Gervase had not forgotten the promise he had made to Dorothy, but in the intervals of his duty had watched the house narrowly, and so far as he was able to discover, Jasper had not attempted to repeat his visits to the enemy. He had begun to think that his thinly-veiled threat had had a salutary effect, and that Jasper knowing himself to have been discovered, would not again rashly put his safety in peril. The task was not one for which he had any great relish, but he had determined, however irksome and unpleasant it might prove, that he would save Dorothy from a public exposure and from the pain that such exposure must necessarily inflict upon her. Had it not been for her he would have taken a summary method with the traitor, but his long vigils were rendered light by the thought that they were undertaken for her sake. While he stood in the dark street in the shadow of the opposite doorway, his heart was stirred when he caught sight of her crossing the window of her chamber, and so long as her light burned there he felt that he was not altogether alone. For matter-of-fact as he was, his love 260had waked whatever of the pathetic and the heroic there was in his nature; and he felt that this service was a link that bound them more closely together. Macpherson who knew something of his solitary watching, had laughed in his own fashion, and told him that no woman could be won in such a fashion, for while one was sitting sad outside another was fiddling in the chamber. But Gervase had kept his post, though nothing came of it and though he had not spoken to Dorothy for days.
To-night he had been ordered with his company to the lines. The enemy who had been waiting in sullen patience for the famine-stricken garrison to surrender, had made some show of movement, and it was believed they meditated another night attack. The guards had therefore been doubled, and precautions were taken to prevent a surprise. Gervase went the more willingly since he believed his services in the city were no longer needed, as a fortnight had elapsed and Jasper had made no sign of renewing his intrigue; and it was a relief once more to find an outlet for his feelings in vigorous action. He felt that he had lost his youth and that he was growing old in witnessing the sights he saw every day--the gaunt hollow-eyed wretches who came tottering from their ruined houses in search of food; the men stricken down with hunger where they stood on duty at the walls; women who had lost their children; children motherless and fatherless, and left without a protector; the want, the sorrow, and the death that increased every day. If they 261might but have fought out the fight upon the open field, and in one brave struggle have decided their fate, how willingly he would have taken his part! But half the fighting men had fallen since they closed the gates, and of the other half many of them could hardly shoulder their muskets and drag themselves to the walls.
It was a relief to pass out of the gates, and the sight and sound of so much misery, into the quiet night with the cool air blowing about him and the new moon lifting itself slowly through the summer haze. In the distance he could see the gleam of the watch-fires of the enemy, but there was a great and unbroken silence round them, as the company made its way along the path that had been beaten into white dust with frequent marching. Macpherson was in command of the outpost that night, and Gervase found him seated by himself in the bastion on the carriage of a gun that had been brought up from the city. He was quietly communing with himself while he drew consolation from his favourite pipe. Of late days the old soldier had been foremost in attack and counsel. Hard work and scanty fare had had no effect upon him, but his spirits seemed to have risen the higher as their privations and hardships increased. In all expeditions of danger he was among the foremost to volunteer, and on more than one occasion his coolness and resource had been of immense service to the besieged. Walker′s antipathy he had long since overcome, for though they had serious differences on points 262of doctrine, they had each come to recognize the excellent qualities of the other.
When Gervase had completed the arrangement of his company, he joined the old soldier in the bastion. He made the usual inquiries as to the movement in front, but Macpherson, apparently in a fit of abstraction, had answered his questions in monosyllables. There was in the face of the latter the hardness and solemnity that Gervase had seen early in their acquaintance, but which had disappeared of recent days. Then he rose up and laid his hand on the young fellow′s shoulder.
“Let us walk down the rampart,” he said, as if awaking from his reverie, “my legs have grown stiff, and there is something that I would say to you. Our lads are veterans in the service now and stand up unwinking without the need of a ramrod.”
