THERE IS DEATH BEFORE US
I did not give myself time to think. I had made up my mind with a sort
of desperate determination that this day should be my very own, my own
to spend in paradise, without scruples or after thought. In a few
minutes my black dress was changed for a navy blue one and a straw hat,
and I was hurrying down to the beach. Our boat, a dainty little skiff,
only large enough for two, was ready when I got there, and Lord Lumley
was standing up unfurling the sail.
I settled myself down comfortably in the cushioned seat, and we were off
almost at once, gliding over the smooth surface of the water with a
scarcely perceptible motion. We were about a quarter of a mile from the
shore when we met Lord Lumley's yacht, rounding the point on her way
back from Yarmouth. Lord Lumley stood up in the bows and hailed her.
"All well, Dyson?" he cried, as she swept past.
"All well, my Lord!" was the prompt reply.
"Is the breeze stiffening, do you think? It's calm enough here, but I
see the white horses are showing their heads outside the bay."
"Ay! ay! my Lord, it's blowing hard round the headland. You'll have to
keep her well away. Shall we take you up?"
Lord Lumley shook his head.
"You would not prefer the yacht?" he asked, turning to me.
"I like this best," I answered. "It is more exciting."
"We'll stick to the skiff, Dyson," Lord Lumley called out.
The man looked doubtful; but while he hesitated, we shot far ahead, so
that his voice only reached us faintly.
"There's a heavy sea running, my Lord, and it'll blow great guns before
night."
"Are you nervous, Margharita?" he asked tenderly.
"Not in the least," I answered, carelessly wiping the spray from my
face. "I like it, and hope it will be rougher."
"Can't say that I do," he laughed. "What a plucky girl you are. Now that
we're in a quieter sea, I think that I may venture to come and talk to
you."
So he came and sat by my side. It is not my purpose to set down all that
passed between us that day. There are pages in our lives which we never
willingly open; which have for us a peculiar sacredness, and a sweetness
which never altogether fades away. There came a sort of abandon upon me,
the forerunner of a fit of nervous desperation which well-nigh sent us
both, hand in hand, into another world--closed the gates of my memory
upon the past, and withdrew my shuddering thoughts from the future, to
steep them in the delight of the present. My lover sat by my side, and
his words were filling my heart with music. The strong sea breeze blew
in our faces, and the salt spray leaped like glittering silver into the
sunlight. Over our heads the sea-gulls screamed, and the coast line grew
faint in the distance. So we sailed on, hand in hand, heart whispering
to heart in the golden silence, till the sun lay low in the west, and
our tiny craft pitched and tossed in the trough of the ocean waves.
Then my lover suddenly became conscious of time and place, and he sprang
up bewildered.
"A miracle!" he cried. "The sun is low, and it cannot yet be afternoon."
"Flatterer," I laughed, showing him my watch. "It is past five o'clock."
He looked round as he gathered in the sail, and a shade of anxiety crept
into his face. Especially he looked with bewildered eyes at the faint
blue line where land lay.
"What an idiot I have been," he said, knitting his brows. "Port,
Margharita! The left string! That's right! Now, sit firm, and when we go
down, lean to the other side. You mustn't mind if you get a little wet.
We are running in the teeth of the wind, and it will be roughish."
It was deliciously exhilarating. The breeze, without our noticing it,
had been gradually freshening, and now it was almost a gale. The sky
above was mackerel-hued and wind-swept. The sea seemed to be getting
rougher every minute. Lord Lumley had to pass his arm round the frail
mast which creaked and bent with the straining of the sail. Once we
heeled right over, and were within an ace of being capsized. I only
laughed, and the color came into my cheeks. Death would be a sweet and
welcome thing, I thought--death here on the ocean, with my lover's arms
around me. So I had no fear, and Lord Lumley found time to glance at me
admiringly.
"You're the pluckiest woman I ever knew in all my life!" he exclaimed
lightly. "Gad! that was a shave! It's no use, dear, we must tack. This
is too good to last."
Round we swept, first one way then another, but we made no headway. In
an hour's time we were no nearer land, and in the gathering twilight the
coast line was dim and blurred. Here and there we could see a few lights
burning from the villages along the shore, and away northward the
revolving light from Gorton headland shone out like a beacon.
"What will become of us?" I asked softly, for Lord Lumley had ceased his
exertions for a moment with a little gesture of despair. His face was
very pale, but it might have been from fatigue.
"Nothing very serious. Fortunately the sail is a new one, and very
strong. I think it will hold, and while it does, I can keep her in
position. We shall be tacking about most of the night, though, I am
afraid. It is such a provoking shifty wind. I can't depend upon it for a
moment."
"And supposing the sail went?"
"We have the oars. It would be uncommonly hard work, rowing, but it
would keep us afloat. It was just a chance that I put them in--a lucky
one as it happens."
"Supposing you had forgotten them, and that we had no oars?"
Lord Lumley shook his head.
"Don't add to the horrors," he said, smiling. "I'd rather not suppose
anything of the kind. It's bad enough as it is."
"There would be danger, then?"
