THE RISING TIDE
A long dazzling pathway of moonlight stretched over the sea, starting
from the horizon, ending at the great jutting promontory of the Spear
Point. The moon was yet three nights from the full. The tide was rising,
but it would not be high for another two hours.
The breakers ran in, one behind the other, foaming over the hidden
rocks, splashing wildly against the grim wall of granite that stood
sharp-edged to withstand them. It was curved like a scimitar, that rock,
and within its curve there slept, when the tide was low, a pool. When
the tide rose the waters raged and thundered all around the rock, but
when it sank again the still, deep pool remained, unruffled as a
mountain tarn and as full of mystery.
Over a tumble of lesser rocks that bounded the pool to shoreward the
wary might find a path to the Spear Point Caves; but the path was
difficult, and there were few who had ever attempted it. For the
quicksand lay like a golden barrier between the outer beach and the
rocks that led thither.
It was an awesome spot. Many a splinter of wreckage had been tossed in
over the Spear Point as though flung in sport from a giant hand. And
when the water was high there came a hollow groaning from the inner
caves as though imprisoned spirits languished there.
But on that night of magic moonlight the only sound was the murmurous
splash of the rising waves as they met the first grim rocks of the
Point. Presently they would dash in thunder round the granite blade, and
the sleeping pool would be turned to a smother of foam.
On the edge of the pool a woman's figure clad in white stood balanced
with outstretched arms. So still was the water, so splendid the
moonlight, that the whole of her light form was mirrored there--a
perfect image of nymph-like grace. She sang a soft, low, trilling song
like the song of a blackbird awaking to the dawn.
"By Jupiter!" Knight murmured to himself. "If I could get her only
once--only once--as--she--is!"
The gleam of the hunter was in his look. He stood on the rocks some
yards away from her, gazing with eyes half-shut.
Suddenly she turned herself, and across the intervening space her voice
came to him, half-mocking, half-alluring, "Have you found your
inspiration yet?"
"Not yet," he said.
She raised her shoulders with a humorous gesture, "Hasn't the magic
begun to work?"
He came towards her, moving slowly and with caution. "Don't move!" he
said.
She waited for him on the edge of the pool. There was laughter in her
eyes, laughter and the sublime daring of innocence.
He reached her. They stood together on the same flat rock. He bent to
her, in his eyes the burning worship of beauty.
"Columbine!" he said. "Witch! Enchantress! Queen!"
The red blood raced into her face. Her eyes shone into his with a sudden
glory--the glory of the awaking soul. But the woman-instinct in her
checked the first quick impulse of surrender.
She made a little motion away from him. She laughed and veiled her eyes
from the fiery adoration that flamed upon her. "The magic is
working--evidently," she said. "What a good thing I brought you here!"
"Yes; it is a good thing," he said, and in his voice she heard the deep
note of a mastery that would not be denied. "Do you know what you have
done to me, you goddess? You have opened the eyes of my heart. I am
dazzled. I am blinded. I believe I am possessed. When I paint my picture
--it will be such as the world has never seen."
"Hadn't you better begin it?" whispered Columbine.
He held out his hand to her--a hand that was not wholly steady. "Not
yet," he said. "The vision is too near, too wonderful. How shall I paint
the rapture that I have hardly yet dared to contemplate? Columbine!"
His voice suddenly pleaded, and as though in answer she laid her hand in
his. But she did not raise her eyes. She palpitated from head to foot
like a captured bird.
"You are not--afraid?" he whispered.
"I don't know," she whispered back. "Not of you--not of you!"
"Ah!" he said. "We are caught in the same net. There is nothing terrible
in that. The same magic is working in us both. Let it work, dear! We
understand each other. Why should there be anything to fear?"
But still she did not raise her eyes, and still she trembled in his
hold. "I never thought," she faltered, "never dreamed. Oh, is it true?"
"True that you are the most beautiful creature that this earth
contains?" he said, and his voice throbbed upon the words. "True that
the very sight of you turns my blood to fire? Aphrodite, goddess and
sorceress, do you doubt that? Wait till you see my picture, and then
ask! I have found my inspiration tonight--yes, I have found it--but it
is so immense--so overwhelming--that I cannot grasp it yet. Tonight,
dear, just for tonight--let me worship at your feet! This madness must
have its way. In the morning I shall be sane again. Tonight--tonight I
tread Olympus with the Immortals."
He was drawing her towards him, and Columbine--Columbine, who suffered
no man's hand upon her--was yielding slowly, but inevitably, to the
persuasion of his touch. Just at the last, indeed, she made a small,
wholly futile attempt to free herself; but the moment she did so his
hold became the hold of the conqueror, and with a faint laugh she flung
aside the instinct that had prompted it. The next instant, freely and
splendidly, she raised her downcast face and abandoned herself utterly
to him.
