WHAT the precise signification was of the "whew!" which the gentlemanly Tom had uttered, I did not know; but it seemed to indicate that he was not particularly pleased to learn that I had been a visitor at the house. I felt that there was work for me to do, which I could commence at once by following out the clew afforded me by Mrs. Loraine's visitor. My first business was to ascertain who this gentleman was. Doubtless any one in the house could tell me. Probably Kate knew all about him, and I was all the more eager to see her.
I walked down to the pier in a brown study. Mrs. Loraine had positively refused to let me see Kate, at the present time or in the future. She wasagain confined to her room, not to leave it, I judged, for weeks, unless I put my plan of intervention into execution. Her oppressor was away, and the present seemed to be the most favorable time for releasing the captive.
"Come, Ernest, are you going home, or not?" called Bob, who was getting impatient at my delay.
"Not yet, Bob; there is something for us to do before we go."
"What's that?"
"I don't intend to leave Miss Kate here."
"I don't see what we can do about it," said he.
"I haven't any idea of leaving her to the tender mercies of that tigress. She shall be a passenger in the Splash," I added, as I stepped into the boat, and sat down in the standing-room. "I want to see her for my own sake as well as hers. I've had an idea since you left me."
"An idea?" queried he.
"Yes, a big idea. You know my story as well as I know it myself, and I don't mean to keep anything from you."
"What's up, Ernest?"
"I want to know who and what I am; and I'm going to find out, if there is any such thing. I told you about a well-dressed fellow who has been to the cottage of my uncle several times."
"I remember all about him. He quarrelled with your uncle, you said."
"That's the man. Well, Bob, the fellow that drove up in that two-horse buggy, as we came out of the house, was the very one who came to the cottage."
"Is that so?"
"That's so."
"Does he live in Cannondale?"
"I don't know where he lives. I heard Mrs. Loraine call him Tom, and that's all I know about him. I'm going to find out who he is."
"If you can."
"Kate must know who he is, for he seems to be a regular visitor at the house of Mrs. Loraine."
"Well, what are you going to do about it?"
"I'm going to get Kate out of the house."
"How, Ernest?"
"I don't exactly know yet, but I shall find a way."
"Don't you think that would be rather high-handed?"
"I can't help it if it is. I would just as lief raise a breeze over here as not."
"We shall get into a scrape, Ernest."
"I won't drag you into it, Bob. You may stay on the boat—"
"No, I won't! I'm ready to take my share in the enterprise."
"I'm satisfied this girl is abused, and it would be mean in us to leave her to her fate. It's nearly dark now, and there isn't any one in the garden. I'm going up to take a look. Kate said her room was in the attic."
"Yes; that's the one with the blinds closed."
I landed again, and Bob went with me up to the house. There was no one in sight, and nothing to prevent our doing the work we had undertaken immediately. After examining the premises, I concluded that we must release the captive maiden by means of the window. It would not be prudent to enter by the door, which was probably locked in the absence of the lady.
I visited the stable on the grounds in search of a rope; but I found there a ladder, which suited mebetter. With the assistance of Bob, I carried this to the rear of the house, and raised it to the window. I ascended to the window, and found that the blinds were nailed on the outside, so that they could not be opened. This was some confirmation of the truth of Kate's story. I descended again, and found a hammer in the stable, with which I returned and removed the nails.
"Kate!" I called, as soon as I had opened the blinds.
"O, Ernest Thornton!" exclaimed she, opening the window. "I felt sure that you had deserted me. I am so glad you have come!"
"We have no time to spare. Get your clothes as quick as possible; tie them up in a bundle, and throw them out the window."
She did not occupy many minutes in this preparation for her departure. The bundle was made up and thrown to the ground.
"How am I to get out?" asked she, glancing blankly at the ladder.
"Can you go down stairs and go out by the door?" I asked, willing to spare her the descent by the ladder.
THE RESCUE OF THE CAPTIVE MAIDEN.—Page 49.THE RESCUE OF THE CAPTIVE MAIDEN.—Page 49.
"I cannot; the door is locked," she replied, in trembling tones, for she was violently agitated by the situation.
"Then you must go down by the ladder," I added, ascending a few rounds higher. "Now give me your hands, and don't be afraid, for I can hold you so that you cannot fall."