With his hand resting on Gervase′s shoulder, they walked along the trench down the hill. There was no need for speech between them now, for Gervase had come to understand his friend′s varying moods, and had long since ceased to resent the fits of silence into which the other was accustomed to fall. “Here is another day gone,” he said, “and no move from the Tangier Butcher. Whether he come by Inch or by the river, he will come too late, if he come at all. I have been thinking that I might hurry him.”
"You are not serious?
“Faith! the man who drops into the river, and floats himself clear of the lines yonder till he reaches 263the ships by the good guidance of God, would need to have a serious mind. I have been thinking it all over, as I sat there to-night, and of the poor souls in their tribulation yonder. If I was a year or two younger I would try it blithely, and I think Kirke would listen to his old comrade. There were certain passages between us once--however, as I say, this might be done by one who took his life in his hand, and I think I am the man. Do you believe in omens, lad?”
“I know not.” Gervase answered; “I think they are but an idle superstition.”
“Then you may laugh at me if you will, but as surely as my name is Ninian I have been called this night to that work, and perhaps to more also.”
“I had thought,” said Gervase, “you had forgot these idle dreams and warnings.”
“Though I am a man of prayer,” he went on, disregarding the interruption, “I am not gifted with the vision, but twice before I have heard the same voice, and twice my life was put in grievous jeopardy. When I heard it before, it spoke as if in anger, but to-night it was sweet and soft like his voice that was my friend. You see I was sitting there on the bastion figuring out how I might reach the ships, and reproaching myself for my backwardness in desiring to make the venture, when I heard a voice as if a great way off coming from up the river yonder. I listened attentively but there was a deep silence, and I began to think that it was a mere trick of fancy. Then it came again, 264sounding nearer, till I heard the words of his voice.”
“Whose voice?” said Gervase, wonderingly.
Macpherson turned towards him with a white face. “The voice of my old friend--him that I told you of. But, thank God, I know his spirit is at peace with mine, and I can die content. I could see him before me with my mortal eyes, as I heard that familiar voice that has not sounded in mine ears for twenty years. He has called me and I am going yonder.”
There was no trace of excitement in his manner or in his speech, but he spoke with the calm deliberateness of a man who has fully made up his mind and cannot be shaken in his opinion. Gervase knew that it was useless to attempt to reason with him; and indeed, if the truth must be told, he himself was not a little impressed by the tale he had heard. The supernatural played a large part in the lives of the people among whom he lived, and it was not curious that his own mind should have been touched by the prevailing spirit. But to Macpherson it was a fact that required no explanation and hardly seemed to call for wonder.
“And were you not afraid to hear that disembodied voice?” Gervase asked, “if it be that it was not more than your fancy?”
“Wherefore should I be afraid? was it not the voice of my friend who spoke to me no longer in anger? I know that my sin is forgiven. Some day, my lad,” he continued, with the kindly and 265almost caressing tone he had adopted towards Gervase, “some day you will understand what I mean, but not yet. Now forget what I have spoken and help me with your young and nimble wits.”
“It is madness for you to dream of it,” Gervase answered. “No man could reach the ships by the water alone, and to land would be certain death.”
“When we were campaigning on the Danube I swam further than that and was none the worse for it, while the Janissaries were potting at us from their flat-bottomed boat a good part of the way. But this is an old story now.”
“Ay! and you were a young man then. If any should undertake this task, why should not I? I am sick and weary to death of what I have seen yonder, and I had rather die once and for all than die by inches. Were there but a chance----”
“My lad, you must not think of it. You are young and there is still need for you in the world. The bonnie wench yonder could ill spare you; but there′ll be none, but mayhap yourself, to wait for the home-coming of Ninian Macpherson; and the folk yonder are worth venturing a man′s life for. I have been through many a siege, but I think since the beginning of time there hath been none like this.”
“Truly there is a fat Cathedral yard,” said Gervase bitterly, “and God knows when it will end. There are two more of Simon′s sturdy lads dead yesterday, and I hardly think the little girl I told you of will hold out till the morning.”
