CHAPTER XXXIX
AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR
I chatted with Mrs. Jack for a few minutes with what nonchalance I couldmuster, for I wanted to cover up Marjory's retreat. I have not thefaintest idea what we talked about; I only know that the dear old ladysat and beamed on me, with her lips pursed up in thought, and went onwith her knitting. She agreed with everything I said, whatever it was.I longed to follow Marjory and comfort her. I could see that she wasdistressed, though I did not know the measure of it. I waited patiently,however, for I knew that she would either come to me, or send me word tojoin her when she wanted me.
She must have come back very quietly, almost tip-toe, for I had notheard a sound when I saw her in the doorway. She was beckoning to me,but in such a manner that Mrs. Jack could not see her. I was about togo quietly, but she held up a warning hand with five fingers outspread;from which I took it that I was to follow in five minutes.
I stole away quietly, priding myself on the fact that Mrs. Jack did notnotice my departure; but on thinking the matter over later, I came tothe conclusion that the quiet old lady knew a good deal more of what wasgoing on round her than appeared on the surface. Her little homily toMarjory on a wife's duty has set me thinking many a time since.
I found Marjory, as I expected, in the Ladies' Room. She was lookingout of the window when I came in. I took her in my arms for an instant,and she laid her head on my shoulder. Then she drew herself away, andpointed to a great chair close by for me to sit down. When I was seatedshe took a little stool, and placing it beside me, sat at my feet. Fromour position I had to look down at her, and she had to look up at me.Often and often since then have I recalled the picture she made, sittingthere in her sweet graceful simplicity. Well may I remember it, forthrough many and many an aching hour has every incident of that day,however trivial, been burned into my brain. Marjory leant one elbowon the arm of my chair, and put the other hand in mine with a sweetconfiding gesture which touched me to the heart. Since our peril of twonights before, she was very, very dear to me. All the selfishness seemedto have disappeared from my affection for her, and I was her true loveras purely as it is given to a man to be. She wanted to speak; I couldsee that it was an effort to do so, for her breast heaved a few times,as a diver breathes before making his downward leap. Then she masteredherself, and with infinite grace and tenderness spoke:
"I'm afraid I have been very selfish and inconsiderate. Oh! yes I have"for I was commencing a protest. "I know it now. Mrs. Jack was quiteright. It never occurred to me what a brute I have been; and you sogood to me, and so patient. Well, dear, that's all over now! I wantto tell you, right here, that if you like I'll go away with youto-morrow--to-day if you wish; and we'll let every one know that we aremarried, and go and live together." She stopped, and we sat hand in handwith our fingers clasping. I remained quite still with a calm thatamazed me, for my brain was in a whirl. But somehow there came to me,even as it had come to her, a sense of duty. How could I accept such asweet sacrifice. The very gravity of her preparation for thought andspeech showed me that she was loth to leave the course on which she hadentered. That she loved me I had no doubt; was it not for me that shewas willing to give it all up. And then my course of action rose clearbefore me. Instinctively I stood up as I spoke to her, and I felt thatbig stalwart man as I was, the pretty self-denying girl at my feet ruledme, for she was more to me than my own wishes, my own hopes, my ownsoul.
"Marjory, do you remember when you sat on the throne in the cave, andgave me the accolade?" She bowed her head in acquiescence; her eyesfell, and her face and ears grew rosy pink. "Well, when you dubbed meyour knight, and I took the vow, I meant all I said! Your touch onmy shoulder was more to me than if it had come from the Queen on herthrone, with all the glory of a thousand years behind her. Oh, my dear,I was in earnest--in earnest then, as I am in earnest now. I was, andam, your true knight! You are my lady; to serve, and make her feet walkin easy ways! It is a terrible temptation to me to take what you haveoffered as done, and walk straightway into Paradise in our new life.But, my dear! my dear! I too can be selfish if I am tempted too far; andI must not think of my own wishes alone. Since I first saw your faceI have dreamt a dream. That a time would come when you, with all theworld to choose from, would come to me of your own free will. When youwouldn't want to look back with regret at anything, done or undone. Iwant you to be happy; to look forward only--unless the backward thoughtis of happiness. Now, if you give up your purpose and come to me withthe feeling that you have only made a choice, the regret that you didnot have the opportunity you longed for, may grow and grow, till--tillit may become an unhappiness. Let me be sententious for a moment.'Remember Lot's wife' was not merely the warning of a fact; it touched agreat allegory. You and I are young; we are both happy; we have all theworld before us, and numberless good things to thank God for. I want youto enjoy them to the full; and, my dear one, I will not stand in yourway in anything which you may wish. Be free, Marjory, be quite free! Thegirl I want beside my hearth is one who would rather be there thananywhere else in the wide world. Isn't that worth wishing for; isn'tit worth waiting for? It may be selfish in the highest plane ofselfishness; I suppose it is. But anyhow, it is my dream; and I love youso truly and so steadfastly that I am not afraid to wait!"