To give without stint was the impulse of her passionate, Southern
nature, and she gave freely, royally, that night. The magic that ran in
the veins of both was too compelling to be resisted. The girl, with her
half-awakened soul, the man, with his fiery thirst for beauty, were
caught in the great current that sweeps like a tidal wave around the
world, and it bore them swiftly, swiftly, whither neither he in his
restlessness nor she in her in experience realised or cared. If the
sound of the breakers came to them from afar they heeded it not. They
were too far away to matter as yet, and Knight had steered a safe course
for himself in troubled seas before. As for Columbine, she knew only the
rapture of love triumphant, and tasted perfect safety in the holding of
her lover's arms. He had won her with scarcely a struggle, and she
gloried with an ecstasy that was in its way sublime in the completeness
of her surrender. On such a night as that it seemed to her that the
whole world lay at her feet, and she knew no fear.
The still pool slept in the moonlight, a lake of silver, unspeakably
calm. Beyond the outstretched blade of rock the great waters rose and
rose. The murmur of them had swelled to a roar. The splash of them
mounted higher and ever higher. Suddenly a crest of foam gleamed like a
tongue of lightning at the point of the curve. The pool stirred as if
awakening. The moonlight on its surface was shivered in a thousand
ripples. They broke in a succession of tiny wavelets against the
encircling rocks.
Another silver crest appeared, burst in thunder, and in a moment the
pool was flooded with tossing water.
"Do you see that?" whispered Columbine. "It is like my life."
They stood together under the frowning cliff and watched the wonder of
the pool's awakening. Knight's arm held her close pressed to his side.
He could feel the beating of her heart. She stood with her face upturned
to his and all the glory of love's surrender shining in her eyes.
He caught his breath as he looked at her. He stooped and kissed the red,
red lips that gave so generously. "Is my love as the rising tide to you,
sweet?" he murmured.
"It is more!" she answered passionately. "It is more! It is the tidal
wave that comes so seldom--maybe only once in a lifetime--and carries
all before it."
He pressed her closer. "My passion-flower!" he said. "My queen!"
He kissed the throbbing whiteness of her throat, the loose clusters of
her hair. He laid his hot face against her neck, and held it so, not
breathing. Her arms stretched upwards, clasping him. She was
panting--panting as one in deep waters.
"I love you! I love you!" she whispered tensely. "Oh, how I love you!"
Again there came the thunder of the surf. The waters of the pool leapt
as if a giant hand had churned them. The foam from beyond the reef
overspread them like snow. The whole world became full of the sound of
surging waters.
Knight opened his eyes. "The tide is coming up fast," he said. "We must
be getting back."
She clung closer to him. "I could die with you on a night like this,"
she said.
He crushed her to his heart. "Ah, goddess!" he said. "You couldn't die!
But I am only mortal, and the tide won't wait."
Again the swirling breakers swept around the Point. Reluctantly she came
to earth. The pool had become a seething whirl of water.
"Yes," she said, "we must go, and quickly--quickly! It rises so fast
here."
Sure-footed as a doe over the slippery rocks, she led the way. They left
the magic place and the dazzling tumble of moonlit water, the dark
caves, the enchanted strand. Progress was not easy, but Knight had been
that way before, though only by day. He followed his guide closely, and
when presently they emerged upon level sand, he overtook and walked
beside her.
She slipped her hand into his. "It's the lie of the quicksand that's
puzzling," she said, "if you don't know it well."
"I am in thy hands, O Queen," he made light reply. "Lead me whither thou
wilt!"
She laughed--a low, sweet laugh of sheer happiness. "And if I lead you
astray?"
"I would follow you down to the nethermost millstone," he vowed.
Her hand tightened upon his. She paused a moment, looking out over the
stretch of sand that intervened between them and the little
fishing-quay. He had safely negotiated that stretch of sand by daylight,
though even then it had needed an alert eye to detect that slight
ooziness of surface that denoted the presence of the sea-swamp. But by
night, even in that brilliant moonlight, it was barely perceptible.
Columbine herself did not trust to appearances. She had learnt the way
from Adam as a child learns a lesson by heart. He had taught her to know
the danger-spot by the shape of the cliffs above it.
After a very brief pause to take her bearings, she moved forward with
absolute assurance. Knight accompanied her with unquestioning
confidence. His faith in his own luck was as profound as his faith in
the girl at his side. And the tumult in his veins that night was such as
to make him insensible of danger. The roar of the rising tide
exhilarated him. He walked with the stride of a conqueror, free and
unafraid, his face to the sea.
Unerringly she led him, but she did not speak again until they had made
the passage and the treacherous morass of sand was left behind.
Then, with a deep breath, she stopped. "Now we are safe!"
"Weren't we safe before?" he asked carelessly.
Her eyes sought his; she gave a little shiver. "Oh, are we ever safe?"
she said. "Especially when we are happy? That quicksand makes one
think."
"Never spoil the present by thinking of the future!" said Knight
sententiously.