"Yes."
"In what way?"
He shrugged his shoulders.
"Do you really want to know?"
"Yes, please."
"Well, we should drift out to sea, and the first heavy wave that caught
us broadside would probably swamp us. The great thing is, you see, to
keep our head to the waves. Are you cold, love?"
I shook my head. I had no thought of it
"Frightened?"
"Not a bit of it. Do I look it?"
"That you don't," he answered, smiling. "You are brave, dearest. I shall
never forgive myself for being so careless, though."
I think that it was then that the madness first came to me. I held my
hands up to my head, and strove to fight against that frantic impulse.
The air seemed full of voices whispering to me to end by one swift
stroke this hideous dilemma into which I had drifted of my own foolish
will. It was so simple; so easy a manner of escape. And she, too, would
be punished. In a manner, my oath would have been accomplished. What
vengeance could be sweeter to the heart of that desolate old man than
the death of her son--her only son? It could be done so easily, so
secretly. And as for me, should I not die in his arms with his dear face
pressed close to mine, his kisses upon my cold lips, and his voice the
last to fall upon my ears? What was life to me, a pledged murderess?
Would not such a death be a thousand times better? The wind rushing
across the waters seemed to bring mocking whispers to my ears. I seemed
to read it in the silent stars, and in the voices of the night. Death,
painless and sudden. Death, in my lover's arms. My heart yearned for it.
In the darkness I stretched down my hand, and felt for the oars. My
lover's back was turned to me, for he was on his knees in the bows,
gazing ahead with strained eyesight. One oar I raised and balanced on
the side of the boat. A quick push, and it was gone. The dull splash in
the water was lost in the rushing of the wind and the creaking of the
ropes. I watched it drift away from us with anxious eyes. It was gone,
irrevocably gone.
There was only the sail now. I had not meant to touch that; to leave so
much to chance, but the desire for death had grown. I was no longer
mistress of myself. A small pocket-knife was lying in the bottom of the
boat, and I stooped down cautiously and picked it up. Just as my fingers
closed upon it, Lord Lumley looked round. My eyes fell before his, and I
trembled, thankful for the darkness.
"Frightened yet, dearest?" he asked tenderly.
I laughed. There was no fear in my heart. If only he had known.
"No! I am not afraid! I am happy!"
He looked at me, wondering. Well he might!
"How your eyes are gleaming, love! After all, I don't think that we need
a lantern!"
"A lantern! What use would it have been to us?"
"To warn anything off from running us down. If the sail holds till
morning, and I think it will, we shall be all right if we escape
collisions."
"Is that what you are fearing?" I asked.
"Yes. I fancy that we must be getting in the track of the coal steamers.
If only the moon would rise! This darkness is our greatest danger! Even
if they had a smart lookout man, I am afraid that they would never see
us."
He turned round again, and remained gazing with fixed eyes into the
darkness. Then I held my breath, and stooping forward, with the penknife
in my hand, commenced steadily sawing at the bottom knot which bound the
sail to the mast. Directly it parted I cut a great slit in the sail
itself.
The knife was sharp, and my task was over in less than a minute. I
dropped it into the sea, and leaned back breathless. The wind was
coming.
"Lumley!" I faltered, "will you come to me? I am afraid!"
He turned round with a quick loving word. At that moment the catastrophe
happened. A sudden gust of wind filled out the sail. There was a crash
as it parted from the mast, a confused mass of canvass and limp rope.
The whole of the strain for a moment was upon the topmost portion of the
mast, and the result was inevitable. It snapped short, and the whole
tangled heap fell down, half in the bottom of the boat, half in the sea.
We heeled right over, and it seemed as if we must be capsized. But my
lover had presence of mind, and a strong desire to live. He leaned
heavily on the other side of the boat, and whipping a large sailor's
knife from his pocket, cut away the whole of the wreckage from the stump
of the mast with a few lightning-like strokes. It fell away overboard at
once, and though we shipped a lot of water, the boat righted itself
again. While it was yet trembling with the shock he leaned across to me,
pale, but with no fear in his set face or his clear, resolute tone.
"Courage, Margharita! The oars! Quick, dear!"
Then for the first time my heart smote me for what I had done; for the
passionate desire of life was alight in his eyes. What right had I to
make him share my fate? My deep joy was suddenly numbed. I was a
murderess!
I handed him the remaining one, and pretended to feel about in the
bottom of the boat. In that moment I recovered myself.
"There is only one here," I announced calmly.
"Impossible!" he cried. "I saw the pair laid out myself."
He dropped on his knee and felt anxiously around. Then he struck a
match; with the same result. The oar was gone.
He knew then that my words were true, and he came over to my side with a
great despair in his dark eyes.
"Margharita!" he cried, taking me into his arms, "there is death before
us, and it is I who have brought it upon you. Oh, my love, my love!"
His kisses fell upon my lips, and my head fell upon his shoulder. Then I
drew a sigh of deep content, and I felt that I had done well.
"I do not mind," I whispered softly. "Let us stay like this. I am
happy."
"My darling!"