I braced myself upon the ladder, which I directed Bob to hold firmly in its place, and took her by both hands. It was a perilous feat to step from the window to the ladder, and she was so terrified that I held her whole weight; but the passage was safely effected. I held her by the hands till she reached the ground, for she was so timid I dared not trust her to her own energies. I went up again, closed the blinds, and restored the nails, hoping that the escape of the prisoner would not be discovered before the next day. The ladder was conveyed to the stable, and placed where we had found it.
"Now run down to the pier and get into the boat as fast as you can," said I to Kate. "Crawl into the cuddy, and keep out of sight."
"Do you think any one will catch me?" asked she, quivering with terror.
"No; there is no person near to catch you," I replied, as I picked up her bundle of clothes.
We reached the boat without meeting any person, though Mrs. Loraine's man drove the cow into the yard just as we were pushing off from the pier. I had only lowered the jib of the Splash, so that she was ready to start without any delay; and in a few moments we were standing up the lake, the breeze still fresh from the north-west.
"You may come out now, Kate," I called to our passenger, when we were half a mile from the pier.
"Am I perfectly safe?" she asked, timidly, as she crawled out of the cuddy.
"Yes; no one can see you now. Sit down on this seat, and don't be alarmed."
"What shall we do with Miss Loraine now we have released her?" asked Bob, as she sat down by his side in the standing-room.
"I don't know," I replied. "We will settle that question before we go on shore. What did Mrs.Loraine do to you when you went into the house, Kate?"
"She spoke to me very severely, and sent me to my room. She told me I should not come out again for a month."
"She was mistaken this time, if she never was before," said Bob, with a congratulatory smile.
"She was, indeed; and O, I'm so thankful to you!"
"Do you know where Mrs. Loraine has gone now?" I asked, approaching the subject which was so near my own heart.
"I don't; I heard a carriage drive up the yard. I suppose she has gone out to ride," replied Kate.
"A gentleman drove up to the door in a two-horse buggy. Do you know who the gentleman was?" I asked, anxiously. "Mrs. Loraine called him Tom."
"O, that was Mr. Thornton," she answered.
"Mr. Thornton!" I exclaimed.
"Yes; is he any relation to you!"
"Not that I am aware of," I replied, musing upon the fact that he bore my name.
"He often comes to see Mrs. Loraine, and peoplesay they are engaged to be married," continued Kate.
"Where does he live?"
"I'm not very sure, but I think it is in Philadelphia. He stays at the Cannondale Hotel about a week at a time, and comes to Mrs. Loraine's every day."
"How often does he come to Cannondale?"
"Every two or three months, I should think. But I don't see much of him. I have been kept in my chamber most of the time," she added, sadly.
"Did you ever hear him speak about Amos Thornton, my uncle?"
"Never."
"You say he is going to be Mrs. Loraine's husband."
"That's what people say; I don't know anything about it, only that he is very often at the house."
"Do you know anything about Mr. Thornton?" I continued. "Is he rich?"
"I don't know whether he is or not. I think he must be. He always takes her out to ride with a span of fine horses."
"Is Mrs. Loraine very rich herself?"
"She is not very rich herself. She has what my father left her by his will."
"Of course your father left something to you," added Bob Hale.
"Mr. Windleton called me a little heiress two years ago, and said I should have forty thousand dollars when I was old enough to receive it."
"Who is Mr. Windleton?"
"He was a great friend of my father. He keeps the money that belongs to me. I forget what they call him."
"A trustee," suggested Bob, who was somewhat earned in the law.
"Yes; that's what he said he was. My father gave his wife only half as much as he gave me; but I wish he had given her all of his property," said Kate, looking over into the water.
"Why do you wish so?" I asked.
"I think she would have been kinder to me. Mr. Windleton's daughter Ellen told me, if I should die, that my money would go to Mrs. Loraine. I don't know whether it is true or not;" and without any apparent reason, Kate burst into tears.
Bob and I comforted her as well as we could.
"I'm afraid," she continued, when she had wiped away her tears, "she hopes I shall die."
"I guess not," I added. "That would be horrible."
"Why does she treat me so then—not even let me look out the window?" sobbed she. "I think she wants my money. I have tried to think it was not so, but I can't, ever since Ellen Windleton told me that."
"Why don't you tell Mr. Windleton how your step-mother treats you?" asked Bob.
"He and his whole family are in Europe. They have been there more than a year. I shall tell him when he comes back; but Mrs. Loraine is my guardian."
"Ernest, we are almost over to Parkville, and it is time to know what we are to do with Miss Loraine. It won't do to take her to Parkville," said Bob.
