It was horrible, and it seemed endless. If she had had a weapon it would
have been better. But she had only her bare hands and her despair; and
she might swoon. At last the carriage swerved sharply to one side, and
jolted over a stone; and the man lurched nearer to her, and--and moaned!
Julia drew a deep breath and leaned forward, scarcely able to believe
her ears. But the man moaned again; and then, as if the shaking had
roused him from a state of stupor, sat up slowly in his corner; she saw,
peering more closely at him, that he had been strangely huddled before.
At last he lowered his hand from his face and disclosed his features. It
was--her astonishment was immense--it was Mr. Thomasson!
In her surprise Julia uttered a cry. The tutor opened his eyes and
looked languidly at her; muttered something incoherent about his head,
and shut his eyes again, letting his chin fall on his breast.
But the girl was in a mood only one degree removed from frenzy. She
leaned forward and shook his arm. 'Mr. Thomasson!' she cried. 'Mr.
Thomasson!' Apparently the name and the touch were more effectual. He opened his
eyes and sat up with a start of recognition, feigned or real. On his
temple just under the edge of his wig, which was awry, was a slight cut.
He felt it gingerly with his fingers, glanced at them, and finding them
stained with blood, shuddered. 'I am afraid--I am hurt,' he muttered.
His languor and her excitement went ill together. She doubted he was
pretending, and had a hundred ill-defined, half-formed suspicions of
him. Was it possible that he--he had dared to contrive this? Or was he
employed by others--by another? 'Who hurt you?' she cried sharply. At
least she was not afraid of him.
He pointed in the direction of the horses. 'They did,' he said stupidly.
'I saw it from the lane and ran to help you. The man I seized struck
me--here. Then, I suppose they feared I should raise the country on
them. And they forced me in--I don't well remember how.' 'And that is all you know?' she cried imperiously.
His look convinced her. 'Then help me now!' she replied, rising
impetuously to her feet, and steadying herself by setting one hand
against the back of the carriage. 'Shout! Scream! Threaten them! Don't
you see that every yard we are carried puts us farther in their power?
Shout!--do you hear?' 'They will murder us!' he protested faintly. His cheeks were pale; his
face wore a scared look, and he trembled visibly.
'Let them!' she answered passionately, beating on the nearest door.
'Better that than be in their hands. Help! Help! Help here!' Her shrieks rose above the rumble of the wheels and the steady trampling
of the horses; she added to the noise by kicking and beating on the door
with the fury of a mad woman. Mr. Thomasson had had enough of violence
for that day; and shrank from anything that might bring on him the fresh
wrath of his captors. But a moment's reflection showed him that if he
allowed himself to be carried on he would, sooner or later, find himself
face to face with Mr. Dunborough; and, in any case, that it was now his
interest to stand by his companion; and presently he too fell to
shouting and drumming on the panels. There was a quaver, indeed, in his
'Help! Help!' that a little betrayed the man; but in the determined
clamour which she raised and continued to maintain, it passed
well enough.