A SUMMER NIGHT.
189
we could turn round. We should miss our main object."
"You might go on, I tell you. I'd engage Helstone alone."
A pause. One of the party dropped some weapon which rang on the stone causeway: at this sound the Rectory dog barked again furiously—fiercely.
"That spoils all!" said the voice; "he'll awake: a noise like that might rouse the dead. You did not say there was a dog. Damn you! Forward!"
Forward they went,—tramp, tramp,—with mustering, manifold, slow-filing tread. They were gone.
Shirley stood erect; looked over the wall, along the road.
"Not a soul remains," she said.
She stood and mused. "Thank God!" was the next observation.
Caroline repeated the ejaculation, not in so steady a tone: she was trembling much; her heart was beating fast and thick; her face was cold; her forehead damp.
"Thank God for us!" she reiterated; "but what will happen elsewhere? They have passed us by that they may make sure of others."
"They have done well," returned Shirley, with composure: "the others will defend themselves,—they can do it,—they are prepared for them: with us it is otherwise. My finger was on the trigger of this pistol. I was quite ready to give that man, if he had entered, such a greeting as he little calculated