"I will stay in the boat all night. That's a nice little place in there," interposed Kate, pointing to the cuddy.
"You may go in there now, if you please," Iadded. "I will land you, Bob, and take care of Kate myself. It is quite dark now, and I can take her up to the cottage. No one will find her there."
"What will your uncle say?"
"He will not see her; if he does, he won't say anything; he never says anything."
My friend was entirely willing to take his share of the responsibility, but I was satisfied that I could dispose of my fair passenger without any assistance. I landed him at the steamboat pier, and then stood over towards the cottage.
THE Splash continued on her course up the lake, after I had landed Bob Hale. It was quite dark, and I told Kate she need not stay in the cuddy any longer. She came out, and sat down near me. I was still in doubt as to what I should do with her; and now that Bob had left me, the problem seemed more difficult than before. Mrs. Loraine was not a woman to let the matter rest where it was. She was full of spirit and vindictiveness, and as she was the legal guardian of Kate, she would not let her escape pass unnoticed.
In the morning, if not before, it would be discovered that the bird had flown. After the interest Bob and I had manifested in the welfare of the young lady, her guardian would know where to apply forinformation, and I might expect to hear from her in the course of twenty-four hours, and it was not improbable that the search would be commenced that very evening. I told Kate, as we sailed along, that her absence would create a tempest in the household of her step-mother, and that we must be prepared for vigorous proceedings on her part.
"I hope I haven't got you into trouble, Ernest Thornton," said she, her tones indicating much anxiety.
"Never mind me, Kate. I am used to trouble, and I can stand anything. I only hope I shall be able to keep you safe from your enemies."
"Can't I stay in this boat? That cabin is a nice place; I am sure it seems like a fairy palace to me, compared with my prison house in the attic chamber."
"You might stay in the cabin a day or two; but of course you can't live there for any great length of time. You say you have an uncle in New York city."
"I have. If I could only find him I should be safe. I never saw him, at least not since I can remember;but as he is my father's brother, he must be something like my father, and he will take care of me."
"How can we get you to New York? That's the question."
"If I could only reach the railroad, I should not be afraid to go alone," she added, earnestly. "I am sure I could find my uncle, for his name is not a very common one."
"But I don't think it would be safe for you to go alone. We must manage that some way or other, though I hardly know how. It will need some money to pay your fare."
"Dear me! so it will!" exclaimed she, blankly. "And I haven't a single cent!"
"Never mind, Kate; we will manage that. I can raise the money for you, and see that you get to New York."
"You are very kind, Ernest Thornton," replied she, warmly. "I shall have plenty of money some time, and will pay you back every cent."
"There will be no trouble about that," I added. "I am only thinking how I shall get you safely toyour destination; but I am going to do it somehow or other. Are you not afraid to stay in the boat all night?"
"O, no! I'm not afraid of anything but my attic chamber."
"My cabin isn't a bad place to stay in. I have slept there a great many nights, in all parts of the lake, sometimes miles from any house."
"I'm not a bit afraid, Ernest Thornton. Why, the cabin is a splendid place, and there are two nice beds there. I'm sure I don't want any better room than that. I could live there a whole year."
"You will not have to stay there long. Just as soon as I can get the money, and find some one to go with you to New York, I shall sail up the creek, where there is a railroad station, and you shall start for New York. Now we are almost to the cottage of my uncle, and you had better keep out of sight, for I don't want any one to see you."
She crawled into the cuddy, and sat down on one of the berths. I always moored the Splash about ten rods from the shore, so that she could lie in the deep water. The row-boat in which I came off toher was fastened to the buoy, so that I easily found the place in the darkness, and made fast to the moorings. I lowered my sails, and put every thing in order as usual.
"Now, Kate, I think you will be perfectly safe here. I will bring you off some supper very soon."
"I don't need any supper. Mrs. Loraine sent me some before she went out to ride; but I could not eat a mouthful."
"No matter; I will bring off something, and see you again to-night."
I went ashore in the row-boat. My supper was waiting for me in the dining-room. After I had finished the meal, I buttered several slices of bread, and wrapped them in a napkin, with some cheese and some cake. Probably old Betsey, the housekeeper, thought I had a ravenous appetite that night; but she never asked any questions, or expressed any surprise at anything which occurred at the cottage. I pulled off to the boat again, and gave the contents of the napkin to Kate.
