The Northern Iron

  CHAPTER XVIII

  The Comtesse underrated her powers of endurance. For two more whole daysshe encouraged Captain Twinely to make love to her. She sat with him inthe sandhills, she walked with him along the strand, she flattered him,ogled him, enticed him, till the man was beside himself with thedesire of her. But in private it was not safe to speak to her about thecaptain. Her temper, when the hours of her love-making were over for theday, was extremely bad. Even Hannah, who was a match for most women inthe use of her tongue, shrank from the sharp gibes of the Comtesse. Unatried in vain to soothe the ruffled lady, and had to bear much from her,but Una could have borne anything patiently. The east wind blew gentlyday and night, bringing--surely bringing--the white sails of the brig.The sea remained calm and she was able to go twice more to the cave. Shesaw the yeomen spread over the country, searching everywhere, throughfields and hills and along the river banks, by the shore, among therocks, over the Causeway cliffs, through the sandhills, the ruins ofDunluce, among the white cliffs of Port-rush Strand, at high tide andlow tide, everywhere except the one place--the nook where Una bathed.Estelle de Tourneville secured that spot from the searchers' gaze. Noman dared go there. Una could forgive the worst of tempers to the womanwho purchased such security. And the Comtesse was excusable. Doubtless,she paid a heavy price for a delicately-nurtured and fastidious lady. Noone ever knew what she endured. Neither to Una nor any one else did shetell at the time or afterwards the details of the captain's courtship.

  At last, one evening after dusk, Maurice rode in from Ballycastle.He brought glorious news. Captain Getty was on his way. He might beexpected off the coast the next day. Maurice had left the brig at thequay at Greenock ready to sail. Next morning he was up early. He tookbread and meat and went alone to Pleaskin Head, carrying his father'slong telescope with him. All morning he lay on the edge of the cliffpeering eastward across the sea. He was strangely nervous now that thecritical moment had arrived. He understood that the coast was beingcarefully watched, that the sight of a ship lying-to a mile or twofrom the shore, would certainly excite suspicion; that it might be verydifficult for him to take his boat round to the cave where Neal layhidden without being followed. It was absolutely necessary for him tocatch sight of the brig before any one else did, to get off from theshore before the brig lay to, to be well on his way to her before anyother boat put out to chase him. He knew that his own movements werewatched. He was followed from the house to Pleaskin Head by two yeomen.As he lay on the cliffs he saw them a few hundred yards inland keepingguard on him.

  At ten o'clock he caught sight of the topsails of a ship far east,beyond the blue outline of the Rathlin hills. The wind, very feeble atdawn, was freshening slightly. The lower sails of the vessel rose slowlyinto view. Maurice guessed her to be a brig--to be the brig he lookedfor. He lay still, watching her intently, till he was sure. Then hewent home. He found Una and the Comtesse in the breakfast room. CaptainTwinely, on the lawn outside, leaned on the window sill and talked tothem. Maurice, uncontrollably excited, whispered to Una--

  "Now."

  She rose, and followed him from the room. Captain Twinely eyed themsharply. He had ceased to distrust the Comtesse, but he was keenlysuspicious of Maurice. Since he had been robbed of his clothes in Antrimhe hated Maurice nearly as bitterly as he did Neal, and was determinedto have him strictly watched.

  "Pardon me, dear lady," he said, "I must give some orders to thepatrol."

  "Don't be long, then," she said, "I want you to-day, Captain Twinely.Come back to me."

  Their eyes met, and the Comtesse felt certain that her victim wouldreturn to her. She leaped from her chair the moment he left her and ranfrom the room.

  "Una," she cried. "Una, Maurice, where are you?"

  She found them; they were packing clothes in a hand-bag--clothes, shesupposed, for Neal.

  "He's gone to give orders to his men about you, Maurice. I know he has.I haven't a moment to explain. Leave everything to me. I'll manage him,only trust me and do what I say. Una, are you a born idiot? Take thosethings out of the bag. How can you go about with that travelling-bag inyour hand and not excite suspicion? If you must have clothes wrap themin a bathing-sheet. Oh, what a fool you are!"

