The air filled with cries, and Edward ran out of the house to see what was the matter; but on the spot nobody was game enough to come between the furious man and the fiery girl. The consequence was, her impetuous courage began to flag and her eye to waver; the demented man found this out by some half animal instinct, and instantly caught her by the shoulder and whirled her down on her knees; then raised his staff high to destroy her.
She screamed, and was just putting up her hands, womanlike, not to see her death as well as feel it, when something dark came past her like a rushing wind--a blow, that sounded exactly like that of a paving ram, caught Maxley on the jaw: and there was Edward Dodd blowing like a grampus with rage, and Maxley on his back in the road. But men under cerebral excitement are not easily stunned, and know no pain: he bounded off the ground, and came at Edward like a Spanish bull. Edward slipped aside, and caught him another ponderous blow that sent him staggering, and his bludgeon flew out of his hand, and Edward caught it. Lo! the maniac flew at him again more fiercely than ever; but the young Hercules had seen Jane bleeding on the ground: he dealt her assailant in full career such a murderous stroke with the bludgeon, that the people, who were running from all quarters, shrieked with dismay--not for Jane, but for Maxley; and well they might; that awful stroke laid him senseless, motionless and mute, in a pool of his own blood.
"Don't kill him, sir; don't kill the man," was the cry.
"Why not?" said Edward sternly. He then kneeled over his sweetheart and lifted her in his arms like a child. Her bonnet was all broken, her eyes were turned upwards and set, and a little blood trickled down her cheek;and that cheek seemed streaked white and red.
He was terrified, agonised; yet he gasped out, "You are safe, dear; don't be frightened."She knew the voice.
"Oh, Edward!" she said piteously and tenderly, and then moaned a little on his broad bosom. He carried her into the house out of the crowd.
Poor old doctor Phillips, coming in to end his days in the almshouse, had seen it all: he got out of his cart and hobbled up. He had been in the army, and had both experience and skill. He got her bonnet off, and at sight of her head looked very grave.
In a minute a bed was laid in the drawing-room, and all the windows and doors open: and Edward, trembling now in every limb, ran to Musgrove Cottage, while Mrs. Dodd and Julia loosened the poor girl's dress, and bathed her wounds with tepid water (the doctor would not allow cold), and put wine carefully to her lips with a teaspoon.
"Wanted at your house, pray what for?" said Mr. Hardie superciliously.
"Oh, sir," said Edward, "such a calamity. Pray come directly. A ruffian has struck her, has hurt her terribly, terribly.""Her! Who?" asked Mr. Hardie, beginning to be uneasy.
"Who! why Jane, your daughter, man; and there you sit chattering, instead of coming at once."Mr. Hardie rose hurriedly and put on his hat, and accompanied him, half confused.
Soon Edward's mute agitation communicated itself to him, and he went striding and trembling by his side.
The crowd had gone with insensible Maxley to the hospital, but the traces of the terrible combat were there. Where Maxley fell the last time, a bullock seemed to have been slaughtered at the least.
The miserable father came on this, and gave a great scream like a woman, and staggered back white as a sheet.
Edward laid his hand on him, for he seemed scarce able to stand.
"No, no, no," he cried, comprehending the mistake at last; that is not hers--Heaven forbid! That is the madman's who did it; I knocked him down with his own cudgel.""God bless you! you've killed him, I hope.""Oh, sir, be more merciful, and then perhaps He will be merciful to us, and not take this angel from us.""No! no! you are right; good young man. I little thought I had such a friend in your house.""Don't deceive yourself, sir," said Edward; "it's not you I care for:"then, with a great cry of anguish, _"I love her._"At this blunt declaration, so new and so offensive to him, Mr. Hardie winced, and stopped bewildered.
But they were at the gate, and Edward hurried him on. At the house door he drew back once more; for he felt a shiver of repugnance at entering this hateful house, of whose happiness he was the destroyer.
But enter it he must; it was his fate.
The wife of the poor Captain he had driven mad met him in the passage, her motherly eyes full of tears for him, and both hands held out to him like a pitying angel. "Oh, Mr. Hardie," she said in a broken voice, and took him, and led him, wonder-struck, stupefied, shivering with dark fears, to the room where his crushed daughter lay.