She took him seriously. "I don't. I want to keep the present just as it
is--just as it is. I would like to stay with you here for ever and ever,
but in another half-hour--in less--the tide will be racing over this
very spot, and we shall be gone." Her voice vibrated; she cast a glance
behind. "One false step," she said, "too sharp a turn, too wide a curve,
and we'd have been in the quicksand! It's like that all over. It's life,
and it's full of danger, whichever way we turn."
He looked at her curiously. "Why, what has come to you?" he said.
She caught her breath in a sound that was like a sob. "I don't know,"
she said. "It's being so madly happy that has frightened me. It can't
last. It never does last."
He smiled upon her philosophically. "Then let us make the most of it
while it does!" he said. "Tonight will pass, but--don't forget--there is
tomorrow."
She answered him feverishly. "The moon may not shine tomorrow."
He laughed, drawing her to him. "I can do without the moon, queen of my
heart."
She went into his arms, but she was trembling. "I feel--somehow--as if
someone were watching us," she whispered.
"Exactly my own idea," he said. "The moon is a bit too intrusive
tonight. I shan't weep if there are a few clouds tomorrow."
She laughed a little dubiously. "We couldn't cross the quicksand if the
light were bad."
"We could get down to the Point by the cliff-path," he pointed out. "I
went that way only this afternoon."
"Ah! But it is very steep, and it passes Rufus's cottage," she murmured.
"What of it?" he said indifferently. "I'm sure he sleeps like a log."
She turned from the subject. "Besides, you must have moonlight for your
picture. And the moon won't last."
"My picture!" He pressed her suddenly closer. "Do you know what my
picture is going to be?"
"Tell me!" she whispered.
"Shall I?" He turned gently her face up to his own. "Shall I? Dare I?"
She opened her eyes wide--those glorious, trusting eyes. "But why
should you be afraid to tell me?"
He laughed again softly, and kissed her lips. "I will make a rough
sketch in the morning and show it you. It won't be a study--only an
idea. You are going to pose for the study."
"I?" she said, half-startled.
"You--yes, you!" His eyes looked deeply into hers. "Haven't you realised
yet that you are my inspiration?" he said. "It is going to be the
picture of my life--'Aphrodite the Beautiful!'"
She quivered afresh at his words. "Am I really--so beautiful?" she
faltered. "Would you think so if--if you didn't love me?"
"Would I have loved you if you weren't?" laughed Knight. "My darling,
you are exquisite as a passion-flower grown in Paradise. To worship you
is as natural to me as breathing. You are heaven on earth to me."
"You love me--because of that?"
"I love you," he answered, "soul and body, because you are you. There is
no other reason, heart of my heart. When my picture of pictures is
painted, then--perhaps--you will see yourself as I see you--and
understand."
She uttered a quick sigh, clinging to him with a hold that was almost
convulsive. "Ah, yes! To see myself with your eyes! I want that. I shall
know then--how much you love me."
"Will you? But will you?" he said, softly derisive. "You will have to
show me yourself and your love--all there is of it--before you can do
that."
She lifted her head from his shoulder. The fire that he had kindled in
her soul was burning in her eyes. "I am all yours--all yours," she told
him passionately. "All that I have to offer is your own."
His face changed a little. The tender mockery passed, and an expression
that was oddly out of place there succeeded it. "Ah, you shouldn't tell
me that, sweetheart," he said, and his voice was low and held a touch of
pain. "I might be tempted to take too much--more than I have any right
to take."
"You have a right to all," she said.
But he shook his head. "No--no! You are too young."
"Too young to love?" she said, with quick scorn.
His arm was close about her. "No," he answered soberly. "Only so young
that you may--possibly--make the mistake of loving too well."
"What do you mean?" Her voice had a startled note; she pressed nearer to
him.
He lifted a hand and pointed to the silver pathway on the sea. "I mean
that love is just moonshine--just moonshine; the dream of a night that
passes."
"Not in a night!" she cried, and there was anguish in the words.
He bent again swiftly and kissed her lips. "No, not in a night,
sweetheart. Not even in two. But at last--at last--_tout passe_!"
"Then it isn't love!" she said with conviction.
He snapped his fingers at the moonlight with a gesture half-humorous,
yet half-defiant. "It is life," he said, "and the irony of life. Don't
be too generous, my queen of the sea! Give me what I ask--of your
graciousness! But--don't offer me more! Perhaps I might take it, and
then--"
He turned with the words, as if the sentence were ended, and Columbine
went with him, bewildered but too deeply fascinated to feel any serious
misgiving. She did not ask for any further explanation, something about
him restrained her. But she knew no doubt, and when he halted in the
shadow of the deserted quay and took her face once more between his
hands with the one word, "Tomorrow!" she lifted eyes of perfect trust to
his and answered simply, "Yes, tomorrow!"
And the rapture of his kisses was all-sufficing. She carried away with
her no other memory but that.