him the old signal by one of the fishermen’s children.
No; only if all other means failed. He was better now, and would be about. She would watch for him, and, as she called it, meet him by accident, and then plead her cause.
And so a week glided away, and there was only about one more before the judge would arrive, and Abel and his companion be brought up in the assize court. Mary had haunted every road and lane leading toward the big house, and had met the captain riding and walking, but always with Mistress Armstrong, and she could not speak before her.
There was nothing for it but to take the bold step, and after long hesitation that step was taken; the piece of sea-weed was wrapped up in paper, entrusted to a little messenger, and that evening Mary Dell left the cottage and walked round the western point towards Torcross, her cheeks flushed, her eyes unusually bright, and her heart full of care.
She was not long in reaching the well-known spot – their old trysting-place, where the coarse sand was white, and the rocks which shut in the retired tiny cove rough with limpet, barnacle, and weed.
This was the first time she had been there since James Armstrong had wearied of the prude, as he called her, and jilted her for his wealthy wife; and now the question arose; Would he come?
The evening was glorious; but one thought filled Mary’s breast – Abel shut up behind the prison bars, still obdurate, and believing her false to him, and his faithful friend.
The grey look on the face of the sea was reflected upon that of the watcher; and as the sky grew dark, so grew Mary Dell’s eyes, only that there was a lurid light now and then glowing in their depths.
“He will not come,” she said. “He hates me now as I hate him, and – ”
She stopped short, for her well-trained ear caught the sound of a pebble falling as if from a height upon the strand below, and gazing fixedly above the direction of the sound, she made out something dark moving high up on the cliff track.
Mary’s heart began to beat wildly, and she drew a long breath; but she would not let hope carry her away for a few moments till she could be certain, and then a faint cry of joy escaped her, but only to be succeeded by a chilling sensation, as something seemed to ask her why he had come.
“I’m late,” cried a well-known voice directly after. “Why, Mary, just in the old spot. It’s like old times. My darling!” He tried to clasp her in his arms, his manner displaying no trace of his injuries; but she thrust him sharply away, half surprised and yet not surprised, for she seemed now to read the man’s character to the full.
“Captain Armstrong!” she cried, hoarsely.
“Why, my dear Mary, don’t be so prudish. You are not going to carry on that old folly?”
“Captain Armstrong, don’t mistake me.”
“Mistake you! No. You are the dearest, loveliest woman I ever saw. There, don’t be huffed because I was so long. I couldn’t get away. You know – ” and he again tried to seize her.
“Captain Armstrong – ”
“Now, what nonsense! You sent for me, and I have come.”
“Yes. I sent for you because there was no other way of speaking to you alone.”
“Quite right, my darling; and what could be better than here alone? Mary, sweet, it will be dark directly.”
“Sir, I sent for you here that I might beg of you to save my brother and poor Bart.”
“Curse your brother and Bart!” said the captain, angrily. “It was not their fault that they did not kill me. They’re better out of our way.”
“Captain Armstrong – James – for our old love’s sake will you save them?”
“No,” he cried, savagely. “Yes,” he added, catching Mary’s wrist; “not for our old love’s sake, but for our new love – the love that is to come. Mary, I love you; I always did love you, and now I find I cannot live without you.”
“Captain Armstrong!”
“James – your lover. Mary, you are everything to me. Don’t struggle. How can you be so foolish? There, yes, I will. I’ll do everything. I’ll refuse to appear against them if you wish me to. I’ll get them set free; but you will not hold me off like this?”
“You will save my brother?”
“Yes.”
“And his friend?”
“Yes.”
“Then I will always be grateful to you, and pray for your happiness.”
“And be mine, Mary, my love, my own?”
“You villain! you traitor!” hissed Mary, as, taking advantage of a momentary forgetfulness, he clasped her in his arms and showered kisses on her lips, her cheeks, her hair.
But Captain Armstrong had made a mistake. It was like caressing a Cornish wrestler. There was a sharp struggle, during which he found that Mary’s thews and sinews were, softly rounded as she was, strong as those of a man. She had been accustomed to row a boat in a rough sea by the hour together, and there was additional strength given to her arm by the indignation that made her blood course hotly through her veins.
How dare he, a miserable traitor, insult her as he did?
The question made the girl’s blood seem to boil; and ere he could place another kiss upon her lips Mary had forgotten brother, friend, the trial everything but the fact that James Armstrong, Mistress Armstrong’s husband, had clasped her in his arms; and in return she clasped him tightly in hers.
They swayed here for a moment, then there, and the next the captain was lifted completely from the shingle and literally jerked sideways, to fall with a crash and strike his head against a piece of rock. Then a sickening sensation came over him and all seemed dark, while, when he recovered a few minutes later, his head was bleeding and he was alone, and afraid with his swimming head to clamber up the rough cliff path.
“The cursed jade!” he muttered, as he recovered after a time, and went cautiously back after tying up his head, “I wish I could lay her alongside her brother in the gaol.”
“Yes; I’ll save him,” he said with a mocking laugh, as he reached the top of the cliff and looked down at the faint light seen in the old wrecker’s cottage. “I’ll save him; and, in spite of all, it’ll be a strange thing if Mary Dell isn’t lost.
“Curse her, how strong she is!” he said after a pause.
“What shall I say! Humph! a slip on the path and a fall. I’m weak yet after the assault. Some one will have to plaster her dearest Jemmy’s head – a sickly fool!”
Chapter Nine
Behind Prison Bars
Mary Dell went again and again to the prison in the county town, tramping till she was footsore; but she did not see Abel, for she had to encounter double difficulties – to wit, the regulations of the authorities, and her brother’s refusal to see her.
At last, though, she compassed an interview with Bart Wrigley, and the big fellow listened to her stolidly,
