“Where are you going?” said Crellock roughly, as prowling about the verandah, in pursuance of a determination to take care that there should be no further interference with his plans, he carefully watched the place, ready to refuse entrance, in Hallam’s name, to every one who came till he had made sure of his prize.

It was very early in the morning, and he had come suddenly upon Thisbe, dressed for going out, and with a bundle under her arm.

“Into town,” she said sharply.

“What for?”

“To stay.”

“It’s a lie!” he said. “You are going to take a message to that parson, or the lieutenant. You have a letter.”

“No, I haven’t,” said Thisbe, looking harder than ever.

“What’s in that bundle?”

“Clothes. Want to see ’em? You can look.”

“Come, no nonsense, Thisbe! You don’t like me, I know.”

“I hate the sight of you!” said the woman stoutly. “So you may; but look here, you may as well understand that in future I shall be master here, and for your own sake you had better be friends. Now then, where are you going?”

“Into town, I tell you; and I shall send for my box. It’s corded up in my room.”

“Why, what do you mean?” he said.

“That I’m going, and I’m not coming back; and you two may drink yourselves to death as soon as you like.”

She brushed by him, and before he had recovered from his surprise, she was going down the path towards the gate.

A thought struck Crellock, and he ran upstairs to the room Thisbe had occupied, and, sure enough, there was the big chest she had brought with her, corded up tightly, and with a direction-card tacked on, addressed, “Miss Thisbe King. To be called for.”

“So much the better,” he said joyously; “that woman had some influence with Mrs Hallam, and might have been unpleasant.”

That day he went down the town to one of his haunts, and after a good deal of search found out that Thisbe was in the place, and had taken a small cottage in one of the outskirts. So, satisfied with his discovery, he returned, to find a man with a pony and dray on his way up to the house, where he claimed the box for its owner, and soon after bore it away.

Hallam was in his room, half dozing by the open window, ready to give him a friendly nod as he entered, threw down his riding-whip, and took up his usual position, with his back to the fireplace.

“Well,” said Hallam, “what news?”

“Oh, she has gone, sure enough.”

“So much the better,” said Hallam. “I always hated that woman.”

“What news have you?”

“None at all.”

“Have you told your wife that I wish the marriage to take place at once?”

“No.”

“Then go and tell her.”

Hallam shifted uneasily in his chair, but did not stir. “Look here!” cried Crellock fiercely, “do you want me to go through all our old arguments again? There it is – the marriage or the gang.”

“You would have to go too!” said Hallam angrily.

“Oh, no! Don’t make a mistake. I did not bring over the plunder; and not a single note you have changed can be brought home to me. Your leg is in the noose, or in the irons again, if you like it better. No nonsense! Go and see her while I prepare Julia.” Hallam rose, went to the cupboard, poured a quantity of brandy into a tumbler, gulped it down, and went to the drawing-room. Mrs Hallam, who was looking white and hollow of cheek, was seated alone, with Julia, half-way down the garden slope, gazing pensively towards the town.

Mrs Hallam rose quickly, as if in alarm, but Hallam caught her hand, and then softly closed the window, in spite of her weak struggle, as she saw Crellock crossing the garden to where Julia was standing.

“Now, no nonsense!” he said. “There, sit down.”

Mrs Hallam took the chair he led her to, and gazed up at him as if fascinated by his eyes.

“I may as well come to the point at once,” said Hallam. “You know what I said the other night about Crellock?”

“Yes,” she replied hoarsely.

“Well, he wishes it to take place at once, so we may as well get it over.”

“It is impossible!”

“It is not impossible!” he said, flashing into anger. “It is necessary for my comfort and position that the wedding should take place at once.”

“No, no, Robert!” she cried in a last appeal; “for the sake of our old love, give up this terrible thought. If you have any love left for me spare our child this degradation!”

She threw herself upon her knees and clasped his hands.

“Don’t be foolish and hysterical,” he said coldly; “and listen to reason, unless you want to make me angry with you. Get up!”

She obeyed him without a word.

“Now, listen. I shouldn’t have chosen Crellock for her husband, but he is very fond of her, and I cannot afford to offend him, so it must be.”

