Great Britain -- History -- George III, 1760-1820 -- Fiction; Mystery fiction
He made no reply. He dared not, for fear that it should be an angry
retort; and content that he had certainly for the present frustrated
Rockley's machinations, he walked to his side, and, seeing that his
temple was bleeding, he knelt down by him, took out his handkerchief,
and bound up the cut, furtively watching Mellersh the while as he stood
by the other prostrate figure on the turf.
Linnell longed to go to her and kneel there, holding her little hand in
his, but he was too heartsore; and, telling himself that there was more
dignity in keeping aloof and playing the manly part of ceasing to care
for one whom he believed to be unworthy of his love, even if he rendered
help when there was need, he contented himself with deputing the care he
would gladly have bestowed to another.
It had grown darker during the past few minutes, a thicker cloud having
veiled the sky, when, as Linnell rose from where he knelt, he heard a
sigh which went through him.
"She is coming round," he muttered. "Poor girl! Poor, weak, foolish
girl! I--"
"Why, Dick!" cried Mellersh in a sharp, angry voice. "Come here!"
"What is it? There is no danger, is there?" cried Linnell, hastening
across the road.
"Danger? No," cried Mellersh angrily. "Whom do you suppose we have
stopped here?"
"Whom? Miss Denville, of course, and--Good Heavens!--Miss Dean!"
"What is it? Where am I? You--Mr Linnell!--Colonel Mellersh!" said
Cora confusedly, as she struggled up into a sitting position.
"At your service, madam," said Mellersh, with a peculiar bitterness in
his voice.
"What has happened?" cried Cora, holding her hand to her head, and
staring wildly round till her eyes lighted upon the broken chaise.
"Oh!"
She said no more, but struggled to her feet, turned giddy, and would
have fallen, had not Mellersh caught her arm and supported her.
It was evident that she had realised her position in that one glance,
and she seemed to shudder slightly. At the end of a few minutes,
though, she recovered, and, shrinking from Mellersh, she looked round.
"Give me that cloak," she said calmly. "It is cold."
Linnell, who was half-stunned by the discovery, hurriedly stooped and
picked up the cloak, spreading it rather clumsily and placing it upon
her shoulders.
"Thank you," she said coldly; and there was an awkward pause, during
which Mellersh walked to and fro with the look of a caged wild beast.
"Well?" said Cora suddenly. "Why are we waiting, Colonel Mellersh?
Will you kindly see me home?"
"See you home?" he replied.
"Where is that man--Major Rockley?" cried Cora hastily.
"I am afraid he is incapacitated for further service, Miss Dean," said
Mellersh coldly. "The accident has prevented him from carrying out--
shall I say your wishes?"
"What?" she replied. "Do you think I--! Pah!"
She turned her back upon him angrily.
"Mr Linnell," she said, "you will not insult me if I ask you to see me
safely home, even if I do not enter into any explanations. Let us go at
once."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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