"I am sorry I can't light the lantern, Kate," I added, as I handed her the provisions; "but I'mafraid it would betray you, if Mrs. Loraine should happen to come here in search of you to-night."
"I don't care to have a light. I am so rejoiced to get away from my prison that I don't care for anything," said she, with enthusiasm. "You don't know how much I have suffered over there, Ernest Thornton."
"I hope you have seen the last of it; but we must be very careful. In the morning you must stay in your cabin, for my uncle gets up very early, and walks all about the place. You must not let him see you on any account."
"I will not. I will be as careful as you can desire."
"In the morning I hope I shall be able to do something with you."
"I shall trust myself wholly to you, Ernest Thornton, and one of these days I hope to be able to repay you for your goodness to me."
"Never mind that, Kate; I am going to do what I think is right because it is right. I suppose you thought it was rather hard in me to take you ashore at the pier over there, this afternoon; but I'm sureI shouldn't have dared to do what I have done if I hadn't seen Mrs. Loraine, and satisfied myself that she ill-treated you."
"I think you did just right, Ernest Thornton; but I was willing to suffer rather than get you into trouble."
"I don't care for myself; it don't make much difference what happens to me. If I can only enable you to reach your uncle in New York city, that is all I want. But it is getting late now, and I think you had better go to sleep. You can do as I do, Kate, when I sleep on board. I always lock myself in."
I explained to her how this was done. There were two doors opening into the cuddy, one on each side of the mainmast, with a slide over each. Outside of these doors were two round holes, which I had sawed in the bulkhead for ventilation. By reaching the arm through one of these apertures the slide could be locked. I fastened Kate into the cuddy, and then gave her the key, with which she opened the door without difficulty herself.
"I shall keep a good lookout for you," said I, as I pulled my tender alongside.
"I am not a bit afraid, Ernest Thornton," replied she. "I shall pray for you, and thank God for giving me such a good friend."
"Good night," I added, speaking through the round hole.
"Good night; and don't worry about me," replied she.
So far as her comfort was concerned, there was not the least need of worrying about her, for the cabin of the Splash was a miniature parlor. There were two good hair mattresses in the berths, with plenty of bed-clothes. The floor was carpeted, and there was every convenience which so small an apartment could contain. I had slept there for a week together; and when my uncle had banished me from his house, I had intended to live on board of her all the time, and earn my living by carrying out parties. So long as no one disturbed her, I had no fears in regard to my guest in the boat.
But I was very much troubled about the final disposal of her. It would not be safe for her to go to New York alone. It might be several days before she found her uncle, and it was not proper to subjecta young girl like her to the perils of the great city without a protector. I had no objection to making a trip to New York myself. The spring vacation would commence on the following Monday, and I could be absent from home a whole week without being missed, if I kept the Splash out of sight, for my uncle would suppose I was off on a cruise in her.
This plan pleased me, and I determined to carry it out. School kept but two days more before the vacation, and if I could only keep Kate out of sight till Monday, everything would work well. The financial question was not a difficult one to manage. I calculated that about thirty dollars would pay the expenses of the trip to the metropolis; and uncle Amos would give me this sum or more, without asking a single question. I had about ten dollars on hand, which would be a sufficient margin for contingencies.
The whole matter was as luminous now as youth and enthusiasm could wish; and I went to my chamber satisfied that I had solved the problem. It seemed to me that the only possible obstacle to thecomplete success of my scheme would be the interference of Mrs. Loraine and her friends. In the morning, at farthest, the search for the escaped prisoner would be commenced. But I could do nothing to provide against emergencies in this direction. I could only wait till I saw how "the land lay" in the morning, and then trust to my own skill and dash to overcome the difficulties as they presented themselves. In my prayers I remembered poor Kate, and asked the blessing of Heaven upon her. I felt sure that the Good Father would help me to save her from the cruel persecution to which she was subjected. Having thus commended myself and Kate to the care of Him who watches over the innocent, I turned over and went to sleep.
My slumber was soon disturbed by a violent pounding at the front door of the cottage, which was just beneath my window. I leaped up in the bed and listened. They were not doubtful sounds that I heard, and they appeared to be made by the heel of a heavy boot. The person who demanded admission to the cottage at that unseemly hour was evidently in earnest, and the door groaned under thevigorous assaults he made upon it. Of course I could not be uncertain in regard to the errand of the midnight visitor—for such the striking of the clock in the hall below now assured me he was. "The tug of war" was at hand, and I was to be called upon at once to "face the music."