“It would kill her!” panted Mrs Hallam. “Our child! Robert – husband – my own love! don’t, don’t drive me to do this!”

“I’m going to drive you to obey me in this sensible matter, which is for the good of all. There, you see the girl is listening to him quietly enough.”

“It would kill her! For the sake of all the old times do not drive me to this – my husband!” pleaded Mrs Hallam again.

“You will prepare her for it; you will tell her it must be as soon as the arrangements can be made; you will stop all communications with Bayle and old Sir Gordon, and do exactly as I bid you. Look here, once let Julia see that there is no other course, and she will be quiet and sensible enough.”

“Once more!” cried Mrs Hallam passionately, “spare me this, Robert, and I will be your patient, forgiving wife to the end! I tell you it would break her heart!”

“You understand!” he said. “There, look at her!” he cried, pointing. “Why, the girl loves him after all.”

Julia was coming slowly up the path, with Crellock bending down and talking to her earnestly, till he reached the window, which Hallam unfastened, shrinking back and leaving the room, as if he could not face his child.

As Julia entered, Crellock seemed to have no wish to encounter Mrs Hallam, and he drew back and went round the house to the study window, where he stopped leaning on the verandah-rail and gazing in, as Hallam stood at the cupboard, pouring himself out some more brandy.

He had the glass in one hand, the bottle in the other, when he caught sight of the figure at the window, and with a start and cry of horror he dropped bottle and glass.

“Bah! where is your nerve, man?” cried Crellock with a laugh of contempt. “Did you think it was a sergeant with a file of men to fetch you away?”

“You – you startled me,” cried Hallam angrily. “All that brandy gone!”

“A good thing too! You’ve had plenty. Well, have you told her?”

“Yes.”

“What did she say?”

“The old thing.”

“But you made her understand?”

“Yes. What did Julia say?”

“Oh, very little. Told me she could never love me, of course; but she’s a clever, sensible girl.”

“And she has consented?”

“Well, not exactly; but it’s all right. There will be no trouble there.”

Meanwhile Julia had gone straight to her mother and knelt down at her feet, resting her hands upon her knees, in her old child-like position, and gazing up in the pale, wasted face for some minutes without speaking.

“There is no hope, mother,” she said at last; “it must be.”

Mrs Hallam sat without replying for some minutes; then, taking her child’s face between her thin hands she bent down and pressed her lips upon the white forehead.

“Julie,” she whispered, “I was wrong. I thought you loved Mr Eaton, and I believed that if you married him it would have cut this terrible knot.”

Julia smiled softly, and with her eyes half closed. There was a curious, rapt expression in her sweet face, as if she were dreaming of some impossible joy. Then, as if rousing herself to action, she gave her dark curls a shake, and said quietly:

“If I had loved Mr Eaton it would only have cut the knot as far as I was concerned. Mother, he would have broken my heart.”

“No, no; he loved you dearly.”

“But he would have taken me from you. No: I did not love him, but I liked him very much. But there, we must think and be strong, for there is no hope, dear mother, now. You are right. And you will be firm and strong?”

“Yes,” said Mrs Hallam, rising. “For your sake, my child – my child!”

Volume Four – Chapter Fifteen.
Crellock on Guard

That night, after the roughly-prepared meal that topic the place of dinner, and at which mother and daughter resumed their places as of old, Hallam sat for some time with Crellock talking in a low tone, while Mrs Hallam returned to the drawing-room with Julia, both looking perfectly calm and resigned to their fate.

At last Hallam rose, and followed by Crellock, crossed the hall and opened the drawing-room door, where his wife and child were seated with the light of the candles shining softly upon their bended heads.

“It will be all right,” he muttered; and he turned round and faced Crellock, who smiled and nodded.

“Nothing like a little firmness,” he said, smiling.

Then Crellock went into the verandah to smoke his cigar and play the part of watch-dog in case of some interruption to his plans; and, while Hallam employed himself in his old fashion, drinking himself drunk in the house of Alcohol his god, the dark calm evening became black night, and a moist, soft wind from the Pacific sighed gently among the trees.

