The Star-Gazers Part 83

"I--I do not understand you," she faltered, as she looked at him wildly.

"No; it has been my secret until now. Glynne, dear, in my mad despair, I had gone to watch your window from the fir wood, as I had watched it scores of times before, and I said. 'It is for the last time.

To-morrow she belongs to him, and I will not degrade the idol of my love by thoughts that are not true.' I reached the place sacred to me for my sorrow, but that night I could not rest there. It was as if something impelled me, against which I fought for hours before it mastered me, and as if by a strange magnetism--an evil planet attracted to a good--I was drawn nearer and nearer to the spot which contained all I held dear in life."

A faint e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n, half wonder, half horror, escaped Glynne's lips, and, with one quick movement she was close to his side, bending over him and gazing with wildly dilated eyes at the dimly-seen face upon the pillow, the faint smile upon his lips, as he referred to her in his astronomical simile, seeming almost repellent at such a time.

"I felt guilty, dear," he went on, and she s.h.i.+vered while he turned his face a little toward the faint light of the window, and was silent for a few moments, while a fit of trembling came upon Glynne, and she had to catch at the bed and support herself.

"I was not master of myself, dear. I loved you, and in my madness, weak from my bitter struggle with the power which led me on, I stole like some guilty wretch across the park till I reached the garden, and there I once more paused to renew the fight--to master the desire to be near you for the last time and then go back."

"Oh, Moray, Moray," she cried, with a piteous moan, and she sank upon her knees, uttering low, hysterical sobs.

"My poor lost love!" he whispered faintly; and his hand was laid feebly upon her bent head, which sank lower at his touch. "It was in vain. I can hardly recall it dear, for I tell you I must have been mad, but I crept closer and closer till I was beneath your window, and could touch the long, rope-like stems that reached from where I stood praying for your happiness, and a wild and guilty joy thrilled me, for I touched the tendrils which clung around the chamber which held you, my love--my love!"

"Moray!" she cried wildly; and in ecstasy of horror, wonder, and confused thought mingled, she clasped her arms about his neck, and buried her burning face in his breast.

"Ah!" he sighed; and his trembling hands rose to press her head closer and closer to his fluttering heart.

A few moments only, and then she started from him.

"No, no," she cried wildly, as she cast back the thought which, for a moment, she had gladly harboured. "Impossible! It could not be."

"I speak the truth," he said gently. "I must tell you now--while there is time."

She clasped her hands, and her fingers seemed to grow into her flesh with the agonised pressure as she crouched there, trembling, by his bed, her lips apart, her throat dry, and her breath coming and going with a harsh laboured sound, while his came feebly, and his words were harder to hear in the darkness which now shrouded them.

"Yes," he sighed; "I must tell you before it is too late."

He was silent for a moment or two, and then went on, with every word sending a pang of agony and shame through his listener's ears.

"Glynne, dearest, since that night I have often prayed that I might die, but death is long in coming to those who ask its help. I had raised my hand to steal one leaf from the creeper, when it fell to my side. Yes,"

he said, with a hurried intensity now taking the place of his feeble whisper, "I remember--I see all clearly now. I had raised my hand, but it fell to my side, and a pang of horror shot through me, for there was the noise of struggling overhead, faint, half-stifled cries, and then the baying of a dog. For a moment I was dazed, then I turned to run to the door and raise an alarm, when a cry rang out again, and, for the first time, I knew that it came from your window above my head."

He stopped, panting heavily, and Glynne, trembling violently now, drew nearer and nearer to him, with the darkness closing in, and Alleyne's face dimly seen on the grey pillow.

"Listen," he went on; "it was dark--so dark that I could hardly see that your window was thrown wide; but it was as if a horrible scene were being flashed into my brain, as I ran back over the short gra.s.s to stand beneath and begin to climb up by the thick rope-like stems that ran above. Then, as I grasped them, they were shaken violently; a man who had climbed out slipped rapidly down, and I seized him. But he was lithe and active, as I was slow, heavy, and unused to such an effort.

He shook himself free, but I grasped him again, and once more he escaped me. But again I tried to seize him, and this time he struck at me, and I felt a sharp blade pa.s.s through my hand.

"It gave him a few moments' start, but not more; and as he ran, a madman was at his heels. Yes, a madman, for the pa.s.sion within me was not that of one in the full possession of his senses."

Alleyne paused for a few moments, and, as Glynne's hands once more, tremblingly and with a pleading gesture, stole to his breast, his, cold and dank in their touch, slowly pressed them to his heart, and held them there.