I decided not to be forward in meeting the messenger from Mrs. Loraine, whoever he was. It was possible, if not probable, that she had sent the deputy sheriff after me; and this terrible official might hurry me off from my bed to a cell in the Cannondale lockup, heedless of the fact that I was found in another county. If I was arrested, what would become of poor Kate? The cold sweat stood on my brow as I thought of her. But I came to the conclusion that I would not be arrested by any deputy sheriff, or any one else, if I could possibly avoid it; and it was a satisfaction for me to hear the wind piping merrily at my window, for that would give heels to the Splash, if a hurried departure became necessary.
THE knocking at the door of the cottage was continued almost without intermission. The visitor was evidently endowed with only a small portion of the necessary virtue of patience, for when he ceased pounding for an instant, it was only to curse and swear at the heaviness of the sleepers within. I was sure that old Jerry and Betsey, who slept in the rear of the house, would not hear the summons, even if the imperative messenger broke the door down; but I was rather surprised that my uncle, who, I always supposed, slept with one eye open, if he ever slept at all, did not answer the call more promptly.
I got out of bed, and looked out at the window, hoping to obtain a sight of the visitor; but the night was too dark for me to distinguish his form or features.Again he swore, and again he hammered away at the door. What they do in New Jersey when it rains is toletit rain; and what I did when he pounded was tolethim pound. I was perfectly willing he should pound; I even hoped that he enjoyed it. In spite of the anxiety I felt for poor Kate, I could not help laughing at the ludicrous earnestness with which he swore and pounded. Like most men, my uncle was cool when he was not excited; and as there had been nothing on the present occasion to excite him, I suppose he was cool. Doubtless he stopped to dress himself before he answered the summons. Very likely the dread necessity of speaking to the visitor appalled him, and he desired to postpone the trying ordeal as long as possible.
I am obliged to acknowledge my belief that Mrs. Loraine's messenger was exceedingly unreasonable, for he did not intermit his hammering long enough to ascertain whether any one was coming to the door or not. What was not more than five minutes in fact, might have seemed to be half an hour to him. Within as short a time as could have been properly expected, I heard the door of my uncle's libraryopen, and uneasily I listened for the result. The bolt on the front door creaked and grated. The door opened with difficulty, and while my uncle was tugging at it, I lifted the sash of my window a couple of inches, that I might hear what passed.
The door swung back, and I put my head to the window to catch the first words that were spoken. Of course my uncle was not the first to utter them; he seldom spoke, and never was surprised into speaking, even on an emergency.
"Well, governor," said the messenger, crustily, "you sleep like a rock. Where is that confounded boy of yours?"
"In bed," replied my uncle.
"Rout him out; I want him," continued the visitor, pushing his way into the house.
This movement prevented me from hearing what followed immediately; but I hastened to my door, hoping to catch a word which would enable me to determine who the person was.
"The young villain has run away with Mrs. Loraine's step-daughter," I heard him say, as I opened the door wide enough to permit me to catch thesound. "I tell you, governor, you must get rid of the young vagabond, or he will swamp the whole of us."
"Hush! he will hear you," said uncle Amos.
"No matter. I have pounded away hard enough to wake the dead. If that didn't rouse him, nothing will," added the messenger, gruffly.
"Silence!"
"I have had about enough of this thing," continued the rough visitor. "You insist on keeping the whelp here, when you know he is a bombshell in your path and mine. Why don't you send him to sea, and let him get drowned?"
"Be still, Thomas," replied my uncle, in a whisper.
"I won't be still, governor. The vagabond has run away with that girl, and—"
They passed into the dining-room, and I could not hear the rest of the sentence. The visitor was Tom Thornton, for my uncle called him Thomas. I was a vagabond, and a bombshell in the path of both of them. Tom called my uncle "governor," and this indicated that he was his son. I half suspected this before, but it was news to me to learn that I wasregarded as a dangerous young man. Why was I dangerous? I had not done anything to imperil the life or the fortunes of either of them.
My uncle would not tell me anything about my father, or my mother, save that the latter was insane and the inmate of an asylum. Now, Tom objected because I had not been sent to sea to be drowned! They were talking about me down stairs, and I slipped on my pants, and crept down the stairs. I found that they had entered my uncle's library, and the spring lock on the door had fastened it. I listened, but I could not distinguish what was said.
