The Greatest Works of Emma Orczy. Emma Orczy
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see the melancholy speaker, though she knew of course that it was a woman.
"Bring the lanthorn a little nearer, Jakob," she said.
"Do not stop, mejuffrouw, to parley with any of these scamps," said Maria as she clung fearsomely to her mistress's cloak.
"For the love of Christ, gentle lady!" sighed the pitiable voice out of the darkness again.
Jakob brought the lanthorn nearer.
Some half a dozen steps up the passage a pathetic little figure appeared to view, the figure of a woman — a mere girl — with ragged shift and bare legs half buried in the depths of the snow.
Gilda without hesitation went up to her, money in hand, her own feet sinking in ankle deep into the cold, white carpet below. The girl retreated as the kind lady advanced, apparently scared by the two men who had paused one at each corner of the passage holding their lanthorns well above their heads.
"Don't be frightened, girl," said Gilda Beresteyn gently, "here's a little money. You look so cold, poor child!"
The next moment a double cry behind her caused her to turn in a trice: she had only just time to take in the terrifying fact that Piet and Jakob had dropped their lanthorns to the ground even as thick dark cloths were thrown over their heads — before she found herself firmly seized round the waist by a powerful arm whilst some kind of scarf was wound quickly round her face.
She had not the time to scream, the enveloping scarf smothered her cry even as it formed in her throat. The last thing of which she was clearly conscious was of a voice — which strangely enough sounded familiar — saying hurriedly:
"Here, take thy money, girl, and run home now as fast as thy feet will take thee."
After that, though she was never totally unconscious, she was only dimly aware of what happened to her. She certainly felt herself lifted off the ground and carried for some considerable distance. What seemed to her a long, long time afterwards she became aware that she was lying on her back and that there was a smell of sweet hay and fresh straw around her. Close to her ear there was the sound of a woman moaning. The scarf still covered her face, but it had been loosened so that she could breathe, and presently when she opened her eyes, she found that the scarf only covered her mouth.
As she lay on her back she could see nothing above her. She was not cold for the straw around her formed a warm bed, and her cloak had been carefully arranged so as to cover her completely, whilst her feet were wrapped up snugly in a rug.
It was only when complete consciousness returned to her that she realized that she was lying in an object that moved: she became conscious of the jingling of harness and of occasional unpleasant jolting, whilst the darkness overhead was obviously caused by the roof of a vehicle.
She tried to raise herself on her elbow, but she discovered that loose, though quite efficient bonds held her pinioned down; her arms, however, were free and she put out her hand in the direction whence came the muffled sound of a woman moaning.
"Lord! God Almighty! Lord in Heaven!" and many more appeals of a like character escaped the lips of Gilda's companion in misfortune.
"Maria! Is it thou?" said Gilda in a whisper. Her hand went groping in the dark until it encountered firstly a cloak, then an arm and finally a head apparently also enveloped in a cloth.
"Lord God Almighty!" sighed the other woman feebly through the drapery. "Is it mejuffrouw?"
"Yes, Maria, it is I!" whispered Gilda, "whither are they taking us, thinkest thou?"
"To some lonely spot where they can conveniently murder us!" murmured Maria with a moan of anguish.
"But what became of Piet and Jakob?"
"Murdered probably. The cowards could not defend us."
Gilda strained her ears to listen. She hoped by certain sounds to make out at least in which direction she was being carried away. Above the rattle and jingle of the harness she could hear at times the measured tramp of horses trotting in the rear, and she thought at one time that the sleigh went over the wooden bridge on the Spaarne and then under the echoing portals of one of the city gates.
Her head after awhile began to ache terribly and her eyes felt as if they were seared with coal. Of course she lost all count of time: it seemed an eternity since she had spoken to the girl in the dark passage which leads to the chapel of St. Pieter.
Maria who lay beside her moaned incessantly for awhile like a fretful child, but presently she became silent.
Perhaps she had gone to sleep. The night air which found its way through the chinks of the hood came more keen and biting against Gilda's face. It cooled her eyes and eased the throbbing of her head. She felt very tired and as if her body had been bruised all over.
The noises around her became more monotonous, the tramping of the horses in the rear of the sleigh sounded muffled and subdued. Drowsiness overcame Gilda Beresteyn and she fell into a troubled, half-waking sleep.
CHAPTER XV
THE HALT AT BENNEBROCK
For a long time she had been half-awake, ever since the vehicle had stopped, which must have been ages and ages ago. She had lain in a kind of torpor, various sounds coming to her ear as through the veil of dreams: there was Maria snoring contentedly close by, and the horses champing their bits and pawing the hard-frozen ground, also there was the murmur of voices, subdued and muffled — but she could not distinguish words.
Not for a long time at any rate — an interminably long time!
Her body and limbs felt quite numb, pleasantly warm under the rugs and cloaks, only her face rejoiced in the cold blast that played around it and kept her forehead and eyes cool.
Once it seemed to her as if out of the darkness more than one pair of eyes were looking down on her, and she had the sense as of a warm rapid breath that mingled with the pure frosty air. After which some one murmured:
"She is still unconscious."
"I think not," was the whispered reply.
She lay quite still, in case those eyes came to look on her again. The murmuring voices sounded quite close to the sleigh now, and soon she found that by holding her breath, and straining her every listening faculty she could detach the words that struck her ear from all the other sounds around her.
Two men, she thought, were speaking, but their voices were never once raised above a whisper.
"You are satisfied?" she heard one of these saying quite distinctly.
"Entirely!" was the response.
"The letter to Ben Isaje?"
"I am not like to lose it."
"Hush! I heard a sound from under the hood."
"'Tis only the old woman snoring."
"I wish you could have found a more comfortable sledge."
"There was none to be had in Haarlem to-day. But we'll easily get one in Leyden."
In Leyden! Gilda's numbed body quivered with horror. She was being taken to Leyden and further on still by sleigh! Her thoughts at present were still chaotic but gradually she was sorting them out, one or two becoming more clear, more insistent than the rest.
"I would like the jongejuffrouw to have something to eat and drink," came once more in whispers from out the darkness. "I fear that she will be faint!"
"No! no!" came the prompt, peremptory reply, "it would be madness to let her realize so soon where she is. She knows this place well."
A halt on the way to Leyden! and thence a further journey by sledge! Gilda's thoughts were distinctly less chaotic already. She was beginning to marshal them up in her mind, together with her recollections