  She left them no time to answer her, but fled back to thebreakfast-room. A moment later Captain Twinely found her, lounging--afigure of luxurious laziness--among the cushions of Lord Dunseveric'seasy chair.

  "We are going on the sea to-day," she said, "my nephew, Maurice, haspromised to take us in a boat to the Skerries. I have never been there,but I hear they are delightful. I hope you will come with us. Please sayyes. I should feel so much safer in a boat if you were there. My nephewis very rash. He frightens me. I do not trust him. I shall not feelsecure or easy in my mind unless you come, too. Besides"--her voicesank to a delicious whisper--"I shall not really enjoy myself unlessyou are there."

  She stretched her hand out and laid it with the tenderest motion ofcaress on his hand. Captain Twinely could not hesitate, he promised togo with her. In the back of his mind was a feeling that if he were ofthe party Maurice St. Clair could not attempt to communicate with thefugitive.

  "Maurice," said the Comtesse, "Maurice, are you ready? Captain Twinelyis coming with us to the Skerries for a pic-nic. Won't that be nice?Come along quickly, we are starting."

  She took the captain with her, and walked down to the cove where theboat lay. Una and Maurice, with their bundles of clothes, followed.

  "Una," said Maurice, "what does she mean? I can't take this man in theboat, and I won't. What does she mean by inviting him?"

  "I don't know, but we must trust her. We can trust her. She's beenwonderful all these last three days. Only for her I could never have gotfood to Neal."

  "Well," said Maurice, "I suppose if the worst comes to the worst it willonly be a matter of knocking him on the head with an oar. I don't wantto do that if I can help it. My lord will be angry if he has to getme out of a fresh scrape. It will be a serious matter to assault thiscaptain in cold blood. I'll do it, of course, if necessary, but I wouldrather not."

  The boat was dragged down the beach. The Comtesse looked at it, andprotested.

  "Maurice, surely you are not going in that little boat. It's far toosmall. It's not safe."

  "Oh, it's safe enough," said Maurice, "and anyway there's no other."

  "There is," said the Comtesse. "There, look at that nice broad, flatboat. I'll go in that."

  "The cobble for lifting the salmon net!" said Maurice, with a laugh. "Mydear aunt, you couldn't go to sea in that. She can't sail, and it takesfour men to pull her as fast as a snail would crawl. Who ever heard ofgoing off to the Skerries in a salmon cobble?"

  "Well," said the Comtesse, angrily, "I won't go in the other. I knowthat one is too small. Isn't she too small, Captain Twinely? Look at thesize of the sea. Look how far off the island is! No, I won't go. If youpersist in being disobliging, Maurice, you and Una can go by yourselves.Captain Twinely and I will stay on shore."

  The boat was already in the water and Una sat in the stern. Maurice,ankle deep in water, held her bow. Maurice laughed aloud. He began tounderstand his aunt's plan.

  "Come, Captain Twinely, we will go for a walk along the cliffs."

  Her hand was on his arm. She held him. He looked at the boat. A swiftdoubt shot through his mind. Something in the way Maurice laughedaroused his suspicion. He took a step forward. The Comtesse clungtightly to his arm. Maurice gave a vigorous shove and leapt forward overthe bow. The boat shot out and floated clear of the land.

  "Isn't he a disagreeable boy?" said the Comtesse. "You wouldn't haverefused to do what I asked you, would you, Captain Twinely?"

  Her eyes sought his, but he was watching the boat uneasily. Maurice hadthe oars out, and was pulling round the Black Rock.

  "He's not going to the Skerries," he said, "he's going in the otherdirection."

  "What does it matter where he goes? Besides, you know what stupid thingsboats are. They always turn away from th
e place they want to go to. It'swhat they call tacking. Maurice must be tacking now. Let him manage hishorrid boat himself. We needn't trouble ourselves about him. We will gofor a walk on the tops of the cliffs."

  "I thought you did not like walking on the cliffs, you never would walkthere with me before."

