IN THE CARRIAGE

The man whose work had taken him that evening to the summit of the Druid’s Mound, and whose tale roused the Castle Inn ten minutes later, had seen aright.  But he had not seen all.  Had he waited another minute, he would have marked a fresh actor appear at Manton Corner, would have witnessed the denouement of the scene, and had that to tell when he descended, which must have allayed in a degree, not only the general alarm, but Sir George’s private apprehensions.

It is when the mind is braced to meet a known emergency that it falls the easiest prey to the unexpected.  Julia was no coward.  But as she loitered along the lane beyond Preshute churchyard in the gentle hour before sunset, her whole being was set on the coming of the lover for whom she waited.  As she thought over the avowal she would make to him, and conned the words she would speak to him, the girl’s cheeks, though she believed herself alone, burned with happy blushes; her breath came more quickly, her body swayed involuntarily in the direction whence he, who had chosen and honoured her, would come!  The soft glow which overspread the heights, as the sun went down and left the vale to peace and rest, was not more real or more pure than the happiness that thrilled her.  Her heart overflowed in a tender ecstasy, as she thanked God, and her lover.  In the peace that lay around her, she who had flouted Sir George, not once or twice, who had mocked and tormented him, in fancy kissed his feet.

In such a mood as this she had neither eyes nor ears for aught but the coming of her lover.  When she reached the corner, jealous that none but he should see the happy shining of her eyes—­nor he until he stood beside her—­she turned to walk back; in a luxury of anticipation.  Her lot was wonderful to her.  She sang in her heart that she was blessed among women.

And then, without the least warning, the grating of a stone even, or the sound of a footstep, a violent grip encircled her waist from behind; something thick, rough, suffocating, fell on her head and eyes, enveloped and blinded her.  The shock of the surprise was so great that for a moment breath and even the instinct of resistance failed her; and she had been forced several steps, in what direction she had no idea, before sense and horror awoke together, and wresting herself, by the supreme effort of an active girl, from the grasp that confined her, she freed her mouth sufficiently to scream.

Twice and shrilly; then, before she could entirely rid her head of the folds that blinded her, a remorseless grip closed on her neck, and another round her waist; and choking and terrified, vainly struggling and fighting, she felt herself pushed along.  Coarse voices, imprecating vengeance on her if she screamed, again, sounded in her ears:  and then for a moment her course was stayed.  She fancied that she heard a shout, the rush and scramble of feet in the road,