As I spoke, Marjory looked at me lovingly, more and more. Then all atonce she broke down, and began to sob and cry as if her heart wouldbreak. That swept away in a moment all my self-command; I took her in myarms and tried to comfort her. Kisses and sweet words fairly rained uponher. Presently she grew calm, and said as she gently disengaged herself:
"You don't know how well you argue. I'm nearer at this moment to givingup all my plans, than I ever thought I should be in my life. Wait alittle longer, dear. Only a little; the time may be shorter than youthink. But this you may take for your comfort now, and your remembrancelater; that in all my life, whatever may come, I shall never forget yourgoodness to me, your generosity, your love, your sympathy--your--! Butthere, you are indeed my Knight; and I love you with all my heart andsoul!" and she threw herself into my arms.
When I left Crom after lunch the weather seemed to have changed. Therewas a coldness in the air which emphasised the rustling of the dryleaves as they were swept by intermittent puffs of wind. Altogetherthere was a sense of some presage of gloom--or disaster--of discontent,I knew not what. I was loth to part with Marjory, but we both felt itwas necessary I should go. I had not had my letters for three days; andbesides there were a thousand things to be attended to about the houseat Whinnyfold. Moreover, we began to think of the treasure, the portablepart of which--the jewels--was left almost open in the dining room. Idid not want to alarm Marjory by any dim fears of my own; I knew that,in any case, there might be a reaction from her present high spirits.The remembrance of the trials and anxieties of the past few days wouldcome back to her in the silence of the night. She saw, however, with thenew eyes of her wifely love, that I was anxious about something; justlyinferring that it was about her, she said to me quietly:
"You need not be alarmed about me, darling. I promise you I shall notstir out of the house till you come. But you will come as early as youcan to-morrow; won't you. Somehow, I don't like your leaving me now. Iused not to mind it; but to-day it all seems different. We don't seem tobe the same to each other, do we, since we felt that water creep up usin the dark. However, I shall be very good. I have a lot of work to do,and letters to write; and the time may not go so very slowly, or seem sovery long, till I see my husband again."
Oh! it was sweet to look in her eyes, and see the love that shone fromthem; to hear the delicate cooing music of her voice. My heart seemedto fly back to her as I moved away; and every step I took, its stringsseemed nearer and nearer to the breaking point. When I looked back atthe turn of the winding avenue between the fir trees, the last I sawthrough my dimming eyes was the wave of her hand and the shining of hereyes blending into one mass of white light.
In my rooms at the hotel I found a lot
of letters about business, and afew from friends. There was one however which made me think. It was inthe writing of Adams, and was as follows, no place or date being given:
"The people at Crom had better be careful of their servants! There is afootman who often goes out after dark and returns just before morning.He may be in league with enemies. Anyhow, where he gets out and in, andhow, others may do the same. _Verb. sap, suff. A._"
We had been watched then, and by the Secret Service detectives. I wasglad that Marjory had promised not to go out till I came. If "Mac's men"had seen her, others might also; and the eyes of the others might havebeen more penetrating, or their reasoning powers more keen. However, Ithought it well to send her a word of warning. I copied Adams's letterinto mine, with just a word or two of love added. I was amazed to findthat altogether it ran to several pages! The gillie of the hotel took itover in a pony cart, with instructions to bring me back an answer toWhinnyfold. For safety I enclosed it in an envelope to Mrs. Jack. Then,when I had written a few notes and telegrams, I biked over to my houseon the cliff.
