England -- Fiction; Orphans -- Fiction; Runaway children -- Fiction; Young men -- Fiction
"If I had only been a strong man," I exclaimed passionately. "Oh, Miss
Carr, pray, pray do something," I cried again; "this is horrible. I
cannot bear to see you insulted by that wretch."
"I have decided to do something, Antony," she said in a low voice; and a
faint colour came into her pale cheeks. "He will not be able to force
his way to me again."
"I don't know," I said. "He is a madman. I am sure he had been
drinking to-night."
"No one but a madman would have behaved as he did, Antony," she said.
"But be at rest about me. I have, after a bitter struggle with myself,
decided what to do."
"But you will not go away?" I said.
She shook her head.
"No; my path lies here," she said quietly. "Antony, I want your help
to-morrow."
"Yes: what shall I do?" I asked.
"Will you ask Miss Hallett to come here to me--will you bring her?"
"Bring Linny Hallett here?" I exclaimed in surprise.
"Yes: bring her here," she said softly; and there was a peculiar tone in
her voice as she spoke. "And now about yourself. Do you feel well
enough to go home? Shall one of the servants see you safely back?"
"Oh no," I said; "I am better now. I shall take a cab. But I do not
feel comfortable to leave you alone."
"You need not fear," she said quietly. "The house will be closed as
soon as you leave. To-morrow I shall take steps for my protection."
I left her soon after, thinking about her request, and as far as I could
make out she intended to keep Linny with her, feeling that Lister would
not dare to face her again, when the woman he had sought to injure had
been made her companion.
Still I did not feel satisfied, and the only consoling thing was to be
found in Lister's own words, that he had sent for Miss Carr's relative;
and, in the hope that he might soon arrive, I reached home and went up
at once to see Hallett, who looked very ill, but smiled sadly, as I sat
down by his side.
"Better," he said; "I think I'm better, but I don't know, Antony:
sometimes I feel as if it would be happier if I could be altogether at
rest."
"Oh, Hallett!" I cried.
"Yes, you are right," he said. "What would become of them? I must get
better, Antony, better, but sometimes--sometimes--"
"Don't speak to him any more," whispered Mary; "he is so weak that his
poor head wanders."
"But, Mary, the doctor; does he say there is any danger?"
"No, no, my dear. He is to sleep all he can. There, go down now. I'm
going to sit up to-night."
I went down, leaving Mary to her weary vigil; for my head ached
terribly, and I was very giddy.
Linny was in the sitting-room, and she uttered an exclamation.
"Why, how bad you look, Antony!" she cried.
"Do I?" I said with a laugh; "I had a bit of a fall, and it has shaken
me. But, Linny dear, I have a message for you."
"For me, Antony?" she said, turning white.
"Yes; Miss Carr bade me ask you to come with me to her house to-morrow."
"I go to her house!" faltered Linny.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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