Rafael Sabatini - The Ordeal

He took his wife into his own arms, bathed her brow tenderly, and bade the woman hold salts to her ladyship's nostrils.

Presently she revived. She opened her eyes, vacant at first, then quickening, with horror, and, lastly, stared in amazement at her husband, who was bending over her.

"George!" she cried. And again. "George!" Her fingers clutched his arm. "Oh, thank God!―thank God!" she burst out, in a shuddering sob. "I thought you had been killed."

Thus had he wrested from her the truth which her perversity denied him. He was content; he was jubilant at the result of the ordeal to which he had submitted her. With a nod he dismissed her woman. Then he drew her to his heart, and kissed the face of her he loved above all worldly things.

"Oh, I did so fear for you!" she moaned. "I did so fear for you!" And when word was brought to me that Mr. Gadsby was here, I―I―"

"I know―I know, sweetheart. But all is well," he reassured her; "all is so very well."

Brokenly she begged his pardon for her wrong-headedness. But this he cut short.

"Mr. Gadsby is below, waiting to take his leave of you. Will you receive him?"

"How can I?" quoth she. "Beg him to hold me excused."

Begging her expect his immediate return, Sir George went to dismiss his guest.

"Mr. Gadsby," said he, "I present to you her ladyship's compliments and her regrets that as she is but newly risen she cannot in person receive your adieux. She desires me, further, to wish you a happy journey into Gloucester. I'll not detain you, sir, since you will be eager to set out."

Gadsby drew a breath of relief. Then he looked into the other's face, and marvelled at the change in it. Its impassivity had departed; there was a flush upon the cheek, and a sparkle in the eye. He wondered what it might portend, and he was plagued too, by a doubt, which increased when Sir George stood, at parting, by the door of the chaise.

Then, as if answer the artist's unspoken thoughts, the baronet drew a pistol from his pocket.

"This is the shot I owe you, Mr. Gadsby," said he easly. "Lest you think I boasted to you this morning, please observe."

He raised the weapon, and fired at a swallow darting overhead. But as he pulled the trigger Mr. Gadsby seized his arm, and deflected his aim, so that the bird escaped the doom that had impended.

Sir George stared at him, frowning. The artist explained:

"I would not have you, sir, destroy the life of an innocent creature to make good a boast."

Sir George's frown deepened; then it vanished, and he smiled quizzically.

"I would observe, sir, that by all the laws of honour you were wrong to touch my arm at such a moment. I might claim the right to another shot. But I shall not. Besides, I, too, was irregular, since I stood within the prescribed distance of twenty paces."

Then he laughed good-humoredly, for his relief had brought him a great happiness, and he loved all the world that morning, including Mr. Gasby.

"At least," he concluded, "I have served my purpose―to ascertain whether you have a heart, sir. And I am glad to discover that it seems you have."