I was determined not to be balked in my purpose, for this was an opportunity which might not occur again for years to obtain some clew to my own affairs. In fact, I had resolutely resolved to SEEK AND FIND my mother, who was still living; and I wanted information.
The library of my uncle was contained in an addition to the house which had been erected after the completion of the original structure. It was on the end of the house, and could be reached only through his chamber. The roof was flat, and covered withtin plates. On the side fronting the lake there was a bay window. The middle sash was generally open at the top in warm weather, as I had no doubt it was at the present time.
I stole softly up stairs to my chamber, from which one of the windows opened upon the flat roof over the library. I raised this window, and crawled like a cat over to the bay window, the top of which was considerably lower than the roof. Lying down on the projection, I placed my head near the top of the window. I was rejoiced to find that I could hear the voices of the occupants of the room below me. More than this, a lucky thought, as I regarded it, occurred to me as I lay there. The window was pulled down at the top, and I found that I could get into the room almost as easily as I could stay out. I deemed this an important discovery, for I fully intended, at the first convenient opportunity, to explore the library. Though the thought came to me, I did not follow out its leading at this time.
"How can I get rid of him?" demanded uncle Amos, as I placed my head near the open sash; andit was evident that the parties had made some progress in the discussion while I was securing my position.
"Send him off. I can find a place for him in a store in New Orleans, where the yellow fever will make an end of him," replied Tom.
"Thomas, I will not harm him. I don't want to kill him," added uncle Amos.
"Of course you don't want to kill him—let the fever do that. Let him go away, and lose the run of you. Something must be done at once. He is a smart boy, they say, and if he should happen to get an idea, he would blow you and me so high that we never should come down."
That was an idea, and I happened to get it.
"My son, I have stained my soul with crime for your sake," added my uncle, bitterly. "We have wronged this boy enough. I will not have him injured."
"I don't wish to injure him, only to get him out of the way, so that he will lose the run of you," replied Tom, petulantly. "He don't know anything about me."
"Don't flatter yourself, Tom Thornton," I thought, but did not say.
"I am willing to do anything proper to be done with him. He will graduate soon at the Institute, and we must find a place for him in some business," said uncle Amos.
"I will find a situation for him in New Orleans."
"Not to take his life."
"No, no; certainly not. I know of a firm there that wants a young man from the north, and you must send him off in the course of a week. Now, what has the villain done with that girl?"
"I don't know; he has not brought her here," answered my uncle.
"What has he done with her? There was a young fellow with him; do you know who he was?"
"Probably the Hale boy. They run together."
"What could they have done with the girl?"
"I don't know. What motive had they for carrying her off?"
"Out of pity I suppose. Kate is a careless girl, wilful, and disobedient. She objects to being shut up in her chamber for her misdemeanors."
Tom Thornton related the incident in which Bob and I had been concerned on the pier.
"The child must have been badly abused, or she would not have jumped into the lake," said uncle Amos, when he had heard the story.
"It does not concern you or me whether she has been or not. I fancy the girl is not of much use to any one."
"Why do you run after her, then?"
"What's the use of arguing the question. Mrs. Loraine wishes me to find the girl, and return her; and I'm going to do it, if I have to choke your smart boy to get at it. Where is he?"
"In his chamber; but you must not harm him," replied uncle Amos, nervously. "He is as high-spirited as his father was."
"What do I care for that? He must tell me where the girl is."
"Perhaps he will not be willing to tell you."
"Then I shall make him do so," added Tom, savagely; and it seemed to me he was getting up a very pleasant prospect for me.
"You must handle him very carefully," said my uncle, nervously.
"If he tells me where the girl is, that's all I want of him. If he don't, I shall—I shall crush it out of him. He will find I am not made of milk and water."
"You will find I am not, either," I said to myself, as, when Tom moved towards the door, I rose from my recumbent posture, and hastened back to my chamber.
I slipped off my pants, and got into bed again, that I might not be suspected of having left it. I had scarcely done so before Tom entered my room with a lamp in his hand. I opened my eyes, rubbed them, and stared at him.
"I want to see you, youngster," he began. "I suppose you don't know me. My name is Jones."
"If your name is Jones, my name is Smith," I replied, with gross imprudence.
He looked at me, and appeared to be startled by my sharp and reckless reply. Very likely he thought me as smart as my reputation.
"Your name is Thornton," said he.
"So is yours," I answered; and I couldn't help it.
He stared at me again. Perhaps he concludedthat I had obtained my information of Kate Loraine, and he knew that I had seen him at her step-mother's house.