It was a bleak afternoon and everything seemed grey, sky and sea alike;even the rocks, with their crowning of black seaweed swept with the foamof lapping waves. Inside the house nothing had of course been stirred;but it seemed so bleak without a fire and with the curtains wide, that Imade up a fire of billets and drew the heavy curtains close. As I stoodin the great bay window and looked out on the fretting sea, and listenedto the soughing of the rising wind, a great melancholy seemed to stealover me, so that I became in a way lost in a mist of gloom. So far asI remember, my thoughts were back with the time when I had seen theprocession of the dead coming up out of the sea from the Skares beyond,and of the fierce looking Spaniard who walked alone in their ranks andlooked at me with living eyes. I must have been in a sort of day-dreamand unconscious of all around me; for, though I had not noticed any oneapproaching, I was startled by a knocking at the door. The house was notquite finished; there were electric bells in position, but they had notyet been charged, and there was no knocker on the door. The knocking wasthat of bare knuckles on a panel. I thought of course that it was thegillie back from Crom, for I did not expect any one else; so I went atonce and opened the door. I recoiled with pure wonder. There, lookinggrave and dignified, an incarnation of the word 'gentleman' stood DonBernardino. His eyes, though now serene, and even kindly, were the eyesof the dead man from the sea. Behind him, a few yards off, stood GormalaMacNiel with an eager look on her face, half concealed by such a grinas made me feel as though I had been trapped, or in some way brought tobook. The Spaniard at once spoke:
"Sir, your pardon! I wish much that I may speak with you in private, andsoon. Forgive me if that I trouble you, but it is on a matter of suchmoment, to me at the least, that I have ventured an intrusion. I learnedat the hotel that you had hither come; so with the guidance of this goodlady, who did me much inform, I have found." As he spoke of Gormala,he half turned and made a gesture towards her. She had been watchingour every movement with cat-like eagerness; but when she saw that wewere speaking of her, a dark look swept her face, and she moved awayscowling. The Spaniard went on:
"What I have to say is secret, and I would be alone with you. May itbe that I enter your house; or will you come to mine? I do not mean mycastle of Crom, but the house at Ellon which I have taken, until suchtime as the Senora Jack and that so fair patriot of hers shall wish toleave it." His manner was so gravely courteous and his bearing so noble,that I found it almost impossible to mistrust him, even when thereflashed across my memory that dark red-eyed look of his at Crom, whichrecalled so vividly the dead Spaniard with the living eyes of hate inthe procession of ghosts from the Skares. I felt that, in any case,it could not do any harm to hear what he had to say: 'Forewarned isforearmed' is a good apothegm in dealing with an enemy. I motioned himinto the house; he bowed gravely and entered. As I shut the door behindus, I caught sight of Gormala with an eager look on her face stealingswiftly towards the house. She evidently wanted to be near enough towatch, and to hear if she could.
As I was opening the door of the drawing-room for Don Bernardino toenter, a sudden glimpse of its interior, seen in the dim light throughthe chinks of the shutters, changed my plans. This was the roomimprovised as a dressing room for Marjory, and the clothes which she hadworn in the cave were scattered about the room, hung over the backs ofchairs to dry. Her toilet matters also were on the table. AltogetherI felt that to bring the stranger into the room would not only be anindelicacy towards my wife, but might in some way give a clue to ourenemy to guess our secret. With a hasty excuse I closed the door andmotioned my guest into the dining room across the hall. I asked himto be seated, and then went over to the window and pulled aside thecurtains to give us light. I felt that somehow I was safer in the light,and that it might enable me to learn more than I could have done in thedim twilight of the curtained room.
When I turned round, the Spaniard was still standing, facing me. Heappeared to be studiously keeping himself still; but I could see thatunder his long black lashes his eyes were roaming round the room.Unconsciously to myself, as I know now, my eyes followed his and took inthe frightful untidiness of the place. The great hearth was piled withextinct ashes; the table was littered with unwashed cups and platesand dishes, for we had not cleared up anything after our night in thecave. Rugs and pillows were massed untidily on the floor, and the staleprovisions on the table made themselves manifest in the close atmosphereof the room. I was moving over to throw up the window so as to let in alittle fresh air, when I remembered that Gormala was probably outsidewith her ears strained close to the wall to hear anything that we mightsay. So, instead, I apologised for the disorder, saying that I hadcamped me there for some days whilst working at my book--the excuse Ihad given at the hotel for my spells of solitary life.
The Spaniard bowed low with grave courtesy, and implored that I wouldmake no apology. If there were anything not perfect, and for himself hedid not see it, such deficiencies were swept away and lost in the tideof honour with which I had overwhelmed him in the permission to enter myhouse; and much more to the same effect.
Then he came to the serious side of things and began to speak to thepoint.