"I have told you once. Why pain me by forcing another hard reply,"
she said pitifully, still shrinking from his grasp and seeming to appeal to his
brother.
"You wrote a few lines, but I'll not be satisfied with that. You shall
answer; I've seen love in your eyes, heard it in your voice, and I know it is
hidden in your heart. You fear to own it; do not hesitate, no one can part
us—speak, Jean, and satisfy me."
Drawing her hand decidedly away, she went a step nearer Coventry , and answered, slowly, distinctly, though
her lips trembled, and she evidently dreaded the effect of her words, "I
will speak, and speak truly. You have seen love in my face; it is in my heart,
and I do not hesitate to own it, cruel as it is to force the truth from me, but
this love is not for you. Are you satisfied?"
He looked at her with a despairing glance and stretched his hand toward her
beseechingly. She seemed to fear a blow, for suddenly she clung to Gerald with
a faint cry. The act, the look of fear, the protecting gesture Coventry involuntarily made were too much for Edward, already excited by conflicting passions. In a paroxysm of
blind wrath, he caught up a large pruning knife left there by the gardener, and
would have dealt his brother a fatal blow had he not warded it off with his
arm. The stroke fell, and another might have followed had not Miss Muir with
unexpected courage and strength wrested the knife from Edward and flung it into
the little pond near by. Coventry dropped down upon the seat, for the blood poured from a deep wound in
his arm, showing by its rapid flow that an artery had been severed. Edward
stood aghast, for with the blow his fury passed, leaving him overwhelmed with
remorse and shame.
Gerald looked up at him, smiled faintly, and said, with no sign of reproach or
anger, "Never mind, Ned. Forgive and forget. Lend me a hand to the house,
and don't disturb anyone. It's not much, I dare say." But his lips
whitened as he spoke, and his strength failed him. Edward sprang to support
him, and Miss Muir, forgetting her terrors, proved herself a girl of uncommon
skill and courage.
"Quick! Lay him down. Give me your handkerchief, and bring some
water," she said, in a tone of quiet command. Poor Ned obeyed and watched
her with breathless suspense while she tied the handkerchief tightly around the
arm, thrust the handle of his riding whip underneath, and pressed it firmly
above the severed artery to stop the dangerous flow of blood.
"Dr. Scott is with your mother, I think. Go and bring him here" was
the next order; and Edward darted away, thankful to do anything to ease the
terror which possessed him. He was gone some minutes, and while they waited Coventry watched the girl as she knelt beside him,
bathing his face with one hand while with the other she held the bandage firmly
in its place. She was pale, but quite steady and self-possessed, and her eyes
shone with a strange brilliancy as she looked down at him. Once, meeting his
look of grateful wonder, she smiled a reassuring smile that made her lovely,
and said, in a soft, sweet tone never used to him before, "Be quiet. There
is no danger. I will stay by you till help comes."
Help did come speedily, and the doctor's first words were "Who improvised
that tourniquet?"
"She did," murmured Coventry .
"Then you may thank her for saving your life. By Jove! It was capitally
done"; and the old doctor looked at the girl with as much admiration as
curiosity in his face.
"Never
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