when lady clancarty fled wildly from her father’s house, poor alice was too much overwhelmed with the agony of the recent scene to know what to do. for the moment she gave way only to her grief, fleeing from spencer and from the woman, melissa, as she would have fled from pestilence. but she was too sensible and too faithful to remain long without making an effort to follow her mistress. in less than an hour, therefore, she had gathered up a heavy cloak and hood of lady betty’s, and assuming her own mantle, went out into the night. it took no small courage to do this, when the streets of london were beset by rogues of every class and description, and the dim streaks of light from an occasional lantern swung in some archway served only to make the darkness visible. alice, who was urged on by no frenzy like lady clancarty’s, went out with a sinking heart, her sharp sense of duty alone keeping her to her purpose. she had not dared to ask even a[pg 257] lackey from the house to attend her; these town servants were strangers to her, and everywhere she looked for treachery. poor alice wrapped her cloak around her and set out alone upon a devious course of wanderings, through every lane and byway in the vicinity, in a fruitless quest for her dear lady. sometimes the girl proceeded quietly through a deserted street; again she shrank into the shelter of a friendly doorway at the sound of high voices and drunken laughter; and again—and more than once—she dodged some ruffian who would have pounced upon her, and fled, saved by swift running, for she was fleet as any deer. the terrors of the night grew upon her until her knees shook under her. she could not imagine what evil had befallen her lovely and unhappy mistress and more than once she stopped, blinded by tears.
just as her despair reached a climax, she came in sight of the standard tavern and glanced at it timidly; even at that hour it was well lighted and full of company. as she watched, a figure came out of the door and stood by the lantern under the sign—a short, sturdy figure and a homely irish face. she recognized denis, and denis was lord clancarty’s faithful servant. she did not know[pg 258] that he had only just discovered the arrest of his master in sunderland’s house and had put his own interpretation upon it. she rushed blindly—as we do—upon fate.
“o mr. denis!” she cried, revealing her white face under her hood, “have you seen my mistress? my dear lady clancarty?”
denis wheeled and eyed her with an expression that she did not understand.
“begorra!” he ejaculated, beneath his breath, and swept down upon her like an avalanche.
“i know ye, me darlint,” he said, and there was something in his tone that sent a shiver through alice, “ye’ll walk a stip with me an’ tell me thrue all ye know of this, ivery wurd! come on, mavourneen, ’tis fer me ear alone.”
“i can’t go with you,” alice said, trying to pull away from him, but his grip was a vise; “my poor lady is out here in the night—i must find her.”
“a curse upon her!” said denis fiercely, “a curse upon her smilin’, desateful face; may she dhry up an’ wither away loike a did leaf—an’ may—”
alice cried out a little.
“let me go!” she said, “you bloody irishman, let me go. i thought you were a faithful servant to lord clancarty.”
[pg 259]“i’ll not let ye go,” retorted denis savagely, dragging her along, “i’ll not let ye go until i make yer teeth rattle!”
alice screamed aloud in an agony of fright; but of what avail was it? a woman’s scream in the black mouth of a london lane at midnight; it was only a drop upon the surface of a black pool.
“scrame away, ye little threacherous, spiteful cat, ye!” said denis, shaking her fiercely; “ye’d bethray me masther, would ye? begorra, i’d loike ter kill ye intirely! take that, ye hizzy!” and he gave her a sound blow that made the poor girl reel.
alice was no weakling and she put out all her strength and fought him, screaming.
“oh, ye cat, ye!” he said harshly, shaking her again; “take that—an’ that, ye lyin’, desateful hizzy! i’ll teach ye,” and he shook her much as a big dog shakes a kitten.
alice screamed; if she even dimly conceived his error, she had no breath to argue with him; she believed, indeed, that her last hour had come, and shrieked with all her strength. and denis shook her, and would have gone on shaking her indefinitely but for a timely interruption.
