RUPERT'S JOURNAL--_Continued_.
_June_ 6, 1907.
Last night I had a new experience of my Lady of the Shroud--in so far asform was concerned, at any rate. I was in bed, and just falling asleep,when I heard a queer kind of scratching at the glass door of the terrace.I listened acutely, my heart beating hard. The sound seemed to come fromlow down, close to the floor. I jumped out of bed, ran to the window,and, pulling aside the heavy curtains, looked out.
The garden looked, as usual, ghostly in the moonlight, but there was notthe faintest sign of movement anywhere, and no one was on or near theterrace. I looked eagerly down to where the sound had seemed to comefrom.
There, just inside the glass door, as though it had been pushed under thedoor, lay a paper closely folded in several laps. I picked it up andopened it. I was all in a tumult, for my heart told me whence it came.Inside was written in English, in a large, sprawling hand, such as mightbe from an English child of seven or eight:
"Meet me at the Flagstaff on the Rock!"
I knew the place, of course. On the farthermost point of the rock onwhich the Castle stands is set a high flagstaff, whereon in old time thebanner of the Vissarion family flew. At some far-off time, when theCastle had been liable to attack, this point had been strongly fortified.Indeed, in the days when the bow was a martial weapon it must have beenquite impregnable.
A covered gallery, with loopholes for arrows, had been cut in the solidrock, running right round the point, quite surrounding the flagstaff andthe great boss of rock on whose centre it was reared. A narrowdrawbridge of immense strength had connected--in peaceful times, andstill remained--the outer point of rock with an entrance formed in theouter wall, and guarded with flanking towers and a portcullis. Its usewas manifestly to guard against surprise. From this point only could beseen the line of the rocks all round the point. Thus, any secret attackby boats could be made impossible.
Having hurriedly dressed myself, and taking with me both hunting-knifeand revolver, I went out on the terrace, taking the precaution, unusualto me, of drawing the grille behind me and locking it. Matters aroundthe Castle are in far too disturbed a condition to allow the taking ofany foolish chances, either in the way of being unarmed or of leaving theprivate entrance to the Castle open. I found my way through the rockypassage, and climbed by the Jacob's ladder fixed on the rock--a device ofconvenience in time of peace--to the foot of the flagstaff.
I was all on fire with expectation, and the time of going seemedexceeding long; so I was additionally disappointed by the contrast when Idid not see my Lady there when I arrived. However, my heart beat freelyagain--perhaps more freely than ever--when I saw her crouching in theshadow of the Castle wall. From where she was she could not be seen fromany point save that alone which I occupied; even from there it was onlyher white shroud that was conspicuous through the deep gloom of theshadow. The moonlight was so bright that the shadows were almostunnaturally black.
I rushed over towards her, and when close was about to say impulsively,"Why did you leave your tomb?" when it suddenly struck me that thequestion would be malapropos and embarrassing in many ways. So, betterjudgment prevailing, I said instead:
"It has been so long since I saw you! It has seemed an eternity to me!"Her answer came as quickly as even I could have wished; she spokeimpulsively and without thought:
"It has been long to me too! Oh, so long! so long! I have asked you tocome out here because I wanted to see you so much that I could not waitany longer. I have been heart-hungry for a sight of you!"
Her words, her eager attitude, the ineffable something which conveys themessages of the heart, the longing expression in her eyes as the fullmoonlight fell on her face, showing the stars as living gold--for in hereagerness she had stepped out towards me from the shadow--all set me onfire. Without a thought or a word--for it was Nature speaking in thelanguage of Love, which is a silent tongue--I stepped towards her andtook her in my arms. She yielded with that sweet unconsciousness whichis the perfection of Love, as if it was in obedience to some commanduttered before the beginning of the world. Probably without anyconscious effort on either side--I know there was none on mine--ourmouths met in the first kiss of love.
At the time nothing in the meeting struck me as out of the common. Butlater in the night, when I was alone and in darkness, whenever I thoughtof it all--its strangeness and its stranger rapture--I could not but besensible of the bizarre conditions for a love meeting. The place lonely,the time night, the man young and strong, and full of life and hope andambition; the woman, beautiful and ardent though she was, a womanseemingly dead, clothed in the shroud in which she had been wrapped whenlying in her tomb in the crypt of the old church.
Whilst we were together, anyhow, there was little thought of the kind; noreasoning of any kind on my part. Love has its own laws and its ownlogic. Under the flagstaff, where the Vissarion banner was wont to flapin the breeze, she was in my arms; her sweet breath was on my face; herheart was beating against my own. What need was there for reason at all?_Inter arma silent leges_--the voice of reason is silent in the stress ofpassion. Dead she may be, or Un-dead--a Vampire with one foot in Helland one on earth. But I love her; and come what may, here or hereafter,she is mine. As my mate, we shall fare along together, whatsoever theend may be, or wheresoever our path may lead. If she is indeed to be wonfrom the nethermost Hell, then be mine the task!