"What have you done with that girl?" demanded he.
"Hold on a moment till I dress myself," I replied, as I jumped out of bed, and began to put on my clothes.
FROM my perch over the bay window of the library, I had heard Tom Thornton express his savage determination to crush out of me the information he wanted. Being forewarned, I was in a measure forearmed, and I did not intend to be caught in a vulnerable position. I decided to do a little light skirmishing before the battle opened. What I had seen and heard of my assailant gave me a wonderful self-possession, for which I could not account to myself.
I hurried on my clothing, though I dressed myself with the expectation of taking a cruise on the lake before my head rested on the pillow again. Though I felt that it was my first duty to protect Kate Loraine, and send her to a place ofsafety, I fully realized that I had a battle of my own to fight. By their own confession, Tom and his father had wronged me deeply. If my mother was still living, as I believed she was, they had probably wronged her a hundred fold more than me. With these thoughts and feelings, an impulse of desperation seemed to inspire me. I was ready for anything, but I was astonished and amazed at my own calmness.
"Do you think I'm going to wait all night for an answer?" demanded Tom, gruffly, before I had half finished dressing myself.
"If I am to give the answer, I expect you will wait till I get ready," I replied.
"Do you, indeed?" stormed he.
"I do, indeed."
He moved towards me, and I retreated to a corner of the room, where stood a heavy base-ball bat, which had been presented to me for skilful playing. That corner was my base of supplies.
"Do you know where that girl is?" said he, pausing and glancing at my muscular artillery in the corner.
"Hold on a minute, till I am dressed, and I will answer the question."
"Answer it now—this instant."
"Not yet."
"What do you mean, you young villain? Do you intend to insult me?"
"That question is rather refreshing, Mr. Tom Thornton, after coming to my room in the middle of the night as you did. Do you mean to insult me?"
"Insult you, you young villain!" sneered he.
"Insult me, you old villain! for I'm sure you have had a deal of experience in the villain line."
"Will you answer my question, or not? Do you know where that girl is?" he continued, when he saw it was as easy for me to use harsh epithets as for him.
"When I have dressed myself I will answer, but not till then," I replied, adjusting my collar with more than usual care. "Mr. Tom Thornton, I don't wish to quarrel with you on our first acquaintance. Besides it don't look well for near relations to quarrel."
"What do you mean by near relations?" he asked, evincing some alarm.
"Your name is Thornton, and so is mine. As you come to the house of my uncle, I suppose we must be relations. But I assure you I have no particular desire to claim kindred with you."
"You are an impudent young cub; and if you are any relation to me, you shall have some of the starch taken out of you before you grow half an inch taller," replied Tom; and in the war of words I felt that I had the weather-gage of him, for I knew things of which he supposed I was entirely ignorant.
"I don't think my impudence exceeds yours, Mr. Tom Thornton. You didn't come into my room behaving like a gentleman," I answered, as I put on my sack coat.
"I am not in the habit of having a boy speak to me as you do."
"I am not in the habit of having any one speak to me as you do," I retorted. "But I don't want to quarrel with you, as I said before."
"Well, Mr. Ernest Thornton, if your high mightiness is ready to condescend to answer my question, I must beg the favor of a reply," sneered he, putting the lamp down upon the table.
"Take a seat, Mr. Thornton. Your speech is improving," I added, throwing myself into a chair near my base of supplies.
I think my visitor was entirely satisfied by this time that he could make nothing by bullying me; and it seemed to me that in reaching this point I had accomplished a great deal. Tom Thornton sat down in a chair, near the table where he had deposited the lamp.
"Thank you, Mr. Ernest Thornton. I am seated, and await your further pleasure," he continued, with a curling lip.
"You intimated that you came on business."
"I certainly hinted as much as that."
"And your business relates to Miss Kate Loraine?"
"It does. I took the liberty to inquire if you knew where she was at the present time. A direct and unequivocal answer to this question would oblige your humble servant very much," said Tom, nervously; and I saw that it was with the greatest difficulty he could confine himself to this satirical style of speech—for he wanted to break out in menace and violence, to crush me with hard words and savagedemonstrations, which prudent cunning restrained him from using. "Do you know where the girl is?"
"I do," I replied, promptly. "I trust my reply is sufficiently direct and unequivocal."
"It is; and you will oblige me by informing me, as directly and unequivocally,whereshe is," said he, rising from his chair.
