CHAPTER XIX

THE JOURNEY’S END

Sara stirred a little and opened her eyes.  Deep within herself she was ashamed of those brief moments of assumed unconsciousness—­those moments which had shown her a strong man’s soul stripped naked of all pride and subterfuge—­his heart and soul as he alone knew them.

But, none the less, she felt gloriously happy.  Nothing could ever hurt her badly again.  Garth loved her!

Since, for some reason, he himself would never have drawn aside the veil and let her know the truth, she was glad—­glad that she had peered unbidden through the rent which the stress of the moment had torn in his iron self-command and reticence.  Just as she had revealed herself to him on the island, in a moment of equal strain, so he had now revealed himself to her, and they were quits.

“I’m all right,” she announced, struggling into a sitting position.  “I’m not hurt.”

“Sit still a minute, while I fetch you some brandy from the car.”  Garth spoke in a curiously controlled voice.

He was back again in a moment, and the raw spirit made her catch her breath as it trickled down her throat.

“Thank God we had only just begun to move,” he said.  “Otherwise you must have been half-killed.”

“What happened?” she asked curiously.  “How did I fall out?”

“The door came open.  That damned fool, Judson, didn’t shut it properly.  Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

“Quite sure.  My head aches rather.”

“That’s very probable.  You were stunned for a minute or two.”

Suddenly the recollection of their errand returned to her.

“Molly!  Good Heavens, how much time have we wasted?  How long has this silly business taken?” she demanded, in a frenzy of apprehension.

Garth surveyed her oddly in the glow of one of the car’s side-lights, which he had carried back with him when he fetched the brandy.

“Five minutes, I should think,” he said, adding under his breath:  “Or half eternity!”

“Five minutes!  Is that all?  Then do let’s hurry on.”

She took a few steps in the direction of the car, then stopped and wavered.  She felt curiously shaky, and her legs seemed as though they did not belong to her.

In a moment Garth was at her side, and had lifted her up in his arms.  He carried her swiftly across the few yards that intervened between them and the car, and settled her gently into her seat.

“Do you feel fit to go on?” he asked.

“Of course I do.  We must—­bring Molly back.”  Even her voice refused to obey the dictates of her brain, and quavered weakly.

“Well, try to rest a little.  Don’t talk, and perhaps you’ll go to sleep.”

He restarted the car, and, taking his seat once more at the wheel, drove on at a smooth and easy pace.