To Win the Love He Sought Part 28

At first I could scarcely stand, and, indeed, as I turned the corner of the avenue and faced the sea, a gust of wind carried me off from my feet, and I had to cling to the low iron railings for support. The thunder of the storm and the waves seemed to shake the air around me.

The sky was dark and riven with faint flashes of stormlight, which slanted down to the sea. By hard struggling I managed to make my way on to the cliffs, and stood there, looking downward, with my arm pa.s.sed round a tall fir sapling for support. What a night it was! The spray of the waves breaking against the cliff leaped up into my face mingled with the blinding rain, and dimmed my vision so that I could only catch a faint view of the boiling, seething gulf below. Beyond, all was chaos; for a gray haze floated upon the water and met the low hanging clouds.

And clear above the deep thunder of the sea came the shrill yelling of the wind in the pine groves which fringed the cliffs, sounding like the demoniacal laughter of an army of devils. Shall I ever forget the horror of that day, I wonder! I think not! It is written upon a page of my memory in characters over which time can have no power.

And in that moment of agony, when my thoughts were full of his peril, I wrestled no longer with my secret; I knew that I loved him. I knew that he was dear to me as no other man could be. I knew that I was face to face with a misery unchanging and unending.

Were not the fates themselves fighting against me in my task? That it should be, of all men upon this earth, he, the son of the woman whose death would be at my door. A murderess! Should I be that! The wind caught up the word which had burst from my pale lips, and I seemed to hear it echoed with fiendish mirth among the bending tree tops of the plantation. A murderess! and of his mother, the mother whom he loved so fondly! If he should know it! If the day should come when my sin should be laid bare, and he should know that he had given his love to such a one. Sin! Was it a sin? Was my love turning the whole world upside down?

Had it seemed so to me before? Was it sin or justice! Oh! to whom should I look for strength to hold me to my purpose. To pray would be blasphemous. For me there was no G.o.d, no friend on earth, no heaven! I could only think of that one shattered life, and hug it to my memory.

I wandered backward and forward in the storm, drenched and cold, yet all unmindful of my state. I could have borne no roof over my head in those hours of my agony. The thought of his danger maddened me. Even though I knew so well that he could be nothing to me; that if he knew the truth, he would loathe me; that soon the day would come when I should scarcely dare to raise my eyes to his before we parted forever. All these things seemed to make me long the more pa.s.sionately to look once more into his face, to know that he was safe. It was my fault that he was in this danger. Horrible thought!

I was exhausted; worn out in body and mind by the sickening fears which no effort of will seemed able to quell. Even my limbs at last gave way beneath me, and I sank upon my knees, holding my face in my hands. Had the edge of the cliff been a little nearer, could I have done it without any physical effort, I had been content to close my eyes, and throw myself into the sea. If there are no joys in death, at least there is rest.

Then a voice came to me.

"Margharita!"

I leaped up from the wet ground with wildly-beating heart. Was it some mocking trick of the storm--that voice in my ears, that dear, dear voice? My eyes seemed dilated, and through the deep gloom I saw a tall figure striding toward me. Then I know that I cried out and called to him by his name; and alas! by the tone of my voice, and the light that flashed into my face, my secret was gone! For evil or for good he knew then that I loved him!

CHAPTER XXVI

STORMS

There came a time then of blessed and grateful unconsciousness. The tumult of the storm was reduced to a mere singing in my ears, and darkness seemed to have closed in around me. When I opened my eyes, I was resting in his arms, and a delicious sense of happiness was stealing through me. Sensation had overpowered memory, and I was happy. Ah! if life could have ended then--that was how I felt. If only the future and that shrunken relentless figure pointing me on to tragedy--if only they could have melted away! Alas! alas!

He had become bold at my mute self-yielding, and at something which he must have seen in my face. I felt him bending down over me, and suddenly my lips partly opened to frame the feeblest of protests were closed in a long pa.s.sionate kiss, and his arms drew me toward him. Still I made no effort to release myself. A desperate self-abandonment had crept in upon me. The happiness of that moment should recompense me for the misery to come. Time took to itself wings then; I had no power or will to measure it. If h.e.l.l itself had been yawning at my feet, I was content.

It was he who spoke at last, still clasping my hands, and looking eagerly into my face.

"Margharita, my love, I have come back to you. How shall I bless this storm!"

"Have you been in danger?" I asked softly.

"Nothing to speak of," he laughed. "We ran for Yarmouth harbor directly we saw what was coming, and only lost a few spars. What a sea it was, though. Wave after wave broke over our bows and swept the deck. It was a miracle we lost no men."

"And how is it that you are home so quickly?"

"I took the first train from Yarmouth, and wired for a special from the junction. I knew that my mother would be anxious, and they told me that there was very little chance of telegrams being delivered safely; so much damage had been done to the wires."

"You thought of no one but your mother?" I whispered, a little reproachfully.

"My darling! how was I to know that any one else cared?"

"Ah!"

The sense of relief in my heart was over-powering, I seemed to have no desire for speech. The sound of his voice was like music to me, and I preferred to listen.

"It seems to me that I have had no thought save of you, Margharita," he went on slowly. "In all that storm, when flying clouds and spray and driving rain shut us in on every side, I thought of nothing else save of you. No one knows the boat so well as I, and for the last four hours I was lashed to a board, steering. Margharita, all that time, and all the time I stood on the bridge, I seemed to see you always. Sometimes it was the mist of rain and spray which opened to let you through; and sometimes--sometimes I almost fancied that you were by my side. Think of you, Margharita! Why, I was a haunted man. In all that thunder of sea and wind, when I had to use a speaking trumpet to make my men hear me a few yards away, I could only hear your voice in my ears as distinctly as you hear me now. They say that when one is in danger, or near death, that the imagination is quickened. It must have been so with me, for your presence and the sound of your voice were very real to me."

"How did you find me here?" I asked.

"Well, as soon as I could decently get away from my people, I asked for you. They sent to your room, and could not find you. Then one of the servants thought that she had seen you leave the house and come this way. So I started off in search."

"It was foolish of me to come out. I could not rest indoors."

"Why?" eagerly.

"The storm was so dreadful."

"And so you came out into it. A bad reason. Was there no other?"

"I was anxious, too, I think. I wanted to see what the sea looked like."

"Why were you anxious; what about?"

"Somebody was in danger."

"My darling!"

His lips met mine again. My strength seemed altogether gone. I made no effort to escape.

"I didn't say who 'somebody' was," I protested weakly.

He laughed gaily.

"But I know."

"Sure?"

"Quite sure."

"I may have relatives who are sailors."

"You may have, but you haven't."

I considered for a moment.

"It was purely a matter of responsibility, you know. I felt that I had something to do with your going away. I was disagreeable last night, and you were offended. See?"

"Not a bit."

"You are very stupid."

"I am not now; I was last night."