin should really venture to attack it.
Each morning May rose with the hopes that a letter would come from Harry, and not till the postman had passed did her fond heart grow sick again with hope deferred.
The usual hour of his coming had arrived, and as she heard his step on the gravel walk she hastened out to meet him. He held a letter in his hand. It was directed to Miss Pemberton. She gazed at the handwriting.
“Yes, yes it is from him, he is alive,” she exclaimed, with an hysterical cry as she sprang up the steps, and flew into the drawing-room.
Fortunately Miss Jane made her appearance with the required sum to pay the postman.