And while he and Hannah bent over the unconscious young man, Philippa seemed to come out of her trance; s lowly, with upraised hands, and head bent upon her breast, she stepped backward, backward, out of the room, out of the house. On the doorstep, in the darkness, she paused and listened for several minutes to certain dreadful sounds in the house. Then, suddenly, a passion of purpose swept the daze of horror away.
"HE SHALL NOT DIE," she said.
She flung her skirt across her arm that her feet might not be hampered, and fled down the road toward Old Chester. It was very dark. At first her eyes, still blurred with the lamplight, could not distinguish the footpath, and she stumbled over the grassy border into the wheel-ruts; then, feeling the loose dust under her feet, she ran and ran and ran. The blood began to sing in her ears; once her throat seemed to close so that she could not breathe, and for a moment she had to walk,-- b ut her hands, holding up her skirts, trembled with terror at the delay.
The road was very dark under the sycamore-trees; twice she tripped and fell into the brambles at one side or against a gravelly bank on the other.
But stumbling somehow to her feet, again she ran and ran and ran. The night was very still; she could hear her breath tearing her throat; once she felt something hot and salty in her mouth; i t was then she had to stop and walk for a little space--she must walk or fall down! And she could not fall down, no! no! no! he would die if she fell down! Once a figure loomed up in the haze, and she caught the glimmer of an inquisitive eye. "Say," a man's voice said, "where are you bound for?" There was something in the tone that gave her a stab of fright; f or a minute or two her feet seemed to fly, and she heard a laugh behind her in the darkness: "What's your hurry?" t he voice called after her. And still she ran. But she was saying to herself that she must STOP; she must stand still just for a moment. "Oh, just for a minute?" her body whimperingly entreated; she would not listen to it! She must not listen, even though her heart burst with the strain. But her body had its way, and she fell into a walk, although she was not aware of it. In a gasping whisper she was saying, over and over: "Doctor, hurry; he'll die; h urry; I killed him." She tried to be silent, but her lips moved mechanically.
"Doctor, hurry; he'll--Oh, I MUSTN'T t alk!" she told herself, "it takes my breath"--but still her lips moved. She began to run, heavily. "I can't talk --if--I--run--" It was then that she saw a glimmer of light and knew that she was almost in Old Chester. Very likely she would have fallen if she had not seen that far-off window just when she did.
At William King's house she dropped against the door, her fingers still clinging to the bell. She was past speaking when the doctor lifted her and carried her into the office. "No; don't try to tell me what it is," he said; "I'll put Jinny into the buggy, and we'll get back in a jiffy. I understand; Hannah is worse."
"Not... Hannah--"
"Your father?" he said, picking up his medicine-case.
"Not father; Mr.--Fenn--"
As the doctor hurried out to the stable to hitch up he bade his wife put certain remedies into his bag,--"and look after that child," he called over his shoulder to his efficient Martha. She was so efficient that when he had brought Jinny and the buggy to the door, Philly was able to gasp out that Mr. Fenn was sick.
"Dying."
"Don't try to talk," he said again, as he helped her into the buggy. But after a while she was able to tell him, hoarsely:
"I wanted him to love me." William King was silent. "I used a charm. It was wicked."
"Come, come; not wicked," said the doctor; "a little foolish, perhaps. A n ew frock, and a rose in your hair, and a smile at another man, would be enough of a charm, my dear."
Philippa shook her head. "It was not enough. I wore my best frock, and I went to Dr. Lavendar's church--"
"Good gracious!" said William King.
"They were not enough. So I used a charm. I made a drink--"
"Ah!" said the doctor, frowning.
"What was in the drink, Miss Philly?"
"Perhaps it was not the right herb," s he said; "it may have been 'mother-wort'; b ut the book said 'monk's-hood,'
a nd I--"
William King reached for his whip and cut Jinny across the flanks. "ACONITE!" h e said under his breath, while Jinny leaped forward in shocked astonishment.
"Will he live?" said Philippa.
Dr. King, flecking Jinny again, and letting his reins hang over the dashboard, could not help putting a comforting arm around her. "I hope so," h e said; "I hope so!" After all, there was no use telling the child that probably by this time her lover was either dead or getting better. "It's his own fault," William King thought, angrily.
"Why in thunder didn't he fall in love like a man, instead of ****** the child resort to--G'on, Jinny! G'on!"
He still had the whip in his hand when they drew up at the gate.
