For two days I skulked round the pavilion, profiting by the uneven surface
of the links. I became an adept in the necessary tactics. These low
hillocks and shallow dells, running one into another, became a kind of
cloak of darkness for my inthralling, but perhaps dishonorable, pursuit.
Yet, in spite of this advantage, I could learn but little of Northmour or
his guests.
Fresh provisions were brought under cover of darkness by the old woman
from the mansion house. Northmour, and the young lady, sometimes together,
but more often singly, would walk for an hour or two at a time on the
beach beside the quicksand. I could not but conclude that this promenade
was chosen with an eye to secrecy; for the spot was open only to seaward.
But it suited me not less excellently; the highest and most accidented of
the sand hills immediately adjoined; and from these, lying flat in a
hollow, I could overlook Northmour or the young lady as they walked.
The tall man seemed to have disappeared. Not only did he never cross the
threshold, but he never so much as showed face at a window; or, at least,
not so far as I could see; for I dared not creep forward beyond a certain
distance in the day, since the upper floors commanded the bottoms of the
links; and at night, when I could venture further, the lower windows were
barricaded as if to stand a siege. Sometimes I thought the tall man must
be confined to bed, for I remembered the feebleness of his gait; and
sometimes I thought he must have gone clear away, and that Northmour and
the young lady remained alone together in the pavilion. The idea, even
then, displeased me.
Whether or not this pair were man and wife, I had seen abundant reason to
doubt the friendliness of their relation. Although I could hear nothing of
what they said, and rarely so much as glean a decided expression on the
face of either, there was a distance, almost a stiffness, in their
bearing which showed them to be either unfamiliar or at enmity. The girl
walked faster when she was with Northmour than when she was alone; and I
conceived that any inclination between a man and a woman would rather
delay than accelerate the step. Moreover, she kept a good yard free of
him, and trailed her umbrella, as if it were a barrier, on the side
between them. Northmour kept sidling closer; and, as the girl retired from
his advance, their course lay at a sort of diagonal across the beach, and
would have landed them in the surf had it been long enough continued. But,
when this was imminent, the girl would unostentatiously change sides and
put Northmour between her and the sea. I watched these maneuvers, for my
part, with high enjoyment and approval, and chuckled to myself at every
move.
On the morning of the third day, she walked alone for some time, and I
perceived, to my great concern, that she was more than once in tears. You
will see that my heart was already interested more than I supposed. She
had a firm yet airy motion of the body, and carried her head with
unimaginable grace; every step was a thing to look at, and she seemed in
my eyes to breathe sweetness and distinction.
The day was so agreeable, being calm and sunshiny, with a tranquil sea,
and yet with a healthful piquancy and vigor in the air, that, contrary to
custom, she was tempted forth a second time to walk. On this occasion she
was accompanied by Northmour, and they had been but a short while on the
beach, when I saw him take forcible possession of her hand. She struggled,
and uttered a cry that was almost a scream. I sprung to my feet, unmindful
of my strange position; but, ere I had taken a step, I saw Northmour
bareheaded and bowing very low, as if to apologize; and dropped again at
once into my ambush. A few words were interchanged; and then, with another
bow, he left the beach to return to the pavilion. He passed not far from
me, and I could see him, flushed and lowering, and cutting savagely with
his cane among the grass. It was not without satisfaction that I
recognized my own handiwork in a great cut under his right eye, and a
considerable discoloration round the socket.
For some time the girl remained where he had left her, looking out past
the islet and over the bright sea. Then with a start, as one who throws
off preoccupation and puts energy again upon its mettle, she broke into a
rapid and decisive walk. She also was much incensed by what had passed.
She had forgotten where she was. And I beheld her walk straight into the
borders of the quicksand where it is most abrupt and dangerous. Two or
three steps farther and her life would have been in serious jeopardy, when
I slid down the face of the sand hill, which is there precipitous, and,
running halfway forward, called to her to stop.
She did so, and turned round. There was not a tremor of fear in her
behavior, and she marched directly up to me like a queen. I was barefoot,
and clad like a common sailor, save for an Egyptian scarf round my waist;
and she probably took me at first for some one from the fisher village,
straying after bait. As for her, when I thus saw her face to face, her
eyes set steadily and imperiously upon mine, I was filled with admiration
and astonishment, and thought her even more beautiful than I had looked to
find her. Nor could I think enough of one who, acting with so much
boldness, yet preserved a maidenly air that was both quaint and engaging;
for my wife kept an old-fashioned precision of manner through all her
admirable life--an excellent thing in woman, since it sets another value
on her sweet familiarities.
