Even if he had known how matters were, he
would probably have acted in precisely the same way. As for Dacres, he
had but one idea. He was sure it was some trick concocted by his wife
and the Italian, though why they should do so he did not stop, in his
mad mood, to inquire. A vague idea that a communication had passed
between them on the preceding evening with reference to this was now
in his mind, and his vengeful feeling was stimulated by this thought
to the utmost pitch of intensity.
Hawbury thus lashed his horses, and they flew along the road. After
the first cry and the shot that they had heard there was no further
noise. The stillness was mysterious. It showed Hawbury that the
struggle, if there had been any, was over. But the first idea still
remained both in his own mind and in that of Dacres. On they went, and
now they came to the turn in the road. Round this they whirled, and in
an instant the scene revealed itself.
Three carriages stopped; some drivers standing and staring
indifferently; a group of women crowding around a prostrate form that
lay in the road; a pale, beautiful girl, to whom a beautiful woman was
clinging passionately; a crowd of armed brigands with leveled pieces;
and immediately before them a horseman--the Italian, Girasole.
One glance showed all this. Hawbury could not distinguish any face
among the crowd of women that bent over Lady Dalrymple, and Ethel's
face was thus still unrevealed; but he saw Minnie and Mrs. Willoughby
and Girasole.
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