But to go back to the record. When I had once started speaking to her inwords of passion I could not stop. I did not want to--if I could; andshe did not appear to wish it either. Can there be a woman--alive ordead--who would not want to hear the rapture of her lover expressed toher whilst she is enclosed in his arms?
There was no attempt at reticence on my part now; I took it for grantedthat she knew all that I surmised, and, as she made neither protest norcomment, that she accepted my belief as to her indeterminate existence.Sometimes her eyes would be closed, but even then the rapture of her facewas almost beyond belief. Then, when the beautiful eyes would open andgaze on me, the stars that were in them would shine and scintillate asthough they were formed of living fire. She said little, very little;but though the words were few, every syllable was fraught with love, andwent straight to the very core of my heart.
By-and-by, when our transport had calmed to joy, I asked when I mightnext see her, and how and where I might find her when I should want to.She did not reply directly, but, holding me close in her arms, whisperedin my ear with that breathless softness which is a lover's rapture ofspeech:
"I have come here under terrible difficulties, not only because I loveyou--and that would be enough--but because, as well as the joy of seeingyou, I wanted to warn you."
"To warn me! Why?" I queried. Her reply came with a bashful hesitation,with something of a struggle in it, as of one who for some ulteriorreason had to pick her words:
"There are difficulties and dangers ahead of you. You are beset withthem; and they are all the greater because they are, of grim necessity,hidden from you. You cannot go anywhere, look in any direction, doanything, say anything, but it may be a signal for danger. My dear, itlurks everywhere--in the light as well as in the darkness; in the open aswell as in the secret places; from friends as well as foes; when you areleast prepared; when you may least expect it. Oh, I know it, and what itis to endure; for I share it for you--for your dear sake!"
"My darling!" was all I could say, as I drew her again closer to me andkissed her. After a bit she was calmer; seeing this, I came back to thesubject that she had--in part, at all events--come to me to speak about:
"But if difficulty and danger hedge me in so everlastingly, and if I amto have no indication whatever of its kind or purpose, what can I do?God knows I would willingly guard myself--not on my own account, but foryour dear sake. I have now a cause to live and be strong, and to keepall my faculties, since it may mean much to you. If you may not tell me
details, may you not indicate to me some line of conduct, of action, thatwould be most in accord with your wishes--or, rather, with your idea ofwhat would be best?"
She looked at me fixedly before speaking--a long, purposeful, loving lookwhich no man born of woman could misunderstand. Then she spoke slowly,deliberately, emphatically:
"Be bold, and fear not. Be true to yourself, to me--it is the samething. These are the best guards you can use. Your safety does not restwith me. Ah, I wish it did! I wish to God it did!" In my inner heartit thrilled me not merely to hear the expression of her wish, but to hearher use the name of God as she did. I understand now, in the calm ofthis place and with the sunlight before me, that my belief as to herbeing all woman--living woman--was not quite dead: but though at themoment my heart did not recognize the doubt, my brain did. And I made upmy mind that we should not part this time until she knew that I had seenher, and where; but, despite my own thoughts, my outer ears listenedgreedily as she went on.
"As for me, you may not find _me_, but _I_ shall find _you_, be sure!And now we must say 'Good-night,' my dear, my dear! Tell me once againthat you love me, for it is a sweetness that one does not wish toforego--even one who wears such a garment as this--and rests where I mustrest." As she spoke she held up part of her cerements for me to see.What could I do but take her once again in my arms and hold her close,close. God knows it was all in love; but it was passionate love whichsurged through my every vein as I strained her dear body to mine. Butyet this embrace was not selfish; it was not all an expression of my ownpassion. It was based on pity--the pity which is twin-born with truelove. Breathless from our kisses, when presently we released each other,she stood in a glorious rapture, like a white spirit in the moonlight,and as her lovely, starlit eyes seemed to devour me, she spoke in alanguorous ecstasy:
"Oh, how you love me! how you love me! It is worth all I have gonethrough for this, even to wearing this terrible drapery." And again shepointed to her shroud.
Here was my chance to speak of what I knew, and I took it. "I know, Iknow. Moreover, I know that awful resting-place."
