"My dear," said I, "you have told me yourself what reward he has to look
for. All is fair in love, you must remember; and if Northmour foments your
father's terrors, it is not at all because he is afraid of any Italian
man, but simply because he is infatuated with a charming English woman."
She reminded me of his attack upon myself on the night of the
disembarkation, and this I was unable to explain. In short, and from one
thing to another, it was agreed between us that I should set out at once
for the fisher village, Graden Wester, as it was called, look up all the
newspapers I could find, and see for myself if there seemed any basis of
fact for these continued alarms. The next morning, at the same hour and
place, I was to make my report to Clara. She said no more on that occasion
about my departure; nor, indeed, did she make it a secret that she clung
to the thought of my proximity as something helpful and pleasant; and, for
my part, I could not have left her, if she had gone upon her knees to ask
it.
I reached Graden Wester before ten in the forenoon; for in those days I
was an excellent pedestrian, and the distance, as I think I have said, was
little over seven miles; fine walking all the way upon the springy turf.
The village is one of the bleakest on that coast, which is saying much:
there is a church in the hollow; a miserable haven in the rocks, where
many boats have been lost as they returned from fishing; two or three
score of stone houses arranged along the beach and in two streets, one
leading from the harbor, and another striking out from it at right angles;
and, at the corner of these two, a very dark and cheerless tavern, by way
of principal hotel.
I had dressed myself somewhat more suitably to my station in life, and at
once called upon the minister in his little manse beside the graveyard. He
knew me, although it was more than nine years since we had met; and when I
told him that I had been long upon a walking tour, and was behind with the
news, readily lent me an armful of newspapers, dating from a month back to
the day before. With these I sought the tavern, and, ordering some
breakfast, sat down to study the "Huddlestone Failure."
It had been, it appeared, a very flagrant case. Thousands of persons were
reduced to poverty; and one in particular had blown out his brains as soon
as payment was suspended. It was strange to myself that, while I read
these details, I continued rather to sympathize with Mr. Huddlestone than
with his victims; so complete already was the empire of my love for my
wife. A price was naturally set upon the banker's head; and, as the case
was inexcusable and the public indignation thoroughly aroused, the unusual
figure of £750 was offered for his capture. He was reported to have large
sums of money in his possession. One day, he had been heard of in Spain;
the next, there was sure intelligence that he was still lurking between
Manchester and Liverpool, or along the border of Wales; and the day after,
a telegram would announce his arrival in Cuba or Yucatan. But in all this
there was no word of an Italian, nor any sign of mystery.
In the very last paper, however, there was one item not so clear. The
accountants who were charged to verify the failure had, it seemed, come
upon the traces of a very large number of thousands, which figured for
some time in the transactions of the house of Huddlestone; but which came
from nowhere, and disappeared in the same mysterious fashion. It was only
once referred to by name, and then under the initials "X.X."; but it had
plainly been floated for the first time into the business at a period of
great depression some six years ago. The name of a distinguished royal
personage had been mentioned by rumor in connection with this sum. "The
cowardly desperado"--such, I remember, was the editorial expression--was
supposed to have escaped with a large part of this mysterious fund still
in his possession.
I was still brooding over the fact, and trying to torture it into some
connection with Mr. Huddlestone's danger, when a man entered the tavern
and asked for some bread and cheese with a decided foreign accent.
"_Siete Italiano_?" said I.
"_Si, Signor_," was his reply.
I said it was unusually far north to find one of his compatriots; at which
he shrugged his shoulders, and replied that a man would go anywhere to
find work. What work he could hope to find at Graden Wester, I was totally
unable to conceive; and the incident struck so unpleasantly upon my mind,
that I asked the landlord, while he was counting me some change, whether
he had ever before seen an Italian in the village. He said he had once
seen some Norwegians, who had been shipwrecked on the other side of Graden
Ness and rescued by the lifeboat from Cauldhaven.
"No!" said I; "but an Italian, like the man who has just had bread and
cheese."
"What?" cried he, "yon black-avised fellow wi' the teeth? Was he an
I-talian? Weel, yon's the first that ever I saw, an' I dare say he's like
to be the last."
Even as he was speaking, I raised my eyes, and, casting a glance into the
street, beheld three men in earnest conversation together, and not thirty
yards away. One of them was my recent companion in the tavern parlor; the
other two, by their handsome sallow features and soft hats, should
evidently belong to the same race. A crowd of village children stood
around them, gesticulating and talking gibberish in imitation. The trio
looked singularly foreign to the bleak dirty street in which they were
standing and the dark gray heaven that overspread them; and I confess my
incredulity received at that moment a shock from which it never recovered.
