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Willoughby, on her part, having thus discomfited the Baron, was not unmindful of the other danger; so she moved her seat to a position near enough to overlook and check Girasole, and then resumed those formal, chilling, heartless, but perfectly polite remarks which she had been administering to the Baron since Girasole's arrival. At length Mrs.
She recollected how Hawbury had commended his friend, and how she had turned from these to put her trust in the driver and Girasole, the very men who had betrayed her. These were the thoughts that overwhelmed her. But now there arose once more the noise of rolling wheels, advancing more swiftly than the last, accompanied by the lash of a whip and shouts of a human voice.
Two of these had received bad but not dangerous wounds from the dagger of Dacres, and the scowls of pain and rage which they threw upon Hawbury and the other captives boded nothing but the most cruel fate to all of them. Another, however, still lay there. It was the one who had intercepted Dacres in his rush upon Girasole. He lay motionless in a pool of blood. They turned him over.
Some distance in front the road took another turn, and was lost to view among the trees. About a hundred yards in front of them a tree had been felled, and lay across the way, barring their progress. About twenty armed men stood before them close by the place where the turn was. Among them was a man on horseback. To their amazement, it was Girasole.
"Hallo, you woman there! didn't I tell you not to let the ladies speak to one another?" Of course no answer was given, so Girasole grew more angry still, and cried out again, more imperatively: "Why do you not answer me? Where are you? Is this the way you watch?" Still there was no answer. Ethel heard, and by this time knew what his suspicion was; but she could neither do nor say any thing.
Girasole stepped noiselessly and cautiously, as though fearful of waking the sleeper. At every step he paused and listened. The silence reassured him. He drew nearer and nearer, his left hand groping forward, and his right hand holding a pistol. His movements were perfectly noiseless. His own excitement was now intense, his heart throbbed fiercely and almost painfully as he approached his victim.
"Well," said he, "all I can say is that it seems to me to be a devilish odd way of going to work about it." "Aha!" said Girasole, fiercely. "You sall see. Se sall be mine. Aha!" Hawbury made no reply, and Girasole, after a gesture of impatience, walked off, baffled. In a few minutes two men came up to Hawbury, and led him away to the woods on the left. Girasole now returned to the ladies.
You must go, I suppose, since that horrid man talks and scolds so about it; only be sure to be back early; but how I am ever to pass the night here all alone and standing up, I'm sure I don't know." "Alone? Oh no," said Girasole. "Charming mees, you sall not be alone; I haf guard for dat. I haf sent for a maid." "But I don't want any of your horrid old maids. I want my own maid, or none at all."
As he passed he threw a quick, vivid glance at Girasole. It was not a pleasant glance by any means, and was full of quick, fierce, and insolent scrutiny a "Who-the-devil-are-you?" glance. It was for but an instant, however, and then he glanced at Mrs. Willoughby again, and then he had passed. The ladies soon reached their home, and at once retired to Mrs. Willoughby's room.
Girasole led the way into Hawbury's room. The prisoner lay on his side. He was in a deep sleep. Girasole looked in wonder at the sleeper who was spending in this way the last hours of his life, and then pointed to the coffin. "Here," said he, in Italian, "is the body. When the grave is dug they will tell you. You must stay here. You will not be afraid to be with the dead." The priest smiled.
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