266“Poor soul, poor soul!” he continued, “and to think that it should all be happening under that--” and he lifted up his hand. The night was clear and cloudless. The river lay before them reflecting the starlight in its calm unbroken waters, and the moon lifted its slender crescent through a mellow haze. They were about to retrace their steps along the lines when Macpherson, whose sight was marvellously keen, caught sight of a figure moving rapidly under the shelter of a sunken fence. He had seen it for a moment as it showed clear against the river, as it made its way swiftly in the shadow. He caught Gervase by the arm, pulling him under cover of the embankment.
“There is foul play here,” he whispered. “Yon binkie travels too fast to have an honest errand. He will come this way, if he intend, as I verily think he does, to pass through to the camp yonder.”
The man made his way toward them rapidly, without stopping for a moment. It was clear that he intended to pass the angle were they stood, and they would not have to stir to intercept him as he passed.
“There may be need of this,” said Macpherson, drawing his sword, “but I think not; the traitor is nearly always a coward.”
They could now hear the man breathing hard as he ran; he was preparing to leap into the trench, when Macpherson presented himself before him, with his drawn sword in his hand.
“Stand, and give me the word.”
267The man stopped short as if astonished at the unexpected rencontre, and then thrust his hand into his breast. But Macpherson divined his purpose. “If you move that hand I will run you through the body,” and he held the point of the sword perilously near the man′s throat.
Gervase had not moved forward but was still standing in the shadow. Something warned him that the traitor whom he had been watching so long had made his attempt to-night, and was discovered at last.
“Now, sir, what is your errand here to-night? if you do not answer me I shall call the guard.”
“You need not call the guard, Captain Macpherson. I am here on no sinister business, but have come to seek for Mr. Gervase Orme, who, I am told, is in the lines to-night.”
He lifted off his hat and stood bareheaded in the midnight. As he listened, Gervase knew that it was a lie, but did not move from his place of concealment.
“Good God,” cried Macpherson, “′tis the brave wench′s brother. I′m thinking, Mr. Carew, it was a strange way you took to find the gentleman you speak of. It looked like as if you thought to find him yonder.”
“I am not familiar with your outworks, sir,” answered Jasper, who had recovered his composure, and spoke with studied coolness, “and I thought you had another line of defence along the hill.”
“There is no accounting for a man′s thoughts,” 268said Macpherson, “but the message must have been urgent that needed so much haste. In the future I would advise you to move more circumspectly when musket balls are plenty. Now, perhaps, as the gentleman is my friend, you will even give me your news and I will contrive that it reaches him.”
“It can be delivered to none but himself. If you will tell me where I may find him, I have no doubt I can make my way thither myself.”
“I have no doubt you could, but you see I cannot let you out of my sight. We must even see the gentleman together.”
“You do not mean that you doubt my word?”
“Your word, sir, cannot interfere with my plain duty. I am one of those who strive to give no tongue to their loose thoughts. I would think well of you for your sister′s sake; and I think we will hear, after all, what Mr. Orme has to say about the matter.”
“I have no doubt,” said Carew, changing his ground as he saw that Macpherson was inflexible, “that I have acted heedlessly in venturing hither, and it may be best for me to return to the city. If you should consider it well, I am ready to give any explanation that may be necessary in the morning.”
Macpherson smiled grimly. “I have no doubt you would, but it is a pity that you should have come so far without fulfilling your errand; and I think Mr. Orme hath been waiting with some 269impatience to hear what you have to say to him.”
Gervase stepped quickly forward.
“You can go no further with this deception, Mr. Carew,” he said, “I gave you a friendly warning before which you have not followed, and you must suffer the consequences.”
Carew stepped back with a look of hate on his face. “The curse of heaven light on you for an intermeddling rogue!” he cried. “Do what you will, I care not.”
“You knew,” Gervase continued, “that I had learned your secret, and I think though I may be deceived, you knew how I had learned it. I was anxious to spare you the humiliation of making a confession of your treachery, and for the sake of others would have averted the ............