"Guilty," he murmured, "but for your sake, dearest, and there must be forgiveness. For my love was strong, and the maddening feeling within me burned, as in my rage I tore on after the dark shadow that was hurrying away."

He was silent again for a few minutes, and once more Glynne's head went down till her forehead rested upon the cold, dank hands which prisoned hers against the labouring heart beneath.

He spoke again, hurriedly and excitedly now, but the coherency of his narrative was at an end.

"Some day," he babbled hurriedly, "she shall know--my sweet, pure angel--what--who says that?--a lie--pure--pure as heaven above. No-- never take her hand in mine--a murderer's hand.--Hah! dog--at last.

Mother--Lucy--it has eaten my heart away--what do you say--her disgrace?

I tell you she is pure as those above--but there is his blood upon my hands. I cannot--dare not go to her now. What--they have found him?

Yes, I know you--Caleb Kent--no use to struggle--there--wretch--venomous hound--down into the black slime. Dead? Who said that? I did not know till I loosened my grasp. There, amongst the cotton rushes--my hands all wet and numbed--blood? No, the cold, black bog water. I killed him--I did not know till he was dead, mother. There, dear, I have told you. Nearly two years now. Let them find him. For her sake I could not speak. Can you say, dear, that it was guilt? There--some day she must know--some day, when we are old and grey, and life's pa.s.sions have burned to their sad, grey ashes, and once more I can tell her how I loved."

He was silent again, and Glynne tried to raise her head, but he held it fast pressed down to his labouring breast. Then, feebly and hurriedly, he went on,--"These figures--all wrong--I cannot--so vast--so grand.

Who's this?"

"I, Moray, my own, own love," she whispered, as she clung to him wildly now. "Ah!"

One long, deep sigh of content. "Some day--I must tell you--but look-- there--so far--so vast--so grand--the dazzling stars--the tiny glittering point--then the faint golden dust--and beyond--the infinite.

Who spoke? Glynne? Forgive me, dear--I loved you--so--"

"Help! help!"

Wild, agonised shrieks, and there were hurried footsteps. Mother, sister, and a light, which gleamed upon dilated eyes, gazing straight up into the infinite he had so long tried to pierce.

Volume 3, Chapter XVII.

THE LAST LOOK AROUND.

About two years after his marriage, Philip Oldroyd was some five miles from home on the capital cob, a present from Sir John, one of his own breeding, when temptation fell in his way, for the Queen's hounds came along in full cry, and after them a very full field.

"I must have a gallop for once in a way," said the doctor, and, yielding to the temptation, away he went, till, feeling he had done enough, he was about to draw rein, when he saw that something was wrong on his left. Cantering up, he was directly after one of a group helping to free a lady from her fallen horse, which was struggling frantically to extricate itself from a ditch into which both had come down.

A gate was brought, the lady borne to the nearest cottage, and Oldroyd's services eagerly accepted.

"Badly injured," he said, after a rapid examination. "Someone had better ride over and get a carriage from the nearest place--an open carriage in which a hurdle and mattress can be laid. I'll stay and do my best, but I should telegraph to town for Sir Randall Bray. An operation will be necessary. Are any of the lady's friends here?"

"No; but I saw Major Rolph leading the field half-an-hour ago. This is Mrs Rolph."

Oldroyd started, and bent down over the insensible woman for a moment, at the same time softly pressing back the thick, dark hair from her clammy brow, and there were the lineaments he had not before recognised; it was the face of the keeper's daughter, softened and refined, though now terribly drawn with pain.

"Yes, doctor, she's gettin' over it," said Hayle, one day when Oldroyd met him close to Brackley. "But she's had a near shave. It's you, though, as saved her life, same as you did mine."

"I'm glad she's better, I'm sure," said Oldroyd. "And you--do you ever feel your old wound?"

"Oh, yes, just a twinge or two when the weather changes. But Sir John's very kind, and things go very easy with me now, thanks to you, sir-- thanks to you."

"Oh, all right, Hayle, all right. Got a good show of pheasants this winter? Plenty left?"

"Heaps, sir. Oh, you may trust me. I look pretty sharp after 'em, I can tell you. I know, I do."

The great dark fellow gave a solemn wink as he stood before Oldroyd, in his brown velveteen coat and b.u.t.tons, with a capital double gun under his arm.

"Yes, I suppose you do," said the doctor. "Game-keeping is better than poaching, eh?"

"When you've got a good master, sir. But, look here, sir, when are you coming over? Sir John said you were last week."

"As soon as I can; too busy yet."