I might reason with myself as I pleased, but I could not argue down the
effect of what I had seen, and I began to share in the Italian terror.
It was already drawing toward the close of the day before I had returned
the newspapers to the manse, and got well forward on to the links on my
way home. I shall never forget that walk. It grew very cold and
boisterous; the wind sung in the short grass about my feet; thin rain
showers came running on the gusts; and an immense mountain range of
clouds began to arise out of the bosom of the sea. It would be hard to
imagine a more dismal evening; and whether it was from these external
influences, or because my nerves were already affected by what I had heard
and seen, my thoughts were as gloomy as the weather.
The upper windows of the pavilion commanded a considerable spread of links
in the direction of Graden Wester. To avoid observation, it was necessary
to hug the beach until I had gained cover from the higher sand hills on
the little headland, when I might strike across, through the hollows, for
the margin of the wood. The sun was about setting; the tide was low, and
all the quicksands uncovered; and I was moving along, lost in unpleasant
thought, when I was suddenly thunderstruck to perceive the prints of human
feet. They ran parallel to my own course, but low down upon the beach,
instead of along the border of the turf; and, when I examined them, I saw
at once, by the size and coarseness of the impression, that it was a
stranger to me and to those of the pavilion who had recently passed that
way. Not only so; but from the recklessness of the course which he had
followed, steering near to the most formidable portions of the sand, he
was evidently a stranger to the country and to the ill-repute of Graden
beach.
Step by step I followed the prints; until, a quarter of a mile farther, I
beheld them die away into the southeastern boundary of Graden Floe. There,
whoever he was, the miserable man had perished. One or two gulls, who had,
perhaps, seen him disappear, wheeled over his sepulcher with their usual
melancholy piping. The sun had broken through the clouds by a last effort,
and colored the wide level of quicksands with a dusky purple. I stood for
some time gazing at the spot, chilled and disheartened by my own
reflections, and with a strong and commanding consciousness of death. I
remember wondering how long the tragedy had taken, and whether his screams
had been audible at the pavilion. And then, making a strong resolution, I
was about to tear myself away, when a gust fiercer than usual fell upon
this quarter of the beach, and I saw, now whirling high in air, now
skimming lightly across the surface of the sands, a soft, black, felt hat,
somewhat conical in shape, such as I had remarked already on the heads of
the Italians.
I believe, but I am not sure, that I uttered a cry. The wind was driving
the hat shoreward, and I ran round the border of the floe to be ready
against its arrival. The gust fell, dropping the hat for awhile upon the
quicksand, and then, once more freshening, landed it a few yards from
where I stood. I seized it with the interest you may imagine. It had seen
some service; indeed, it was rustier than either of those I had seen that
day upon the street. The lining was red, stamped with the name of the
maker, which I have forgotten, and that of the place of manufacture,
_Venedig_. This (it is not yet forgotten) was the name given by the
Austrians to the beautiful city of Venice, then, and for long after, a
part of their dominions.
The shock was complete. I saw imaginary Italians upon every side; and for
the first, and, I may say, for the last time in my experience, became
overpowered by what is called a panic terror. I knew nothing, that is, to
be afraid of, and yet I admit that I was heartily afraid; and it was with
sensible reluctance that I returned to my exposed and solitary camp in the
Sea-Wood.
There I eat some cold porridge which had been left over from the night
before, for I was disinclined to make a fire; and, feeling strengthened
and reassured, dismissed all these fanciful terrors from my mind, and lay
down to sleep with composure.
How long I may have slept it is impossible for me to guess; but I was
awakened at last by a sudden, blinding flash of light into my face. It
woke me like a blow. In an instant I was upon my knees. But the light had
gone as suddenly as it came. The darkness was intense. And, as it was
blowing great guns from the sea, and pouring with rain, the noises of the
storm effectually concealed all others.
It was, I dare say, half a minute before I regained my self-possession.
But for two circumstances, I should have thought I had been awakened by
some new and vivid form of nightmare. First, the flap of my tent, which I
had shut carefully when I retired, was now unfastened; and, second, I
could still perceive, with a sharpness that excluded any theory of
hallucination, the smell of hot metal and of burning oil. The conclusion
was obvious. I had been awakened by some one flashing a bull's-eye lantern
in my face. It had been but a flash, and away. He had seen my face, and
then gone. I asked myself the object of so strange a proceeding, and the
answer came pat. The man, whoever he was, had thought to recognize me, and
he had not. There was another question unresolved; and to this, I may say,
I feared to give an answer; if he had recognized me, what would he have
done?
