The Sapphire Cross

All still, but the wind was getting up and beginning to moan round the house, sighing in a way that in her excited state seemed to reproach her, and she stopped, trembling violently.

Why had she not told him to come to the library window? The door would have yielded to her touch, and she could have reached out to speak to him, while now she had to slip bolts and bars, and to turn a key, one and all of which gave forth sounds that seemed to make her blood run cold. Once more she stopped; but summoning her resolution, she proceeded, and the inner lobby door was passed and closed behind her. She stood upon the floor-cloth, listening and trying to pierce the gloom of the great billiard-room to the right, but she could only make out the table, covered with its loose, white dust-cloth. The coats and hats, though, against the wall, looked ghostly, and it was as much as she could do to summon courage to proceed, till, with many a choking sob, she told herself that it was only for his love that she did it, and that she would give him one kiss, and then they would part till he could come back a better man. For weren’t they young even yet? She was only twenty-four, and she could wait, for she loved John, after all, with all his failings.

Yes, she loved John; and that thought carried her to the door, and she placed her hand upon the top bolt just as a faint tap sounded upon the little slip of a glass window at the side, when there came a louder gust of wind, telling of the coming storm, and seeming to her excited fancy like a warning. She hesitated, and stood trembling like one of the leaves without, whose rustling she could plainly hear.

It was only to say good-bye, though, perhaps for many years, and it would be so cruel to let him go without, and besides, it was not wise to tarry, for there was the faint possibility of McCray being on the watch, though this coming round to the other side of the house would, in such a case, perhaps, throw him off the scent.

Again her hand was on the fastenings, and again she paused, listening to the warning voice within her; but a second faint tap roused her, bolt and lock were thrown back, and, with a loud crack, as if remonstrating at being opened at such unholy hours, the door was thrown wide.

The next instant Jane was in Gurdon’s arms; her own, too, flung round his neck, and her lips warmly meeting his kisses, as she sobbed wildly and clung to him, thinking of the parting soon to follow.

“Let me shut the door, though,” she whispered, disengaging herself after a few minutes.

“No – no,” whispered Gurdon, hoarsely, in reply, as he again folded her tightly in his arms. “Leave that as it is; but, tell me, are they all abed?”

“Oh yes, hours ago,” she answered; “but you must not stay a minute longer, for I believe McCray saw your footsteps last night, and perhaps he’s watching.”

“Confound him – yes, he nearly kicked me as he came by,” growled Gurdon. “Lucky for him, though, he didn’t. But are you sure you’ve got down unknown to all the girls?”

“Oh yes – certain,” was the whispered answer. “And now, John, you’ll try, won’t you? You will try to keep away from the drink and get on? and – Please don’t hold me so tightly.”

“Yes, yes – all right. I’ll try,” he whispered, excitedly – “but be quiet; don’t struggle. I’m not going to hurt you, you little fool. There, be quiet!”

Jane’s heart beat more violently than ever, and she panted as his arm grasped her more tightly. There was a strange excitement creeping through her frame, she knew not why; but she felt that something was wrong, though no suspicion of what was impending had yet flashed across her mind.

“Tell me quickly,” he said now, “has the new butler come?”

“No,” she answered, still panting heavily. “Master’s been too ill to see about such matters.”

“Does any one sleep in the pantry?”

“No,” said Jane; “but why do you ask?”

For response Gurdon gave utterance to a low, sharp cough; when, gazing wonderingly at him, as if for explanation of his coldness, a faint rustle fell upon Jane’s ears; there was a step outside, and as she started to close the door the blackened faces of two men appeared. A half-uttered groan passed her lips, and a horrible feeling of despair clutched her heart, as at one glance she saw that she had been betrayed, and that the man she loved was a greater scoundrel than she could have believed. It was all plain enough: she had been deluded into admitting an enemy – into playing false to her master; and these men would plunder the house – perhaps murder somebody before they got off with their booty. She thought not of herself; her whole aim now was to alarm the inmates, and as her lips parted she would have uttered a shriek, but that it was too late, for Gurdon’s hand was over her mouth, pressing it tightly – almost to suffocation, and the next instant she was thrown upon the floor.

“Make so much as a sound, and one of these men will make an end of you as soon as look at you!” hissed Gurdon, tearing off her apron and thrusting it into her mouth. “Now, then, you proud jade, I’ve got the better of you this time, drat you; and as soon as we’ve done, you shall follow where I like. Here, Joe, stop with her, and if she moves, stun her with your preserver. She’s my property now. Come along, Harry, this way.”

For a few minutes Jane had struggled fiercely, but in vain; a piece of rope was tied tightly round both arms and ankles, and every effort to recover her freedom only resulted in acute pain. There was only one thing open to her, and that was to get to her feet and contrive to fall against the glass door, when she hoped that the crash might alarm the house, or at least be heard by some one. To appeal to Gurdon was, she knew, useless, and for awhile the despair engendered by the thoughts of her misery crushed down every other feeling, but only for a few short moments. Her whole thought directly after was on duty to those whom she felt that she had betrayed, and, taking advantage of her guard’s back being turned, she contrived – how, she knew not – to get upon her feet. Another moment, and she would have been at the glass door, when, with a savage oath, the more horrible for being hissed in a low tone, Gurdon stepped back, caught her by her back hair, and dragged her down, at the same time striking her brutally across the face.