Crellock walked round the house time after time, peering in at the windows, and each time he looked there was the heavy stolid face of Hallam staring before him at vacancy; on the other side of the house Julia gazing up into her mother’s face as she knelt at her feet.

It must have been ten o’clock when, as Crellock once more made his round, he saw that Hallam was asleep, and that Mrs Hallam had taken up the candle still burning, and with Julia holding her hand, was looking round the room as if for a last good-night.

Then together they went to the door, hand in hand; the door closed; the light shone at the staircase window, then in their bedroom, where he watched it burn for about a quarter of an hour before it was extinguished, and all was dark.

“I shan’t feel satisfied till I have her safe,” he said, as he walked slowly back to his old look-out that commanded the road.

The wind came in stronger gusts now, for a few minutes, and then seemed to die quite away, while the clouds that overspread the sky grew so dense that it was hard to distinguish the trees and bushes a dozen yards from where he stood.

He finished his cigar, thinking out his plans the while, and at last coming to the conclusion that it was an unnecessary task this watching, he was about to make one more turn round the verandah, and then enter by the window and go to bed, when he fancied he heard a door close, as if blown by the wind that was once more sighing about the place.

“Just woke up, I suppose,” he said, and he walked towards the study window and looked in.

Hallam had not moved, but was sleeping heavily in his old position.

Crellock listened again, but all was perfectly still. It could not have been fancy. Certainly he had heard a door bang softly, and the sound seemed to come from this direction.

He stood thinking, and then went round and tried the front door.

“Fast.”

He walked round to the back door, following the verandah all the way, and found that door also fast.

“I couldn’t have been mistaken,” he said, as he listened again.

Once more the wind was sighing loudly about the place, but the noise was not repeated, and he walked on to the dining-room window; but as he laid his hand upon the glass door and thrust it open, a current of air rushed in, and there was the same sound: a door blew to with a slight bang.

Crellock closed and fastened the glass door as he stepped out and ran quickly round to the drawing-room, where it was as he suspected: the glass door similar to that he had just left was open, and blew to and fro.

“There’s something wrong,” he said excitedly, his suspicions being aroused; and, dashing in, he upset a chair in crossing the room, and it fell with a crash, but he hurried on into the hall, through to the study, and caught Hallam by the arm.

“Wake up!” he said excitedly. “Hallam! Wake up, man.”

He had to shake him heavily before the drink stupefaction passed off, and then Hallam stood trembling and haggard, trying to comprehend his companion’s words.

“Wrong?” he said. “Wrong? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know yet. Look sharp! Run up to your wife’s room. Take the candle. Quick, man; are you asleep?”

In his dazed state Hallam staggered, and his hand trembled so that he could hardly keep the light anything like steady. There was the knowledge, though faintly grasped, that something was terribly wrong. He gathered that from his companion’s excited manner, and, stumbling on into the hall, blundered noisily up the stairs while Crellock stood breathing hard and listening.

“Here, Millicent! Julie!” he cried hoarsely; “what’s the matter?”

Crellock heard the lock handle turn, and the door thrown open so violently that it struck against the wall, but there was no reply from the voices of frightened women.

“Do you hear? Milly – Julie! Why don’t you answer?” came from above, and Crellock’s harsh breathing became like the panting of some wild beast.

For a few moments there was absolute silence; then the sound of stumbling, heavy steps, and Hallam came out on to the landing.

“Steve!” he cried excitedly, perfectly sober now, “what is it? What does it mean? They’ve gone!”

“I knew it,” cried Crellock with a furious cry. “I might have seen it if I had not been a fool. Come down quick! They’ve not gone far.”

Candle in hand, Hallam came staggering down the stairs with his eyes staring and his face blotched with patches of white.

“They’ve gone,” he stammered hoarsely. “What for? Where have they gone?”

“Out into the dark night,” cried Crellock furiously. “There is only one way that they could go, and we must have them before they reach the town.”

“Town!” faltered Hallam; “town!” for in the horror of his waking and the conscience hauntings of the moment, he seemed to see two ghastly white faces looking up at him from the black waters of the harbour.