"What does this mean?" she asked.
"You were walking," I told her, "directly into Graden Floe."
"You do not belong to these parts," she said again. "You speak like an
educated man."
"I believe I have a right to that name," said I, "although in this
disguise."
But her woman's eye had already detected the sash.
"Oh!" she said; "your sash betrays you."
"You have said the word _betray_," I resumed. "May I ask you not to betray
me? I was obliged to disclose myself in your interest; but if Northmour
learned my presence it might be worse than disagreeable for me."
"Do you know," she asked, "to whom you are speaking?"
"Not to Mr. Northmour's wife?" I asked, by way of answer.
She shook her head. All this while she was studying my face with an
embarrassing intentness. Then she broke out--
"You have an honest face. Be honest like your face, sir, and tell me what
you want and what you are afraid of. Do you think I could hurt you? I
believe you have far more power to injure me! And yet you do not look
unkind. What do you mean--you, a gentleman--by skulking like a spy about
this desolate place? Tell me," she said, "who is it you hate?"
"I hate no one," I answered; "and I fear no one face to face. My name is
Cassilis--Frank Cassilis. I lead the life of a vagabond for my own good
pleasure. I am one of Northmour's oldest friends; and three nights ago,
when I addressed him on these links, he stabbed me in the shoulder with a
knife."
"It was you!" she said.
"Why he did so," I continued, disregarding the interruption, "is more than
I can guess, and more than I care to know. I have not many friends, nor am
I very susceptible to friendship; but no man shall drive me from a place
by terror. I had camped in the Graden Sea-Wood ere he came; I camp in it
still. If you think I mean harm to you or yours, madame, the remedy is in
your hand. Tell him that my camp is in the Hemlock Den, and to-night he
can stab me in safety while I sleep."
With this I doffed my cap to her, and scrambled up once more among the
sand hills. I do not know why, but I felt a prodigious sense of injustice,
and felt like a hero and a martyr; while as a matter of fact, I had not a
word to say in my defense, nor so much as one plausible reason to offer
for my conduct. I had stayed at Graden out of a curiosity natural enough,
but undignified; and though there was another motive growing in along with
the first, it was not one which, at that period, I could have properly
explained to the lady of my heart.
Certainly, that night, I thought of no one else; and, though her whole
conduct and position seemed suspicious, I could not find it in my heart to
entertain a doubt of her integrity. I could have staked my life that she
was clear of blame, and, though all was dark at the present, that the
explanation of the mystery would show her part in these events to be both
right and needful. It was true, let me cudgel my imagination as I pleased,
that I could invent no theory of her relations to Northmour; but I felt
none the less sure of my conclusion because it was founded on instinct in
place of reason, and, as I may say, went to sleep that night with the
thought of her under my pillow.
Next day she came out about the same hour alone, and, as soon as the sand
hills concealed her from the pavilion, drew nearer to the edge, and called
me by name in guarded tones. I was astonished to observe that she was
deadly pale, and seemingly under the influence of strong emotion.
"Mr. Cassilis!" she cried; "Mr. Cassilis!"
I appeared at once, and leaped down upon the beach. A remarkable air of
relief overspread her countenance as soon as she saw me.
"Oh!" she cried, with a hoarse sound, like one whose bosom had been
lightened of a weight. And then, "Thank God you are still safe!" she
added; "I knew, if you were, you would be here." (Was not this strange? So
swiftly and wisely does Nature prepare our hearts for these great lifelong
intimacies, that both my wife and I had been given a presentiment on this
the second day of our acquaintance. I had even then hoped that she would
seek me; she had felt sure that she would find me.) "Do not," she went on
swiftly, "do not stay in this place. Promise me that you sleep no longer
in that wood. You do not know how I suffer; all last night I could not
sleep for thinking of your peril."
"Peril!" I repeated. "Peril from whom? From Northmour?"
"Not so," she said. "Did you think I would tell him after what you said?"
"Not from Northmour?" I repeated. "Then how? From whom? I see none to be
afraid of."
"You must not ask me," was her reply, "for I am not free to tell you. Only
believe me, and go hence--believe me, and go away quickly, quickly, for
your life!"
An appeal to his alarm is never a good plan to rid oneself of a spirited
young man. My obstinacy was but increased by what she said, and I made it
a point of honor to remain. And her solicitude for my safety still more
confirmed me in the resolve.
"You must not think me inquisitive, madame," I replied, "but, if Graden
is so dangerous a place, you yourself perhaps remain here at some risk."
