The narrow path down which he had come was visible for some distance as it
wound through field and copse, and upon it there now appeared another
figure, as yet far off, but moving rapidly through the fading light toward
the river. "Jean! Jean! Jean Hugon!" cried Audrey.
The blood rushed to Haward's face. "As bad as that!" he said, beneath his
breath. Going over to the girl, he took her by the hands and strove to
make her look at him; but her face was like marble, and her eyes would not
meet his, and in a moment she had wrenched herself free of his clasp.
"Jean Hugon! Help, Jean Hugon!" she called.
The half-breed in the distance heard her voice, and began to run toward
them.
"Audrey, listen to me!" cried Haward. "How can I speak to you, how
explain, how entreat, when you are like this? Child, child, I am no
monster! Why do you shrink from me thus, look at me thus with frightened
eyes? You know that I love you!"
She broke from him with lifted hands and a wailing cry. "Let me go! Let me
go! I am running through the corn, in the darkness, and I hope to meet the
Indians! I am awake,--oh, God! I am wide awake!"
With another cry, and with her hands shutting out the sound of his voice,
she turned and fled toward the approaching trader. Haward, after one deep
oath and an impetuous, quickly checked movement to follow the flying
figure, stood beneath the oak and watched that meeting: Hugon, in his
wine-colored coat and Blenheim wig, fierce, inquisitive, bragging of what
he might do; the girl suddenly listless, silent, set only upon an
immediate return through the fields to the glebe house.
She carried her point, and the two went away without let or hindrance from
the master of Fair View, who leaned against the stem of the oak and
watched them go. He had been very ill, and the hour's search, together
with this unwonted beating of his heart, had made him desperately
weary,--too weary to do aught but go slowly and without overmuch of
thought to the spot where he had left his horse, mount it, and ride as
slowly homeward. To-morrow, he told himself, he would manage differently;
at least, she should be made to hear him. In the mean time there was the
night to be gotten through. MacLean, he remembered, was coming to the
great house. What with wine and cards, thought might for a time be pushed
out of doors.