“Yes, come along, follow me as quickly as you can,” roared Crellock; and going swiftly through the dining-room he crossed the verandah and dashed out into the thick darkness that seemed to rise up as a protecting wall on behalf of those whom he pursued.

Volume Four – Chapter Sixteen.
The Flight

“I am so weak, my child,” sighed Mrs Hallam, “that my heart fails me. What shall I do?”

Julia stood over her dressed for flight, and a chill of despair seized her.

“Oh, mother, try – try,” she whispered.

“I am trying, Julie. I am fighting so hard, but you cannot realise the step I am trying to take; you cannot see it, my child, as it is spread before me.”

“Let us stay then,” whispered Julie, “and to-morrow I will appeal to Sir Gordon to come to our help.”

“No,” said Mrs Hallam, firmly, as if the words of her child had given her strength, “we can ask help of no one in such a strait as this, Julie; the act must be mine and mine alone; but now the time has come, my child, I feel that it is too much.”

“Mother!” sobbed Julie, “that man horrifies me. You heard all that my father said. I would sooner die than become his wife.”

Mrs Hallam caught her arm with a sharp grip, and remained silent for a few moments. “Yes,” she said at last, “and much as I love you, my own, I would sooner see you dead than married to such a man as he. You have given me the courage I failed in, my darling. For myself, I would live and bear until the end; but I am driven to it – I am driven to it. Come.”

They were standing in the dark, and now for the time being Mrs Hallam seemed transformed. Gathering her cloak about her, she went quickly to the door and listened, and then turned and whispered to Julia.

“Come at once,” she said. “Follow me down.” Julia drew a long breath and followed her, trembling, the boards of the lightly-built house cracking loudly as she passed quickly to the stairs. And again in the silence and darkness these cracked as they passed down.

In the hall Mrs Hallam hesitated for a moment, and then, putting her lips to Julia’s ear:

“Stop!” she whispered.

Julia stood listening, and with her eyes strained towards where a light shone beneath the ill-fitting study-door from which, in the stillness, the heavy stertorous breathing of Hallam could be heard. She could hear, too, the faint rustle of Mrs Hallam’s dress as she paced along the hall; and as Julia gazed in the direction she had taken, the light that streamed from beneath, and some faint rays from the side, showed indistinctly a misty figure which sank down on its knees and remained for a few moments.

The silence was awful to the trembling girl, who could not repress a faint cry as she heard a loud cough coming from beyond the dining-room.

But she, too, drew her breath hard, and set her teeth as if the nearness of her enemy provoked her to desperate resistance, and she stood waiting there firmly, but wondering the while whether they would be able to escape or be stopped in the act of flight by Crellock, whom she knew to be watching there.

She dare not call, though she felt that her mother was again overcome by the terrors of the step they had resolved to take, and the moments seemed interminable before there was a change in the light beneath the door, and a faint rustle mingled with the heavy breathing. Then her hand was clasped by one like ice in its coldness, and, as if repeating the prayer she had been uttering, Julia heard her mother say in a faint whisper:

“It is for her sake – for hers alone.”

Julia drew her into the drawing-room as they had planned, and closed the door. Then Mrs Hallam seemed to breathe more freely.

“The weakness has passed,” she said softly. “We must lose no time.”

They crossed the room carefully to where a dim light showed the French window to be, and Mrs Hallam laid her hand upon it firmly, and turned the fastening after slipping the bolt.

“Keep a good heart, my darling,” she said. “You are not afraid?”

“Not of our journey, mother,” said Julia in agitated tones; “but of – a listener.”

“Hist!” whispered Mrs Hallam, drawing back; and the window which she had opened swung to with a faint click, as the firm pace of Crellock was heard coming along the verandah; and as they stood there in the darkness they could see the dim figure pass the window.

Had he stretched forth a hand, he would have felt the glass door yield, and have entered and found them there; and, knowing this, they stood listening to the beating of their hearts till the figure passed on and they heard the step of the self-constituted sentry grow faint on the other side of the house.

“Julie, are you ready?”

“Yes, mother; let us go – anywhere, so that I may not see that man again.”

