THE REVELATION OF THE NIGHT
“Thank God, she's only stunned!”
The words, percolating slowly through the thick, blankety mist that
seemed to have closed about her, impressed themselves on Sara's mind
with a vague, confused suggestion of their pertinence. It was as though
some one--she wasn't quite sure who--had suddenly given voice to her own
immediate sensation of relief.
At first she could not imagine for what reason she should feel so
specially grateful and relieved. Gradually, however, the mists began to
clear away and recollection of a kind returned to her.
She remembered dropping something--she couldn't recall precisely what it
was that she had dropped, but she knew she had made a wild clutch at
it and tried to save it as it fell. Then--she was remembering more
distinctly now--something against which she had been leaning--she
couldn't recall what that was, either--gave way suddenly, and for the
fraction of a second she had known she was going to fall and be killed,
or, at the least, horribly hurt and mutilated.
And now, it seemed, she had not been hurt at all! She was in no pain;
only her head felt unaccountably heavy. But for that, she was really
very comfortable. Some one was holding her--it was almost like lying
back in a chair--and against her cheek she could feel the soft warmth of
fur.
“Sara--beloved!”
It was Garth's voice, quite close to her ear. He was holding her in his
arms.
Ah! She knew now! They were on the island together, and he had just
asked her if she cared. Of course she cared! It was sheer happiness
to lie in his arms, with closed eyes, and hear his voice--that deep,
unhappy voice of his--grow suddenly so incredibly soft and tender.
“You're mine, now, sweet! Mine to hold just for this once, dear of my
heart!”
No, that couldn't be right, after all, because it wasn't Garth who loved
her. He had only pretended to care for her by way of amusing himself. It
must be Tim who was talking to her--Tim, whom she was going to marry.
Then, suddenly, the mists cleared quite away, and Sara came back to
full consciousness and to the knowledge of where she was and of what had
happened.
Her first instinct, to open her eyes and speak, was checked by a swift,
unexpected movement on the part of Garth. All at once, he had gathered
her up into his arms, and, holding her face pressed close against his
own, was pouring into her ears a torrent of burning, passionate words
of love--love triumphant, worshipping, agonizing, and last of all,
brokenly, desperately abandoning all right or claim.
“And I've got to live without you . . . die without you . . . My God,
it's hard!”
In the darkness and solitude of the night--as he believed, alone with
the unconscious form of the woman he loved in his arms--Garth bared his
very soul. There was nothing hidden any longer, and Sara knew at last
that even as she herself loved, so was she loved again.