‘With all my heart.’
‘I must trust you, Martin, – trust you.’
Then he said no more, and sank back into half-consciousness.
‘How much farther?’ asked the man who walked. ‘I call this a cursed long half-hour. To women time is nought; but every moment to me is of consequence. I must push on.’
‘You have just promised not to desert your friend, your brother.’
‘It pacified him, and sent him to sleep again.’
‘It was a promise.’
‘You promise a child the moon when it cries, but it never gets it. How much farther?’
‘We are at Morwell.’
They issued from the lane, and were before the old gatehouse of Morwell; a light shone through the window over the entrance door.
‘Old Davy is up there, ill. He cannot come down. The gate is open; we will go in,’ said Barbara.
‘I am glad we are here,’ said the man called Martin; ‘now we must bestir ourselves.’
Thoughtlessly he struck the horse with his whip, and the beast started, nearly precipitating the rider to the ground. The man on it groaned. The injured man was lifted down.
‘Eve!’ said Barbara, ‘run in and tell Jane to come out, and see that a bed be got ready at once, in the lower room.’
Presently out came a buxom womanservant, and with her assistance the man was taken off the horse and carried indoors.
A bedroom was on the ground-floor opening out of the hall. Into this Eve led the way with a light, and the patient was laid on a bed hastily made ready for his reception. His coat was removed, and Barbara examined the head.
‘Here is a gash to the bone,’ she said, ‘and much blood is flowing from it. Jane, come with me, and we will get what is necessary.’
Martin was left alone in the room with Eve and the man called Jasper. Martin moved, so that the light fell over her; and he stood contemplating her with wonder and admiration. She was marvellously beautiful, slender, not tall, and perfectly proportioned. Her hair was of the richest auburn, full of gloss and warmth. She had the exquisite complexion that so often accompanies hair of this colour. Her eyes were large and blue. The pure oval face was set on a delicate neck, round which hung a kerchief, which she now untied and cast aside.
‘How lovely you are!’ said Martin. A rich blush overspread her cheek and throat, and tinged her little ears. Her eyes fell. His look was bold.
Then, almost unconscious of what he was doing, as an act of homage, Martin removed his slouched hat, and for the first time Eve saw what he was like, when she timidly raised her eyes. With surprise she saw a young face. The man with the imperious manner was not much above twenty, and was remarkably handsome. He had dark hair, a pale skin, very large, soft dark eyes, velvety, enclosed within dark lashes. His nose was regular, the nostrils delicately arched and chiselled. His lip was fringed with a young moustache. There was a remarkable refinement and tenderness in the face. Eve could hardly withdraw her wondering eyes from him. Such a face she had never seen, never even dreamed of as possible. Here was a type of masculine beauty that transcended all her imaginings. She had met very few young men, and those she did meet were somewhat uncouth, addicted to the stable and the kennel, and redolent of both, more at home following the hounds or shooting than associating with ladies. There was so much of innocent admiration in the gaze of simple Eve that Martin was flattered, and smiled.
‘Beauty!’ he said, ‘who would have dreamed to have stumbled on the likes of you on the moor? Nay, rather let me bless my stars that I have been vouchsafed the privilege of meeting and speaking with a real fairy. It is said that you must never encounter a fairy without taking of her a reminiscence, to be a charm through life.’
Suddenly he put his hand to her throat. She had a delicate blue riband about it, disclosed when she cast aside her kerchief. He put his finger between the riband and her throat, and pulled.
‘You are strangling me!’ exclaimed Eve, shrinking away, alarmed at his boldness.
‘I care not,’ he replied, ‘this I will have.’
He wrenched at and broke the riband, and then drew it from her neck. As he did so a gold ring fell on the floor. He stooped, picked it up, and put it on his little finger.
‘Look,’ said he with a laugh, ‘my hand is so small, my fingers so slim – I can wear this ring.’
‘Give it me back! Let me have it! You must not take it!’ Eve was greatly agitated and alarmed. ‘I may not part with it. It was my mother’s.’
Then, with the same daring insolence with which he had taken the ring, he caught the girl to him, and kissed her.
CHAPTER V.
THE LIMPING HORSE
Eve drew herself away with a cry of anger and alarm, and with sparkling eyes and flushed cheeks. At that moment her sister returned with Jane, and immediately Martin reassumed his hat with broad brim. Barbara did not notice the excitement of Eve; she had not observed the incident, because she entered a moment too late to do so, and no suspicion that the stranger would presume to take such a liberty crossed her mind.
Eve stood back behind the door, with hands on her bosom to control its furious beating, and with head depressed to conceal the heightened colour.
Barbara and the maid stooped over the unconscious man, and whilst Martin held a light, they dressed and bandaged his head.
Presently his eyes opened, a flicker of intelligence passed through them, they rested on Martin; a smile for a moment kindled the face, and the lips moved.
‘He wants to speak to you,’ said Barbara, noticing the direction of the eyes, and the expression that came into them.
‘What do you want, Jasper?’ asked Martin, putting his hand on that of the other.
The candlelight fell on the two hands, and Barbara noticed the contrast. That of Martin was delicate as the hand of a woman, narrow, with taper fingers, and white; that of Jasper was strong, darkened by exposure.
‘Will you be so good as to undress him,’ said Barbara, ‘and put him to bed? My sister will assist me in the kitchen. Jane, if you desire help, is at your service.’
‘Yes, go,’ said Martin, ‘but return speedily, as I cannot stay many minutes.’
Then the girls left the room.
‘I do not want you,’ he said roughly to the serving woman. ‘Take yourself off; when I need you I will call. No prying at the door.’ He went after her, thrust Jane forth and shut the door behind her. Then he returned to Jasper, removed his clothes, somewhat ungently, with hasty hands. When his waistcoat was off, Martin felt in the inner breast-pocket, and drew from it a pocket-book. He opened it, and transferred the contents to his own purse, then replaced the book and proceeded with the undressing.
When Jasper was divested of his clothes, and laid at his ease in the bed, his head propped on pillows, Martin went to the door and called the girls. He was greatly agitated, Barbara observed it. His lower lip trembled. Eve hung back in the kitchen, she could not return.
Martin said in eager tones, ‘I have done for him all I can, now I am in haste to be off.’
‘But,’ remonstrated Barbara, ‘he is your brother.’
‘My brother!’ laughed Martin. ‘He is no relation of mine. He is naught to me and I am naught to him.’
‘You called him your brother.’
‘That was tantamount to comrade. All sons of Adam are brothers, at least in misfortune. I do not even know the fellow’s name.’
‘Why,’ said Barbara, ‘this is very strange. You call him Jasper, and he named you Martin.’
‘Ah!’ said the man hesitatingly,