The nozzle of his gun was pointed full upon me, as Icould see, with the moonlight striking on the barrel;he was not more than fifty yards off, and now he began to reckon. Being almost desperate about it, I began to whistle, wondering how far I should get before I lost my windpipe: and as luck would have it, my lips fell into that strange tune I had practised last; the one Ihad heard from Charlie. My mouth would scarcely frame the notes, being parched with terror; but to my surprise, the man fell back, dropped his gun, and saluted. Oh, sweetest of all sweet melodies!
That tune was Carver Doone's passport (as I heard long afterwards), which Charleworth Doone had imitated, for decoy of Lorna. The sentinel took me for that vile Carver; who was like enough to be prowling there, for private talk with Lorna; but not very likely to shout forth his name, if it might be avoided. The watchman, perceiving the danger perhaps of intruding on Carver's privacy, not only retired along the cliff, but withdrew himself to good distance.
Meanwhile he had done me the kindest service; for Lorna came to the window at once, to see what the cause of the shout was, and drew back the curtain timidly. Then she opened the rough lattice; and then she watched the cliff and trees; and then she sighed very sadly.
'Oh, Lorna, don't you know me?' I whispered from the side, being afraid of startling her by appearing over suddenly.
Quick though she always was of thought, she knew me not from my whisper, and was shutting the window hastily when I caught it back, and showed myself.
'John!' she cried, yet with sense enough not to speak aloud: 'oh, you must be mad, John.'
'As mad as a March hare,' said I, 'without any news of my darling. You knew I would come: of course you did.'
'Well, I thought, perhaps--you know: now, John, you need not eat my hand. Do you see they have put iron bars across?'
'To be sure. Do you think I should be contented, even with this lovely hand, but for these vile iron bars. Iwill have them out before I go. Now, darling, for one moment--just the other hand, for a change, you know.'
So I got the other, but was not honest; for I kept them both, and felt their delicate beauty trembling, as Ilaid them to my heart.
'Oh, John, you will make me cry directly'--she had been crying long ago--'if you go on in that way. You know we can never have one another; every one is against it.
Why should I make you miserable? Try not to think of me any more.'
'And will you try the same of me, Lorna?'
'Oh yes, John; if you agree to it. At least I will try to try it.'
'Then you won't try anything of the sort,' I cried with great enthusiasm, for her tone was so nice and melancholy: 'the only thing we will try to try, is to belong to one another. And if we do our best, Lorna, God alone can prevent us.'
She crossed herself, with one hand drawn free as Ispoke so boldly; and something swelled in her little throat, and prevented her from answering.
'Now tell me,' I said; 'what means all this? Why are you so pent up here? Why have you given me no token?
Has your grandfather turned against you? Are you in any danger?'
'My poor grandfather is very ill: I fear that he will not live long. The Counsellor and his son are now the masters of the valley; and I dare not venture forth, for fear of anything they might do to me. When I went forth, to signal for you, Carver tried to seize me; but I was too quick for him. Little Gwenny is not allowed to leave the valley now; so that I could send no message. I have been so wretched, dear, lest you should think me false to you. The tyrants now make sure of me. You must watch this house, both night and day, if you wish to save me. There is nothing they would shrink from; if my poor grandfather--oh, I cannot bear to think of myself, when I ought to think of him only; dying without a son to tend him, or a daughter to shed a tear.'
'But surely he has sons enough; and a deal too many,' Iwas going to say, but stopped myself in time: 'why do none of them come to him?'
'I know not. I cannot tell. He is a very strange old man; and few have ever loved him. He was black with wrath at the Counsellor, this very afternoon--but Imust not keep you here--you are much too brave, John;and I am much too selfish: there, what was that shadow?'