My fears were immediately diverted from myself, for I saw that I had been
visited in a mistake; and I became persuaded that some dreadful danger
threatened the pavilion. It required some nerve to issue forth into the
black and intricate thicket which surrounded and overhung the den; but I
groped my way to the links, drenched with rain, beaten upon and deafened
by the gusts, and fearing at every step to lay my hand upon some lurking
adversary. The darkness was so complete that I might have been surrounded
by an army and yet none the wiser, and the uproar of the gale so loud that
my hearing was as useless as my sight.
For the rest of that night, which seemed interminably long, I patrolled
the vicinity of the pavilion, without seeing a living creature or hearing
any noise but the concert of the wind, the sea, and the rain. A light in
the upper story filtered through a cranny of the shutter, and kept me
company till the approach of dawn.
V
With the first peep of day, I retired from the open to my old lair among
the sand hills, there to await the coming of my wife. The morning was
gray, wild, and melancholy; the wind moderated before sunrise, and then
went about, and blew in puffs from the shore; the sea began to go down,
but the rain still fell without mercy. Over all the wilderness of links
there was not a creature to be seen. Yet I felt sure the neighborhood was
alive with skulking foes. The light that had been so suddenly and
surprisingly flashed upon my face as I lay sleeping, and the hat that had
been blown ashore by the wind from over Graden Floe, were two speaking
signals of the peril that environed Clara and the party in the pavilion.
It was, perhaps, half-past seven, or nearer eight, before I saw the door
open, and that dear figure come toward me in the rain. I was waiting for
her on the beach before she had crossed the sand hills.
"I have had such trouble to come!" she cried. "They did not wish me to go
walking in the rain."
"Clara," I said, "you are not frightened!"
"No," said she, with a simplicity that filled my heart with confidence.
For my wife was the bravest as well as the best of women; in my
experience, I have not found the two go always together, but with her they
did; and she combined the extreme of fortitude with the most endearing and
beautiful virtues.
I told her what had happened; and, though her cheek grew visibly paler,
she retained perfect control over her senses.
"You see now that I am safe," said I, in conclusion. "They do not mean to
harm me; for, had they chosen, I was a dead man last night."
She laid her hand upon my arm.
"And I had no presentiment!" she cried.
Her accent thrilled me with delight. I put my arm about her, and strained
her to my side; and, before either of us was aware, her hands were on my
shoulders and my lips upon her mouth. Yet up to that moment no word of
love had passed between us. To this day I remember the touch of her cheek,
which was wet and cold with the rain; and many a time since, when she has
been washing her face, I have kissed it again for the sake of that morning
on the beach. Now that she is taken from me, and I finish my pilgrimage
alone, I recall our old loving kindnesses and the deep honesty and
affection which united us, and my present loss seems but a trifle in
comparison.
We may have thus stood for some seconds--for time passes quickly with
lovers--before we were startled by a peal of laughter close at hand. It
was not natural mirth, but seemed to be affected in order to conceal an
angrier feeling. We both turned, though I still kept my left arm about
Clara's waist; nor did she seek to withdraw herself; and there, a few
paces off upon the beach, stood Northmour, his head lowered, his hands
behind his back, his nostrils white with passion.
"Ah! Cassilis!" he said, as I disclosed my face.
"That same," said I; for I was not at all put about.
"And so, Miss Huddlestone," he continued slowly, but savagely, "this is
how you keep your faith to your father and to me? This is the value you
set upon your father's life? And you are so infatuated with this young
gentleman that you must brave ruin, and decency, and common human
caution--"
"Miss Huddlestone--" I was beginning to interrupt him, when he, in his
turn, cut in brutally--
"You hold your tongue," said he; "I am speaking to that girl."
"That girl, as you call her, is my wife," said I; and my wife only leaned
a little nearer, so that I knew she had affirmed my words.
"Your what?" he cried. "You lie!"
"Northmour," I said, "we all know you have a bad temper, and I am the last
man to be irritated by words. For all that, I propose that you speak
lower, for I am convinced that we are not alone."
He looked round him, and it was plain my remark had in some degree sobered
his passion. "What do you mean?" he asked.