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 grey, 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 neighbourhood 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 towards 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
lovingkindnesses 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.
I only said one word: “Italians.”
He swore a round oath, and looked at us, from one to the other.
“Mr. Cassilis knows all that I know,” said my wife.
“What I want to know,” he broke out, “is where the devil Mr.
Cassilis comes from, and what the devil Mr. Cassilis is doing here. You say you
are married; that I do not believe. If you were, Graden Floe would soon divorce
you; four minutes and a half, Cassilis. I keep my private cemetery for my
friends.”
“It took somewhat longer,” said I, “for that Italian.”
He looked at me for a moment half daunted, and then, almost civilly, asked me
to tell my story. “You have too much the advantage of me,
Cassilis,” he added. I complied of course; and he listened, with several
ejaculations, while I told him how I had come to Graden: that it was I whom he
had tried to murder on the night of landing; and what I had subsequently seen
and heard of the Italians.
“Well,” said he, when I had done, “it is here at last; there
is no mistake about that. And what, may I ask, do you propose to do?”
“I propose to stay with you and lend a hand,” said I.
“You are a brave man,” he returned, with a peculiar intonation.
“I am not afraid,” said I.
“And so,” he continued, “I am to understand that you two are
married? And you stand up to it before my face, Miss Huddlestone?”
“We are not yet married,” said Clara; “but we shall be as
soon as we can.”
“Bravo!” cried Northmour. “And the bargain? D—n it,
you’re not a fool, young woman; I may call a spade a spade with you. How
about the bargain? You know as well as I do what your father’s life
depends upon. I have only to put my hands under my coat-tails and walk away,
and his throat would he cut before the evening.”
“Yes, Mr. Northmour,” returned Clara, with great spirit; “but
that is what you will never do. You made a bargain that was unworthy of a
gentleman; but you are a gentleman for all that, and you will never desert a
man whom you have begun to help.”
“Aha!” said he. “You think I will give my yacht for nothing?
You think I will risk my life and liberty for love of the old gentleman; and
then, I suppose, be best man at the wedding, to wind up? Well,” he added,
with an odd smile, “perhaps you are not altogether wrong. But ask
Cassilis here. He knows me. Am I a man to trust? Am I safe and
scrupulous? Am I kind?”
“I know you talk a great deal, and sometimes, I think, very
foolishly,” replied Clara, “but I know you are a gentleman, and I
am not the least afraid.”
He looked at her with a peculiar approval and admiration; then, turning to me,
“Do you think I would give her up without a struggle, Frank?” said
he. “I tell you plainly, you look out. The next time we come to
blows—”
“Will make the third,” I interrupted, smiling.
“Aye, true; so it will,” he said. “I had forgotten. Well, the
third time’s lucky.”
“The third time, you mean, you will have the crew of the Red Earl
to help,” I said.
“Do you hear him?” he asked, turning to my wife.
“I hear two men speaking like cowards,” said she. “I should
despise myself either to think or speak like that. And neither of you believe
one word that you are saying, which makes it the more wicked and silly.”
“She’s a trump!” cried Northmour. “But she’s not
yet Mrs. Cassilis. I say no more. The present is not for me.” Then my
wife surprised me.
“I leave you here,” she said suddenly. “My father has been
too long alone. But remember this: you are to be friends, for you are both good
friends to me.”
She has since told me her reason for this step. As long as she remained, she
declares that we two would have continued to quarrel; and I suppose that she
was right, for when she was gone we fell at once into a sort of
confidentiality.
Northmour stared after her as she went away over the sand-hill
“She is the only woman in the world!” he exclaimed with an oath.
“Look at her action.”
I, for my part, leaped at this opportunity for a little further light.
“See here, Northmour,” said I; “we are all in a tight place,
are we not?”
“I believe you, my boy,” he answered, looking me in the eyes, and
with great emphasis. “We have all hell upon us, that’s the truth.
You may believe me or not, but I’m afraid of my life.”
“Tell me one thing,” said I. “What are they after, these
Italians? What do they want with Mr. Huddlestone?”
“Don’t you know?” he cried. “The black old scamp had
carbonaro funds on a deposit—two hundred and eighty thousand; and of
course he gambled it away on stocks. There was to have been a revolution in the
Tridentino, or Parma; but the revolution is off, and the whole wasp’s
nest is after Huddlestone. We shall all be lucky if we can save our
skins.”
“The carbonari!” I exclaimed; “God help him
indeed!”
“Amen!” said Northmour. “And now, look here: I have said that
we are in a fix; and, frankly, I shall be glad of your help. If I can’t
save Huddlestone, I want at least to save the girl. Come and stay in the
pavilion; and, there’s my hand on it, I shall act as your friend until
the old man is either clear or dead. But,” he added, “once that is
settled, you become my rival once again, and I warn you—mind
yourself.”
“Done!” said I; and we shook hands.
“And now let us go directly to the fort,” said Northmour; and he
began to lead the way through the rain.