Mrs Hallam uttered a sigh of relief, for her child’s words had supplied her once more with the power that was failing.

“It is for her sake,” she muttered again. Then, in a low whisper: “Quick! your hand. Come.” And they stepped out into the verandah, drew the door to without daring to stop to catch it, and the next minute they were threading their way amongst the trees of the garden, and making for the gate.

The darkness was now intense, and though the faint twinkling of lights showed them the direction of the town, they had not gone far before they found themselves astray from the path, and after wandering here and there for a few minutes, Mrs Hallam paused in dread, for she found that there was now another enemy in her way upon which she had not counted.

She spoke very calmly, though, as Julia uttered a gasp.

“The wind is rising,” she said, “and it will soon grow lighter. Let us keep on.”

They walked on slowly and cautiously in and out among the trees of what was, in the darkness, a complete wilderness. At times they were struggling through bushes that impeded their progress, and though time after time the track seemed to be found, they were deceived. It was as if Nature were fighting against them to keep them within reach of Hallam and his friend, and, though they toiled on, a second hour had elapsed and found them still astray.

But now, as they climbed a steep slope, the wind came with a gust, the clouds were chased before it, there was the glint of a star or two, and Mrs Hallam uttered an exclamation.

“There!” she cried, “to the left. I can see the lights now.”

Catching Julia’s hand more firmly, she hurried on, for the night was now comparatively light, but neither uttered a word of their thoughts as they gave a frightened glance back at a dim object on the hill behind, for they awoke to the fact that they had been wandering round and about the hill and gully, returning on their steps, and were not five hundred yards away from their starting-point.

At the end of a quarter of an hour the stars were out over half the vault of heaven, and to their great joy the path was found – the rough track leading over the unoccupied land to the town.

“Courage! my child,” whispered Mrs Hallam; “another hour or two and we shall be there.”

“I am trying to be brave, dear,” whispered back Julia as the track descended into another gully; “but this feeling of dread seems to chill me, and – oh! listen!”

Mrs Hallam stopped, and plainly enough behind them there was the sound of bushes rustling; but the sound ceased directly.

“Some animal – that is all,” said Mrs Hallam, and they passed on.

Once more they heard the sound, and then, as they were ascending a little eminence before descending another of the undulations of the land, there came the quick beat of feet, and mother and daughter had joined in a convulsive grasp.

“We are followed,” panted Mrs Hallam. “We must hide.”

As she spoke they were on the summit of the slope, with their figures against the sky-line to any one below, and in proof of this there was a shout from a short distance below, and a cry of “Stop!”

“Crellock!” muttered Mrs Hallam, and she glanced from side to side for a place of concealment, but only to see that the attempt to hide would be only folly.

“Can you run, Julie?” she whispered.

For answer Julia started off, and for about a hundred yards they ran down the slope, and then stopped, panting. They could make no further effort save that of facing their pursuer, who dashed down to them breathless.

“A pretty foolish trick,” he cried. “Mercy I found you gone, and came. What did you expect would become of you out here in the night?”

“Loose my hand,” cried Julia angrily; “I will not come back.”

“Indeed, but you will, little wifie. There, it’s of no use to struggle; you are mine, and must.”

“Julia, hold by me,” cried Mrs Hallam frantically. “Help!”

“Hah!”

That ejaculation was from Crellock, for as Mrs Hallam’s appeal for help rang out amongst the trees of the gully into which they had descended, there was the dull sound of a heavy blow, and their assailant fell with a crash amongst the low growth of scrub.

“This way,” said a familiar voice. “Do you want to join Thisbe King?”

“Yes, yes,” cried Julia, sobbing now; “but how did you know?”

“How did I know!” was the reply, half sadly, half laughingly. “Oh, I have played the spy: waiting till you wanted help.”

“Christie Bayle!” wailed Mrs Hallam; “my friend in need.”

He did not answer. He hardly heard her words as Mrs Hallam staggered on by his side, for two little hands were clinging to his arm, Julia’s head was resting against him, as she nestled closer and closer, and his heart beat madly, for it seemed to him as if it was in his breast that Julia Hallam would seek for safety in her time of need.