She only looked at me reproachfully.
"You and your father--" I resumed; but she interrupted me almost with a
gasp.
"My father! How do you know that?" she cried.
"I saw you together when you landed," was my answer; and I do not know
why, but it seemed satisfactory to both of us, as indeed it was truth.
"But," I continued, "you need have no fear from me. I see you have some
reason to be secret, and, you may believe me, your secret is as safe with
me as if I were in Graden Floe. I have scarce spoken to anyone for years;
my horse is my only companion, and even he, poor beast, is not beside me.
You see, then, you may count on me for silence. So tell me the truth, my
dear young lady, are you not in danger?"
"Mr. Northmour says you are an honorable man," she returned, "and I
believe it when I see you. I will tell you so much; you are right: we are
in dreadful, dreadful danger, and you share it by remaining where you
are."
"Ah!" said I; "you have heard of me from Northmour? And he gives me a good
character?"
"I asked him about you last night," was her reply. "I pretended," she
hesitated, "I pretended to have met you long ago, and spoken to you of
him. It was not true; but I could not help myself without betraying you,
and you had put me in a difficulty. He praised you highly."
"And--you may permit me one question--does this danger come from
Northmour?" I asked.
"From Mr. Northmour?" she cried. "Oh, no, he stays with us to share it."
"While you propose that I should run away?" I said. "You do not rate me
very high."
"Why should you stay?" she asked. "You are no friend of ours."
I know not what came over me, for I had not been conscious of a similar
weakness since I was a child, but I was so mortified by this retort that
my eyes pricked and filled with tears, as I continued to gaze upon her
face.
"No, no," she said, in a changed voice; "I did not mean the words
unkindly."
"It was I who offended," I said; and I held out my hand with a look of
appeal that somehow touched her, for she gave me hers at once, and even
eagerly. I held it for awhile in mine, and gazed into her eyes. It was she
who first tore her hand away, and, forgetting all about her request and
the promise she had sought to extort, ran at the top of her speed, and
without turning, till she was out of sight. And then I knew that I loved
her, and thought in my glad heart that she--she herself--was not
indifferent to my suit. Many a time she has denied it in after days, but
it was with a smiling and not a serious denial. For my part, I am sure our
hands would not have lain so closely in each other if she had not begun to
melt to me already. And, when all is said, it is no great contention,
since, by her own avowal, she began to love me on the morrow.
And yet on the morrow very little took place. She came and called me down
as on the day before, upbraided me for lingering at Graden, and, when she
found I was still obdurate, began to ask me more particularly as to my
arrival. I told her by what series of accidents I had come to witness
their disembarkation, and how I had determined to remain, partly from the
interest which had been awakened in me by Northmour's guests, and partly
because of his own murderous attack. As to the former, I fear I was
disingenuous, and led her to regard herself as having been an attraction
to me from the first moment that I saw her on the links. It relieves my
heart to make this confession even now, when my wife is with God, and
already knows all things, and the honesty of my purpose even in this; for
while she lived, although it often pricked my conscience, I had never the
hardihood to undeceive her. Even a little secret, in such a married life
as ours, is like the rose leaf which kept the princess from her sleep.
From this the talk branched into other subjects, and I told her much about
my lonely and wandering existence; she, for her part, giving ear, and
saying little. Although we spoke very naturally, and latterly on topics
that might seem indifferent, we were both sweetly agitated. Too soon it
was time for her to go; and we separated, as if by mutual consent, without
shaking hands, for both knew that, between us, it was no idle ceremony.
The next, and that was the fourth day of our acquaintance, we met in the
same spot, but early in the morning, with much familiarity and yet much
timidity on either side. While she had once more spoken about my
danger--and that, I understood, was her excuse for coming--I, who had
prepared a great deal of talk during the night, began to tell her how
highly I valued her kind interest, and how no one had ever cared to hear
about my life, nor had I ever cared to relate it, before yesterday.
Suddenly she interrupted me, saying with vehemence--
"And yet, if you knew who I was, you would not so much as speak to me!"
I told her such a thought was madness, and, little as we had met, I
counted her already a dear friend; but my protestations seemed only to
make her more desperate.
"My father is in hiding!" she cried.
"My dear," I said, forgetting for the first time to add "young lady,"
"what do I care? If I were in hiding twenty times over, would it make one
thought of change in you?"
"Ah, but the cause!" she cried, "the cause! It is"--she faltered for a
second--"it is disgraceful to us!"