At her next visit to the hospital Wilson was refused admission by order of the head surgeon. She left her flowers daily all the same.
After a few days she thought the matter might have cooled, and, having a piece of news to communicate to Seaton with respect to Arthur Wardlaw, she asked to see that patient.
"Left the hospital this morning," was the reply.
"What, cured?"
"Why not? We have cured worse cases than his."
"Where has he gone to? Pray tell me."
"Oh, certainly." And inquiry was made. But the reply was, "Left no address."
Sarah Wilson, like many other women of high and low degree, had swift misgivings of mischief to come. She was taken with a fit of trembling, and had to sit down in the hall.
And, to tell the truth, she had cause to tremble; for that tongue of hers had launched two wild beasts--Jealousy and Revenge.
When she got better she went home, and, coward-like, said not a word to living soul.
That day, Arthur Wardlaw dined with General Rolleston and Helen. They were to be alone for a certain reason; and he came half an hour before dinner. Helen thought he would, and was ready for him on the lawn.
They walked arm-in-arm, talking of the happiness before them, and regretting a temporary separation that was to intervene. He was her father's choice, and she loved her father devotedly; he was her male property; and young ladies like that sort of property, especially when they see nothing to dislike in it. He loved her passionately, and that was her due, and pleased her and drew a gentle affection, if not a passion, from her in return. Yes, that lovely forehead did come very near young Wardlaw's shoulder more than once or twice as they strolled slowly up and down on the soft mossy turf.
And, on the other side of the hedge that bounded the lawn, a man lay crouched in the ditch and saw it all with gleaming eyes.
Just before the affianced ones went in, Helen said, "I have a little favor to ask you, dear. The poor man, Seaton, who fought the robbers and was wounded--papa says he is a man of education, and wanted to be a clerk or something. _Could_ you find him a place?"
"I think I can," said Wardlaw; "indeed, I am sure. A line to White & Co. will do it; they want a shipping clerk."
"Oh, how good you are!" said Helen; and lifted her face all beaming with thanks.
The opportunity was tempting; the lover fond. Two faces met for a single moment, and one of the two burned for five minutes after.
The basilisk eyes saw the soft collision; but the owner of those eyes did not hear the words that earned him that torture. He lay still and bided his time.
General Rolleston's house stood clear of the town at the end of a short but narrow and tortuous lane. This situation had tempted the burglars whom Seaton baffled; and now it tempted Seaton.
Wardlaw must pass that way on leaving General Rolleston's house.
At a bend of the lane two twin elms stood out a foot or two from the hedge. Seaton got behind these at about ten o'clock and watched for him with a patience and immobility that boded ill.
His preparations for this encounter were singular. He had a close-shutting inkstand and a pen, and one sheet of paper, at the top of which he had written "Sydney," and the day of the month and year, leaving the rest blank. And he had the revolver with which he had shot the robber at Helen Rolleston's window; and a barrel of that arm was loaded with swan shot.
