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<h3>CHAPTER LXV</h3>
<h2><i>IN THE OAK PARLOUR</i></h2>
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<p>So it was vain: I was trapped, and all was over.</p>
<p>I stood before him on the step, the white moon shining on
my face. I was trembling so that I wonder I could stand, my
helpless hands raised towards him, and I looked up in his face.
A long shuddering moan—'Oh—oh—oh!' was all I uttered.</p>
<p>The man, still holding my arm, looked, I thought frightened,
into my white dumb face.</p>
<p>Suddenly he said, in a wild, fierce whisper—</p>
<p>'Never say another word' (I had not uttered one). 'They
shan't hurt ye, Miss; git ye in; I don't care a damn!'</p>
<p>It was an uncouth speech. To me it was the voice of an angel.
With a burst of gratitude that sounded in my own ears like a
laugh, I thanked God for those blessed words.</p>
<p>In a moment more he had placed me in the carriage, and
almost instantly we were in motion—very cautiously while crossing
the court, until he had got the wheels upon the grass, and
then at a rapid pace, improving his speed as the distance increased.
He drove along the side of the back-approach to the
house, keeping on the grass; so that our progress, though swaying
like that of a ship in a swell, was very nearly as noiseless.</p>
<p>The gate had been left unlocked—he swung it open, and remounted
the box. And we were now beyond the spell of
Bartram-Haugh, thundering—Heaven be praised!—along the
Queen's highway, right in the route to Elverston. It was literally
a gallop. Through the chariot windows I saw Tom stand as he
drove, and every now and then throw an awful glance over his
shoulder. Were we pursued? Never was agony of prayer like
mine, as with clasped hands and wild stare I gazed through the
windows on the road, whose trees and hedges and gabled cottages
were chasing one another backward at so giddy a speed.</p>
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<p>We were now ascending that identical steep, with the giant
ash-trees at the right and the stile between, which my vision of
Meg Hawkes had presented all that night, when my excited
eye detected a running figure within the hedge. I saw the head
of some one crossing the stile in pursuit, and I heard Brice's
name shrieked.</p>
<p>'Drive on—on—on!' I screamed.</p>
<p>But Brice pulled up. I was on my knees on the floor of the
carriage, with clasped hands, expecting capture, when the door
opened, and Meg Hawkes, pale as death, her cloak drawn over
her black tresses, looked in.</p>
<p>'Oh!—ho!—ho!—thank God!' she screamed. 'Shake hands,
lass. Tom, yer a good un! He's a good lad, Tom.'</p>
<p>'Come in, Meg—you must sit by me,' I said, recovering all
at once.</p>
<p>Meg made no demur. 'Take my hand,' I said offering mine
to her disengaged one.</p>
<p>'I can't, Miss—my arm's broke.'</p>
<p>And so it was, poor thing! She had been espied and overtaken
in her errand of mercy for me, and her ruffian father had felled
her with his cudgel, and then locked her into the cottage,
whence, however, she had contrived to escape, and was now flying
to Elverston, having tried in vain to get a hearing in Feltram,
whose people had been for hours in bed.</p>
<p>The door being shut upon Meg, the steaming horses were
instantly at a gallop again.</p>
<p>Tom was still watching as before, with many an anxious
glance to rearward, for pursuit. Again he pulled up, and came
to the window.</p>
<p>'Oh, what is it?' cried I.</p>
<p>''Bout that letter, Miss; I couldn't help. 'Twas Dickon, he
found it in my pocket. That's a'.'</p>
<p>'Oh yes!—no matter—thank you—thank Heaven! Are we
near Elverston?'</p>
<p>''Twill be a mile, Miss: and please'm to mind I had no finger
in't.'</p>
<p>'Thanks—thank you—you're very good—I shall <i>always</i> thank
you, Tom, as long as I live!'</p>
<p>At length we entered Elverston. I think I was half wild. I
don't know how I got into the hall. I was in the oak-parlour, I
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believe, when I saw cousin Monica. I was standing, my arms extended.
I could not speak; but I ran with a loud long scream
into her arms. I forget a great deal after that.</p>
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