The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1891-04-11
The gray figure reached the buttress-
glided into the recess-and disappeared.
CHApTER Y

Five minutes passed-ten minutes.
Then the sound of steps was heard, and
men entered the archway in body. Vane
was not among them; but Immediately
afterward he appeared; together with
another officer-the Surgeon.
By this time the sun had sunk, and but
for the rising moon it would have been
quite dark. As it was, the interior of the
archway was in gloom; but the open square
outside was batled in light-a light un-
certain, shadowy, spectral, yet permitting
any object moving in it to be distinctly
seen The woodwork which had support
ed the windlass Of the well had been
shattered by the shot, and now stood in
ruins; but the chain remained intact, its
end twisted round broken stump, and the
bucket hung in safety inside the opening
Of the well.
No time was lost Vanc spoke word
or two, by way of last directions to the
men; then taking bucket in his hand, so
that if by any chance he escaped the shot,
he might do his share in bringing in the
wafer, he turned toward the square That
his chance was very slight he knew And
as he turned to 90 forth into the range
of the cannon, his face, though resolute,
was grave.
lie had already taken step or two in
advance, when he suddenly stopped short.
What was that? \ soft, gray, ghostly
figure started out of the wall in front of
him, and fitted forth into the open air
Before he had recovered from his amaze
went, ii had already reached the well.
For the space of an instant it stood there,
motionless; then, as il desiring rather TO
attract attention than to shun it, it raised
both arms above its head and waved them
in the moonlight In a moment-iust as
Vane, recovering little, started out of the
arehway-the cannon thundered storm
Of shot whistled in the air, plowed up the
ground and ratified along the ruined wood
work of the well.
Vane was still outside its range, and no
shot struck him. But the phantom figure
what of it? He looked; and thrilled.
What dark thing was that, which now lay
motionless beside the mouth of the wei? ?
He had not seen the figure fall-but it was
down upon the ground.
CHAPTER vi.
When the night was past when the next
day shone; when the dial finger marked
the hour little after noon, the garrison of
Sunda Gunge was shaken suddenly by
strange excitement First, there became
audible noise of wild confusion in the
encampment of the Seprys round the
walls. 1t grew-it gathered volume; it
swelled into a tumult Guns fired; voices
yelled; sound was heard as of the stam-
pede of innumerable feet. Then, drowning
every other sound, arose the loud hurrah-
ing of English voices; and this, taken up
by those inside the garrison, became in
few minutes 4 perfect tempest of wild
cheering, ringing far and near
Suddenly unexpectedly ly-relief had
come The rebels were flying in all diree-
tions; their camp was in the hands of the
English soldiers. The siege of Sunda
Gunge was over.
1t is not our purpose to dwell upon the
scene that followed. From that tumult of
wild Joy, of almost fierce excitement, We
turn away, and follow st. George Vane.
As soon as the fact of the relief was GER
tain, he stepped out of the crowd, and
made his way, alone and .unperceived,
along the deserted passages, to a certain
room, which lay in the rear of the walled
buildings 1t was the very room from
which the night before Il slender, gray
draped figure had stolen softly out
Just as he reached the door, and was
hesitating at the threshold, Mrs. Jessop,
who had been called out by the noise of
the cheering, was seen returning in state
of much excitement. Vane accosted her
eagerly, but in low tones. SIS she better ?
Can | see her yet" he said.
'She is much better; she is dressed and
sitting up. But the noise alarmed her
She does not know the cause of it. Will |
you come in and tell her?'
Vane followed her into the room In
large chair, next the window, looking very
white and weak, with bandage round her
temples, where the shot had grazed and
stunned her, sat Mary Sulland. As Vane
entered she looked round He paused, |
and for some seconds the two regarded each
other
He had not seen her since, the night
before, he had carried her, swooning, to
her room. He had heard, with infinite
relief, that the wound was not serious; and
inquiring hourly at her door throughout
the night he had learned that the swoon
was passing off, and that with some hours
of rest there would be little to be feared.
Yet now, as he stood before her, even the
great event which had just happened was
less present to his mind than anxiety to
satisfy himself, with his own eyes, that she
was safe. The shock which he had felt
at the moment when he had raised her in
his arms, and caught sight of her white
face in the moonlight, was with him still
He had felt at that instant certainty that
she was killed
And indeed she had had a wonderful
escape.
Every sportsman who has tried his gun
at sheet Of blank paper knows that it
will sometimes happen that, while the
paper will be spotted thick with pellets,
there will sometimes be space left free of
shot, large enough, perhaps, to have let
Jilt iOhCNti eluC
1t had so happened here. Amid the storm
of shot only one had grazed her; the rest
had whistled past her without harm. But
where her slender figure had so narrowly
escaped, man, being Of larger bulk, would
inevitably have been struck down Mary
Sulland had, in fact, been slightly wounded
where Vane would have been killed
During the hours of night, while he had
wandered up and down outside her door,
too restless to seek for sleep, he had
thought of all these things. He had
thought of the girl who had risked her life
for his; he had let his memory go back
into the past and call to mind all that he
had owed to Mary Sulland through the
years that he had known her; how all his
noblest aspirations, dreams, ambitions, had