Jane moaned feebly, but it was not from pain, but despair at not being able to help others. The despair, though, was driven away, and her dark eyes flashed a fierce resentment as they looked full in Gurdon’s, which shrank from the encounter.

“Watch her this time, will you!” he said, brutally. “Hold a knife over her if you like, while I go to the door!”

“Hadn’t you best fasten the other first?” growled a companion.

“What, and shut off a way to bolt!” said the other. “No, thanky. Now, Gurdon, look alive; we’re wasting time.”

“Hold your tongue, will you, with names,” growled Gurdon. “Now then, mind the chairs along this passage. No lights, mind – not even a match.”

“Here, stay a moment,” whispered the other. “This she-wolf will be loose. Drat you – be quiet, will you!”

In effect, with a terrible effort, Jane had freed one of her hands, and was struggling to tear the gag from her mouth, when, as her guard struck at her savagely, there came a dull, heavy crash, and he rolled over upon his side.

Rescue

“Ye maraudin’ villin, take that! And there’s for ye too, ye deevil!” exclaimed a low, deep voice, and then another heavy, flapping blow was struck; there was a crash, a scuffle, another blow or two, and then came the sound of a heavy fall, succeeded by another, and the crackle of breaking twigs.

“Heaven save us!” ejaculated the newcomer. “There goes half the pots off the stand, and, by all that’s good, one of them’s gone right amongst the azaleas!”

Then there was a perfect stillness, unbroken even by the night wind, which had lulled once more, when, after listening at the door for a few moments, Alexander McCray, smiling at his opportune arrival and successful exploit, closed the portal, and slipped one of the bolts. Then, taking a box of matches from his pocket, he lit one, and then applied it to a candle in a sconce over the side-table.

“Why, my puir, daft bairn!” he said, tenderly, as he drew the gag from Jane’s teeth, and cut the rope which bound her feet. “It’s cruel treatment of such a flower. I’d have been here sooner, only I had to go to the tool-shed for a weepun; and it’s lucky I did,” he said, showing the spade with which he had dealt his blows.

“Oh, McCray!” sobbed Jane, “I’m ruined for ever, and undone!”

“Not you, my wee blossom,” cried McCray, stoutly. “You know now what a villin he is, so I won’t be ragging his character, seeing that he’s done for for ever. An’ I won’t blame ye a bit, not a wee bit, my sweet lassie,” he continued, as he tenderly chafed her swollen wrists. “Ye made a mistake, and trusted a rascal, and not the first poor daft chiel that did, to her cost. But he won’t forget the spade of Alexander McCray, of Galashiels, in a hurry, my lassie; and it’s all a gude act of Providence that I – ”

Sandy stopped short, for he remembered the rabbit.

“It’s all gude luck,” he continued, “that I happened to hear ye whisper out of the lattice, and then came this morning to rake out the footsteps. I’ve been watching sin’ ten, that I have, and had no chance of warning ye when I saw the rogue had two to help him. And even then, my lassie, I thought they were only to take care of him, instead of being midnight robbers. But I sune fun them oot.”

“Oh, Mr McCray, it was a blessing you came!” sobbed Jane.

“Weel, yes, lassie, I just think it was. But ye’ll no foregather with the villin no more, will ye? Ye’ll ne’er speak to him again?”

“No, no – oh, never!” groaned Jane.

“That’s weel; and I won’t judge you for greeting over it all a bit, lassie. Your puir heart’s sair now, but it will heal up again, never fear. And now, I won’t say ony mair to ye, only recollect, Miss Jenny, I’m an honest man, and I lo’e ye verra dearly.”

Mr McCray had been growing somewhat excited as he spoke, and hence more broad in his language; but he cooled down into the matter-of-fact gardener after delivering himself of the above, and took a pinch of snuff to calm his feelings; for he felt that it would be wrong to press his suit with the poor girl while she was in such trouble, and his Scottish dignity was roused. Here was a damsel in distress – and were not the McCrays honourable men, from the time when they all wore plaid and wielded claymore, down to the present day, when their representative followed the pursuit of his forefather Adam?

“Oh, what is to become of me?” sobbed Jane.

“Just nothing at all but an honest man’s wife one of these days,” said Sandy.

“What shall I do?” cried Jane.

“Just wipe your bright eyes, and don’t talk quite so loud,” said Sandy.

“Oh, they’ll all be down directly,” cried Jane.

“Weel, I don’t know that,” said Sandy. “If any folk had been coming, they’d have been here sooner; so I think as no one knows anything about it but we twain, my lassie, why, ye’d better put oot the candle, and lock the door, and then go up to bed.”

“But do you think no one will know?” sobbed Jane.

“That’s just what I do think, my lassie; and if ye’ll promise me, like a good girl, never to have word again with Mr Jock Gurdon, I’ll be up wi’ the dawn, and put the damage reet outside, and then nobody’ll be a bit the wiser.”

“Oh, Mr McCray, how can I ever thank you?” sobbed Jane, catching one of his great hands in hers. “I do promise you, indeed!” And she tried to kiss it.