  "Please don't be cross with me. May I not change my mind?"

  She stroked his hand and looked up into his face with eyes whichactually had tears in them. "I shall be so miserable if you are cross.I shall feel that I have spoiled your day. I wish now that I had gone inthe little boat. I wish I had been upset and drowned. Then perhaps youwould have been sorry for me."

  She was crying in earnest now. Captain Twinely yielded, yielded to hertears, to the fascination of her presence, to the passion of his lovefor her. Very tenderly and gently he led her up the steep path to thetop of the cliffs. Holding her hands in his he walked silently besideher. He was a bad man, revengeful, cruel, cowardly, but he really lovedthe woman beside him. His was no heroic, spiritual love, but it was thebest, the strongest, of which his nature was capable. He could neverfor her sake have lived purely and nobly, or learned self-denial, but,cowardly as he was, he would have died for her.

  Suddenly she stood still, snatched her hand from his grasp, and steppedaway from him.

  "Now," she cried, "at last! at last! There, Captain Twinely, there isthe boat with the sail spread, shooting out to sea. Look at her; lookcarefully; look well. How many people are there in her? Can you see? Ican see very well. There are three, and who is the third?"

  The tears were gone out of her eyes now. They blazed with triumph andsatisfaction. She laughed aloud, exultingly, bitterly.

  "Who is the third? Can you see? He is Neal Ward, the man you've chased,the man you've been seeking day and night. There"--she pointed furthereastwards--"there is the American brig which will bear him away fromyou. Do you understand?"

  Captain Twinely followed her gaze and her pointing finger. He began tounderstand.

  "And I did it. I fooled you. I blinded your eyes while my niece fed himin his hiding-place. I encouraged you to seek everywhere, and kept youback from the place where he was. I--I made pretence of tolerating yourhateful presence. I made you think that I cared for you, loved you, you,you--I would rather love a toad."

  "You have deceived me, then, all the time, played with me."

  "Yes," she laughed wildly, "deceived you, played with you, fooled you,cheated you, and hated you--yes, hated, hated the very sight of you, theabominable sound of your voice, the sickening touch of your hand."

  "And I loved you," he said, simply. "I loved you so well that I think Iwould have done anything for you. There was no need for you to fool me.I would have let the man go if you had asked me. I would have let himgo, though I hate him, and I could not have asked leave even to kissyour hand for my reward. I would have been content just to have pleasedyou. Why did you cheat me?"

  The Comtesse had no pity for him. The memory of the words he had spokento her, of his foolish face, of his amorous ways, of the touchings ofhis hands which she had endured, thronged on her. Her lips curled backover her teeth. Her eyes were hard like shining steel.

  "I hate you," she hissed at him. "I have always hated you since thenight when you seized me and dragged me into the meeting-house. I wouldhave revenged myself for that even if there had been no prisoner to savefrom you."

  "I did not do that," said Captain Twinely, "and I did not know who youwere at the time. Be just to me even if you hate me. God knows that Iwould have died to save you from the smallest hurt."

  He fell on the ground before her.

  "Oh," he cried, "have some pity for me. I love you with all my soul. Letme serve you, let me wait on you. Let me see you sometimes and hear yourvoice. Have you no pity for me? I do not ask for love, or friendship, orthe meanest gift. Only do not hate me. I have led an evil life, I knowit, but for your sake, for your sake, if you will pity me, I will doanything. I will be anything you bid me. But do not hate me. For thelove of God, by the mercy of Christ the Saviour, do not cast me utterlyaway from you. Do not hate me."

  He crawled forward, and clutched the bottom of her skirt with his hand.With a swift movement she snatched it from his grasp.

  "I do hate you," she cried, "and I shall always hate you. From this outI shall always hope and pray and strive to get to heaven when I die,not for the love of the saints or because I think that I shall be happythere, but just because I shall be safe from the sight of you, for youwill surely be in hell."

  She turned and walked down the path they had ascended together. She lefthim grovelling on the ground, his face slobbered with tears and grimywith the clay his hands rubbed over it.