The Skeleton Crew; Or, Wildfire Ned — page 122: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

i TI IER NE a 116 THE SKELETON CREW; OR, WILDFIRE NED. ee eee eeEee——eEeEEOEEEEe ET rT een a collegians have been down to the bridge, but there are no traces of the struggle, and the poor lad him- self is insensible. “¢T don’t know how the case stands, but it looks an ugly wound, very, and the doctor shakes his head ominously. I would give ten thousand pounds on the spot to “ string up”’ the rascal who did it. “* Here we are, girls, home at last. I know you must be fatigued, both of you ;’ and as he handed them from the carriage, he kissed them affection- ately, and they immediately retired to their room. “* Jack,’ said the colonel to a servant, seating himself on the moonlit verandah, and lighting his pipe, ‘bring me a cup of wine—that’s it. You acted well to-night, and [ shan’t forget it. It was ‘‘ Pink,” you say, who first discovered him,eh? Lucky it was so, or he would have sunk for a certainty. Well, look here, Jack, you and Ike sit up to-night. I’m going to Lord Stoner’s again, and if Miss Clare wants to see me in the morning, tell her I shall be back by breakfast.’ “Calling the hound, ‘ Pink,’ the old man shoul- dered his double barrel shot gun, and went to Lord Stoner’s by the forest path, lingering by the bridge for some time in deep thought. “The breeze of early morning began to blow, and early cocks crew salutations that echoed far and near on the quiet landscape. *‘ Hour followed hour, and neither Clare nor Lady Bray could sleep. “Clare had prayed longer than usual, and courted sleep, but it came not. “ Lady Bray, on the contrary, had sat in an arm chair, thinking of all manner of things, and pacing her room to and fro. “ At last she went to Clare’s door, and tapped and entered. “Oh, Clare,’ she said, seating herself on the bedside, ‘I feel so miserable! I cannot tell why it is; but that poor youth is always before my eyes! Oh! I am glad you gid not see the sight (Clare had done so), it was awful! All his clothes were wet and dirty and bloody, and his face like marble. Oh! what a horrible crime it was! I cannot sleep for thinking of it! Let.me lie with you, Clare.’ “And both cousins lay side by side. ““¢ What is the matter, Clare 7’ said Lady Bray, who felt tear-drops falling on her hand. ‘ You are weeping !’ “Clare, who had not spoken, was struggling des- perately to conceal her emotion; but nature was strong, and she burst out passionately in sobs. “¢ Oh! cousin, forgive me! I cannot be a hypocrite longer! You, who tells me everything, would not guess how or what I have concealed. Oh! had it been Heaven’s will I would died rather than this should have happened to him !’ “Lady Bray passed her arm round the sobbing girl, and drew still closer to her, listening breath- lessly to all that flowed from her as she went on passionately and rapidly, *¢T never knew till now how much I could feel ; but it is too much. I have concealed my thoughts from all. I have worn a mask, but now it falls from my face in an unexpected and unlooked- for moment.’ ) ‘Lady Bray rose on her elbow, and looked at the tear-moistened face of her pale, sobbing cousin, and after some time asked, with unnatural calmness, “¢ To you——’ ‘**Oh! cousin, do not torture me !’ * And, then, in a paroxysm of grief, added, ““« 7—have—for—years |’ “Lady Bray’s breast heaved with strong emotions. “‘ She conquered them after a quiet struggle, and, smiling with compassion on her cousin, drew her quivering form still closer to her, until poor child- like Clare, wearied with weeping, rested her head on her cousin’s breast, and went to sleep. “Lady Bray lay awake hour after hour thinking, and could not sleep. ‘She prayed for it, but it came not. “Racked with conflicting thoughts she lived part of her lifé over again, and resolved to forget all about it. “¢T thought so,’ she mused. ‘Clare could not disguise it from me. I saw it long ago; but it can never be. No! it can never be, even if he lives ! “< What pain she must have suffered to-night ! How strong is the heart beating in that pale, fragile frame ? “«No, no, Clare. Sleep on, sweet cousin; but heaven guide your heart aright, and prepare it for disappointments and trials, for they will surely come.’ “ And so passed the night until the sun began to gild the eastern clouds, and even then Lady Bray lay awake, watching the curtains moving in the breeze. “The night had been an anxious one at Lord Stoner’s. All had retired as usual, and, save the lights in his daughter’s room, with moving figures reflected on the blinds, all was still. “Dr. Newman had arrived long ago, and after consulting, both medical gentlemen began operating on the scarcely breathing, inanimate student. “ After difficulty and much effusion of blood the bullet was extracted, and the wound bandaged. “Everything had been made as comfortable as possible, and the doctors had retired, leaving Ashton, the student, and Susan, the servant, to attend till morning. “<«How is he getting on, Ashton?’ asked old Temple, noiselessly entering the room, and whisper- ing. “¢They didn’t say anything of importance; I only caught two or three words at parting. **¢ Desperate |’ said one. “¢Yes; but not mortal, I think,’ added the other. ‘He is very young, tough, and strong, and will recover, I think.’ ‘‘¢Geod news,’ responded Temple, a look @t him,’ _“ And he took the candle and looked at the sleeper, who seemed to breathe freely, with his long hair thrown from his forehead, which was as pale as snow. “¢ Took you here, Ashton,’ went on the colonel, drawing his chair very close, and speaking in whispers, ‘this was a foul piece of work, and there must have been some reason for it. You are his friend ; youand he have associated for years. Can you guess the person or the cause of all this ?’ “<Tt is a difficult matter to say. I have very good reasons to suppose it was premeditated; but by whom I cannot imagine.’ “<«You seem to speak mysteriously. Why not talk plainly ?’ “¢ Well, then, colonél, to speak plainly, I cannot, and must not, if I would. My great surprise is that I was not also a victim.’ *¢ You a victim? Why, you speak strangely, as if there existed some conspiracy. I cannot under- stand it,’ ““« No, I dare say not—at present, perhaps ; but you will, ere many years,’ said Ashton, smiling, “¢ Well, you may talk in riddles as much as you like; but, if I knew the scamp who @id this, he should have to pay dearly for it.’ ‘Let’s have nicboo