She soon had to know she was chased. She had seen the dive from the
boat, and received all illumination. With a chuckle of delighted
surprise, like a blackbird startled, she pushed seaward for joy of the
effort, thinking she could exult in imagination of an escape up to the
moment of capture, yielding then only to his greater will; and she meant
to try it.
The swim was a holiday; all was new--nothing came to her as the same
old thing since she took her plunge; she had a sea-mind--had left her
earth-mind ashore. The swim, and Matey Weyburn pursuing her passed up,
out of happiness, through the spheres of delirium, into the region
where our life is as we would have it be a home holding the quiet of the
heavens, if but midway thither, and a home of delicious animation of the
whole frame, equal to wings.
He drew on her, but he was distant, and she waved an arm. The shout of
her glee sprang from her: 'Matey!' He waved; she heard his voice. Was it
her name? He was not so drunken of the sea as she: he had not leapt out
of bondage into buoyant waters, into a youth without a blot, without an
aim, satisfied in tasting; the dream of the long felicity.
A thought brushed by her: How if he were absent? It relaxed her stroke
of arms and legs. He had doubled the salt sea's rapture, and he had
shackled its gift of freedom. She turned to float, gathering her knees
for the funny sullen kick, until she heard him near. At once her stroke
was renewed vigorously; she had the foot of her pursuer, and she called,
'Adieu, Matey Weyburn!'
Her bravado deserved a swifter humiliation than he was able to bring
down on her: she swam bravely, and she was divine to see ahead as well
as overtake.
Darting to the close parallel, he said: 'What sea nymph sang me my
name?'
She smote a pang of her ecstasy into him: 'Ask mine!'
'Browny!'
They swam; neither of them panted; their heads were water-flowers that
spoke at ease.
'We 've run from school; we won't go back.'
'We 've a kingdom.'
'Here's a big wave going to be a wall.'
'Off he rolls.'
'He's like the High Brent broad meadow under Elling Wood.'
'Don't let Miss Vincent hear you.'
'They 're not waves; they 're sighs of the deep.'
'A poet I swim with! He fell into the deep in his first of May morning
ducks. We used to expect him.'
'I never expected to owe them so much.'
Pride of the swimmer and the energy of her joy embraced Aminta, that she
might nerve all her powers to gain the half-minute for speaking at her
ease.
'Who 'd have thought of a morning like this? You were looked for last
night.'
'A lucky accident to our coach. I made friends with the skipper of the
yawl.'
'I saw the boat. Who could have dreamed--? Anything may happen now.'
For nothing further would astonish her, as he rightly understood her;
but he said: 'You 're prepared for the rites? Old Triton is ready.'
'Float, and tell me.'
They spun about to lie on their backs. Her right hand, at piano-work of
the octave-shake, was touched and taken, and she did not pull it away.
Her eyelids fell.
'Old Triton waits.'
'Why?'
'We 're going to him.'
'Yes?'
'Customs of the sea.'
'Tell me.'
'He joins hands. We say, “Browny-Matey,” and it 's done.'
She splashed, crying 'Swim,' and after two strokes, 'You want to beat
me, Matey Weyburn.'
'How?'
'Not fair!'
'Say what.'
'Take my breath. But, yes! we'll be happy in our own way. We 're
sea-birds. We 've said adieu to land. Not to one another. We shall be
friends?'
'Always.'
'This is going to last?'
'Ever so long.'
They had a spell of steady swimming, companionship to inspirit it.
Browny was allowed place a little foremost, and she guessed not
wherefore, in her flattered emulation.
'I 'm bound for France.'
'Slew a point to the right: South-east by South. We shall hit
Dunkerque.'
'I don't mean to be picked up by boats.'
'We'll decline.'
'You see I can swim.'
'I was sure of it.'
They stopped their talk--for the pleasure of the body to be savoured
in the mind, they thought; and so took Nature's counsel to rest their
voices awhile.
Considering that she had not been used of late to long immersions, and
had not broken her fast, and had talked much, for a sea-nymph, Weyburn
spied behind him on a shore seeming flat down, far removed.
'France next time,' he said: 'we'll face to the rear.'
'Now?' said she, big with blissful conceit of her powers and incredulous
of such a command from him.
'You may be feeling tired presently.'
The musical sincerity of her 'Oh no, not I!' sped through his limbs; he
had a willingness to go onward still some way.
But his words fastened the heavy land on her spirit, knocked at the
habit of obedience. Her stroke of the arms paused. She inclined to his
example, and he set it shoreward.
They swam silently, high, low, creatures of the smooth green roller. He
heard the water-song of her swimming. She, though breathing equably at
the nostrils, lay deep. The water shocked at her chin, and curled round
the under lip. He had a faint anxiety; and, not so sensible of a weight
in the sight of land as she was, he chattered, by snatches, rallied her,
encouraged her to continue sportive for this once, letting her feel it
was but a once and had its respected limit with him. So it was not out
of the world.
Ah, friend Matey! And that was right and good on land; but rightness and
goodness flung earth's shadow across her brilliancy here, and any stress
on 'this once' withdrew her liberty to revel in it, putting an end to
perfect holiday; and silence, too, might hint at fatigue. She began to
think her muteness lost her the bloom of the enchantment, robbing her of
her heavenly frolic lead, since friend Matey resolved to be as eminently
good in salt water as on land. Was he unaware that they were boy and
girl again?--she washed pure of the intervening years, new born, by
blessing of the sea; worthy of him here!--that is, a swimmer worthy of
him, his comrade in salt water.
'You're satisfied I swim well?' she said.
'It would go hard with me if we raced a long race.'
'I really was out for France.'
'I was ordered to keep you for England.' She gave him Browny's eyes.
'We've turned our backs on Triton.'
'The ceremony was performed.'
'When?'
'The minute I spoke of it and you splashed.'
'Matey! Matey Weyburn!'
'Browny Farrell!'
'Oh, Matey! she's gone!'
'She's here.'
'Try to beguile me, then, that our holiday's not over. You won't forget
this hour?'
'No time of mine on earth will live so brightly for me.'
'I have never had one like it. I could go under and be happy; go to old
Triton, and wait for you; teach him to speak your proper Christian
name. He hasn't heard it yet,--heard “Matey,”--never yet has been taught
“Matthew.”'
'Aminta!'
'Oh, my friend! my dear!' she cried, in the voice of the wounded, like
a welling of her blood: 'my strength will leave me. I may play--not you:
you play with a weak vessel. Swim, and be quiet. How far do you count
it?'
'Under a quarter of a mile.'
'Don't imagine me tired.'
'If you are, hold on to me.'
'Matey, I'm for a dive.'
He went after the ball of silver and bubbles, and they came up together.
There is no history of events below the surface.
She shook off her briny blindness, and settled to the full sweep of the
arms, quite silent now. Some emotion, or exhaustion from the strain of
the swimmer's breath in speech, stopped her playfulness. The pleasure
she still knew was a recollection of the outward swim, when she had been
privileged to cast away sex with the push from earth, as few men will
believe that women, beautiful women, ever wish to do; and often and
ardently during the run ahead they yearn for Nature to grant them their
one short holiday truce.
But Aminta forgave him for bringing earth so close to her when there
was yet a space of salt water between her and shore; and she smiled at
times, that he might not think she was looking grave.