"I am sorry to disoblige you, Mr. Tom Thornton; but I must respectfully decline to give you any information on that point," I answered, firmly.
"Am I to understand that you refuse to tell me where she is?" demanded he, turning up the cuff of one of his coat-sleeves.
"That was the idea I intended to convey," I replied, imitating his example by rolling up one of my coat-sleeves.
"You won't tell me."
"No, sir."
"You know where she is?"
"I do."
"And won't tell?"
"I will not."
He turned up the other coat-sleeve, and I did the same.
"I'll tell you what it is, youngster, we have played this farce long enough," Tom proceeded, in a rage. "I want you to understand that I am not to be trifled with. You may make a fool of the old man, but you can't make a fool of me."
"Perhaps nature has already done that kindly act for you," I put in, as he paused to take a long breath with which to whet his wrath.
I know, now, that it was wrong for me to make these saucy and irritating replies; but I could not well help it then. Tom Thornton was a villain, by his own confession. My uncle had declared that he had stained his soul with crime for his son's sake. Whichever was the greater villain, it was clear that the son was the more obdurate, graceless, and unrepentant of the two. I had no patience with him. I had no respect for him, and I certainly had no fear of him. Even policy would not permit me to treat him with a consideration I did not feel.
"For your insults we will settle by and by; at present my business relates to this girl," said he, smarting under my charge.
"Well, Mr. Tom Thornton, so far as Miss Loraineis concerned, your business with me is finished," I replied.
"Not yet; before I have done you will be glad to tell me where the girl is."
"I will tell you nothing in regard to her."
"I command you to tell me where she is."
"You may command, if you choose."
"And I will be obeyed," said he, furiously.
"You will see whether you are or not."
"Who are you, young man, that have the impudence to enter the house of a lady, and entice away her daughter?" foamed he.
"I am Ernest Thornton. I did not enter the house after you rode off with the lady; I did not entice the girl away, and she is not the lady's daughter."
"Silence! Don't you contradict me. You ran away with the girl!"
I whistled a popular air, simply to prove that I was not intimidated, and that Tom was not getting along very rapidly.
"Once more, and for the last time," roared Tom, foaming with passion, "will you tell me where the girl is, or will you take the consequences?"
"If it's all the same to you, I'll take the consequences," I answered.
"Very well; you will take them, or you will tell me the whole truth," said he, savagely, as he rushed to the door.
There was a key in the lock, which I seldom or never used. He took it out, left the room, and locked the door behind him. He was evidently so much in earnest that he did not intend I should escape the fiery furnace he was preparing for me. I could not but laugh at his folly in thinking to confine a live boy of sixteen in the chamber of a cottage. I concluded that he had gone for a stick, a club, or some other weapon, with which to reduce me to subjection.
Though I felt able with the base-ball bat to defend myself from the assaults of Tom, I did not court the conflict. There was room for an accident which might deprive me of the power to serve Kate in the hour of her extremity; and I was disposed to keep her on the safe side, if I did not keep there myself. I heard the heavy footsteps of Tom Thornton, as he descended the stairs, and walked through the hall.I concluded that he would see my uncle before he returned. I slipped off my shoes, and put one in each side pocket of my sack. Fearing that my bat might be removed during my absence, I thrust it up the chimney, at the fireplace, resting one end on a jamb, where I could easily reach it.
Carefully opening the window, I stepped down upon the roof of the library, and thence to the top of the bay window, to the position I had before occupied. My uncle was in the library, but Tom was not with him, and I concluded that he had gone out of the cottage for the weapon he wanted. I felt safe enough, however; for, by lying down on the top of the bay window, close to the wall of the building, I could not be seen by any one who did not come close to the place where I was concealed.
I bent over and looked into the library window a second time. By the side of the grate, at the end of the room, a small iron safe had been built into the brick-work of the chimney, in which my uncle kept his papers and other valuables. In the occasional visits I had made to the library, after I was conscious of the mystery which shrouded my affairs,I had gazed wistfully at the iron door of this safe, and longed to possess the secrets which it contained. I believed that there were papers in that strong box which could tell me where my mother was, or give me some clew to her place of imprisonment. Perhaps the whole history of my father's family was contained within its iron sides. Perhaps the story of my wrongs could be traced from the documents there. If not, why was I so carefully excluded from the library?
I felt a deep and thrilling interest when I glanced into the room, and saw uncle Amos seated before the open door of this safe.