I returned to the den to cook myself a meal, of which I stood in great
need, as well as to care for my horse, whom I had somewhat neglected in
the morning. From time to time I went down to the edge of the wood; but
there was no change in the pavilion, and not a human creature was seen all
day upon the links. The schooner in the offing was the one touch of life
within my range of vision. She, apparently with no set object, stood off
and on or lay to, hour after hour; but as the evening deepened, she drew
steadily nearer. I became more convinced that she carried Northmour and
his friends, and that they would probably come ashore after dark; not only
because that was of a piece with the secrecy of the preparations, but
because the tide would not have flowed sufficiently before eleven to cover
Graden Floe and the other sea quags that fortified the shore against
invaders.
All day the wind had been going down, and the sea along with it; but there
was a return toward sunset of the heavy weather of the day before. The
night set in pitch dark. The wind came off the sea in squalls, like the
firing of a battery of cannon; now and then there was a flaw of rain, and
the surf rolled heavier with the rising tide. I was down at my observatory
among the elders, when a light was run up to the masthead of the schooner,
and showed she was closer in than when I had last seen her by the dying
daylight. I concluded that this must be a signal to Northmour's associates
on shore; and, stepping forth into the links, looked around me for
something in response.
A small footpath ran along the margin of the wood, and formed the most
direct communication between the pavilion and the mansion house; and, as I
cast my eyes to that side, I saw a spark of light, not a quarter of a mile
away, and rapidly approaching. From its uneven course it appeared to be
the light of a lantern carried by a person who followed the windings of
the path, and was often staggered, and taken aback by the more violent
squalls. I concealed myself once more among the elders, and waited eagerly
for the newcomer's advance. It proved to be a woman; and, as she passed
within half a rod of my ambush, I was able to recognize the features. The
deaf and silent old dame, who had nursed Northmour in his childhood, was
his associate in this underhand affair.
I followed her at a little distance, taking advantage of the innumerable
heights and hollows, concealed by the darkness, and favored not only by
the nurse's deafness, but by the uproar of the wind and surf. She entered
the pavilion, and, going at once to the upper story, opened and set a
light in one of the windows that looked toward the sea. Immediately
afterwards the light at the schooner's masthead was run down and
extinguished. Its purpose had been attained, and those on board were sure
that they were expected. The old woman resumed her preparations; although
the other shutters remained closed, I could see a glimmer going to and fro
about the house; and a gush of sparks from one chimney after another soon
told me that the fires were being kindled.
Northmour and his guests, I was now persuaded, would come ashore as soon
as there was water on the floe. It was a wild night for boat service; and
I felt some alarm mingle with my curiosity as I reflected on the danger of
the landing. My old acquaintance, it was true, was the most eccentric of
men; but the present eccentricity was both disquieting and lugubrious to
consider. A variety of feelings thus led me toward the beach, where I lay
flat on my face in a hollow within six feet of the track that led to the
pavilion. Thence, I should have the satisfaction of recognizing the
arrivals, and, if they should prove to be acquaintances, greeting them as
soon as they landed.
Some time before eleven, while the tide was still dangerously low, a
boat's lantern appeared close in shore; and, my attention being thus
awakened, I could perceive another still far to seaward, violently tossed,
and sometimes hidden by the billows. The weather, which was getting
dirtier as the night went on, and the perilous situation of the yacht upon
a lee shore, had probably driven them to attempt a landing at the earliest
possible moment.
A little afterwards, four yachtsmen carrying a very heavy chest, and
guided by a fifth with a lantern, passed close in front of me as I lay,
and were admitted to the pavilion by the nurse. They returned to the
beach, and passed me a third time with another chest, larger but
apparently not so heavy as the first. A third time they made the transit;
and on this occasion one of the yachtsmen carried a leather portmanteau,
and the others a lady's trunk and carriage bag. My curiosity was sharply
excited. If a woman were among the guests of Northmour, it would show a
change in his habits, and an apostasy from his pet theories of life, well
calculated to fill me with surprise. When he and I dwelt there together,
the pavilion had been a temple of misogyny. And now, one of the detested
sex was to be installed under its roof. I remembered one or two
particulars, a few notes of daintiness and almost of coquetry which had
struck me the day before as I surveyed the preparations in the house;
their purpose was now clear, and I thought myself dull not to have
perceived it from the first.
While I was thus reflecting, a second lantern drew near me from the beach.
It was carried by a yachtsman whom I had not yet seen, and who was
conducting two other persons to the pavilion. These two persons were
unquestionably the guests for whom the house was made ready; and,
straining eye and ear, I set myself to watch them as they passed. One was
an unusually tall man, in a traveling hat slouched over his eyes, and a
highland cape closely buttoned and turned up so as to conceal his face.
You could make out no more of him than that he was, as I have said,
unusually tall, and walked feebly with a heavy stoop. By his side, and
either clinging to him or giving him support--I could not make out
which--was a young, tall, and slender figure of a woman. She was extremely
pale; but in the light of the lantern her face was so marred by strong and
changing shadows, that she might equally well have been as ugly as sin or
as beautiful as I afterwards found her to be.
When they were just abreast of me, the girl made some remark which was
drowned by the noise of the wind.
"Hush!" said her companion; and there was something in the tone with which
the word was uttered that thrilled and rather shook my spirits. It seemed
to breathe from a bosom laboring under the deadliest terror; I have never
heard another syllable so expressive; and I still hear it again when I am
feverish at night, and my mind runs upon old times. The man turned toward
the girl as he spoke; I had a glimpse of much red beard and a nose which
seemed to have been broken in youth; and his light eyes seemed shining in
his face with some strong and unpleasant emotion.
But these two passed on and were admitted in their turn to the pavilion.
One by one, or in groups, the seamen returned to the beach. The wind
brought me the sound of a rough voice crying, "Shove off!" Then, after a
pause, another lantern drew near. It was Northmour alone.
My wife and I, a man and a woman, have often agreed to wonder how a person
could be, at the same time, so handsome and so repulsive as Northmour. He
had the appearance of a finished gentleman; his face bore every mark of
intelligence and courage; but you had only to look at him, even in his
most amiable moment, to see that he had the temper of a slaver captain. I
never knew a character that was both explosive and revengeful to the same
degree; he combined the vivacity of the south with the sustained and
deadly hatreds of the north; and both traits were plainly written on his
face, which was a sort of danger signal. In person, he was tall, strong,
and active; his hair and complexion very dark; his features handsomely
designed, but spoiled by a menacing expression.
At that moment he was somewhat paler than by nature; he wore a heavy
frown; and his lips worked, and he looked sharply round him as he walked,
like a man besieged with apprehensions. And yet I thought he had a look of
triumph underlying all, as though he had already done much, and was near
the end of an achievement.
Partly from a scruple of delicacy--which I dare say came too late--partly
from the pleasure of startling an acquaintance, I desired to make my
presence known to him without delay.