I was interrupted, cut short in the midst of my sentence, not by anyword, but by the frightened look in her eyes and the fear-mastered way inwhich she shrank away from me. I suppose in reality she could not bepaler than she looked when the colour-absorbing moonlight fell on her;but on the instant all semblance of living seemed to shrink and fallaway, and she looked with eyes of dread as if in I some awful way held inthrall. But for the movement of the pitiful glance, she would haveseemed of soulless marble, so deadly cold did she look.
The moments that dragged themselves out whilst I waited for her to speakseemed endless. At length her words came in an awed whisper, so faintthat even in that stilly night I could hardly hear it:
"You know--you know my resting-place! How--when was that?" There wasnothing to do now but to speak out the truth:
"I was in the crypt of St. Sava. It was all by accident. I wasexploring all around the Castle, and I went there in my course. I foundthe winding stair in the rock behind the screen, and went down. Dear, Iloved you well before that awful moment, but then, even as the lanternfell tingling on the glass, my love multiplied itself, with pity as afactor." She was silent for a few seconds. When she spoke, there was anew tone in her voice:
"But were you not shocked?"
"Of course I was," I answered on the spur of the moment, and I now thinkwisely. "Shocked is hardly the word. I was horrified beyond anythingthat words can convey that you--_you_ should have to so endure! I didnot like to return, for I feared lest my doing so might set some barrierbetween us. But in due time I did return on another day."
"Well?" Her voice was like sweet music.
"I had another shock that time, worse than before, for you were notthere. Then indeed it was that I knew to myself how dear you were--howdear you are to me. Whilst I live, you--living or dead--shall always bein my heart." She breathed hard. The elation in her eyes made themoutshine the moonlight, but she said no word. I went on:
"My dear, I had come into the crypt full of courage and hope, though Iknew what dreadful sight should sear my eyes once again. But we littleknow what may be in store for us, no matter what we expect. I went outwith a heart like water from that dreadful desolation."
"Oh, how you love me, dear!" Cheered by her words, and even more by hertone, I went on with renewed courage. There was no halting, no falteringin my intention now:
"You and I, my dear, were ordained for each other. I cannot help it thatyou had already suffered before I knew you. It may be that there may befor you still suffering that I may not prevent, endurance that I may notshorten; but what a man can do is yours. Not Hell itself will stop me,if it be possible that I may win through its torments with you in myarms!"
"Will nothing stop you, then?" Her question was breathed as softly asthe strain of an AEolian harp.
"Nothing!" I said, and I heard my own teeth snap together. There wassomething speaking within me stronger than I had ever known myself to be.Again came a query, trembling, quavering, quivering, as though the issuewas of more than life or death:
"Not this?" She held up a corner of the shroud, and as she saw my faceand realized the answer before I spoke, went on: "With all it implies?"
"Not if it were wrought of the cerecloths of the damned!" There was along pause. Her voice was more resolute when she spoke again. It rang.Moreover, there was in it a joyous note, as of one who feels new hope:
"But do you know what men say? Some of them, that I am dead and buried;others, that I am not only dead and buried, but that I am one of thoseunhappy beings that may not die the common death of man. Who live on afearful life-in-death, whereby they are harmful to all. Those unhappyUn-dead whom men call Vampires--who live on the blood of the living, andbring eternal damnation as well as death with the poison of theirdreadful kisses!
"I know what men say sometimes," I answered. "But I know also what myown heart says; and I rather choose to obey its calling than all thevoices of the living or the dead. Come what may, I am pledged to you.If it be that your old life has to be rewon for you out of the very jawsof Death and Hell, I shall keep the faith I have pledged, and that here Ipledge again!" As I finished speaking I sank on my knees at her feet,and, putting my arms round her, drew her close to me. Her tears raineddown on my face as she stroked my hair with her soft, strong hand andwhispered to me:
"This is indeed to be one. What more holy marriage can God give to anyof His creatures?" We were both silent for a time.
I think I was the first to recover my senses. That I did so was manifestby my asking her: "When may we meet again?"--a thing I had neverremembered doing at any of our former partings. She answered with arising and falling of the voice that was just above a whisper, as softand cooing as the voice of a pigeon:
"That will be soon--as soon as I can manage it, be sure. My dear, mydear!" The last four words of endearment she spoke in a low butprolonged and piercing tone which made me thrill with delight.
"Give me some token," I said, "that I may have always close to me to easemy aching heart till we meet again, and ever after, for love's sake!"Her mind seemed to leap to understanding, and with a purpose all her own.Stooping for an instant, she tore off with swift, strong fingers afragment of her shroud. This, having kissed it, she handed to me,whispering:
"It is time that we part. You must leave me now. Take this, and keep itfor ever. I shall be less unhappy in my terrible loneliness whilst itlasts if I know that this my gift, which for good or ill is a part of meas you know me, is close to you. It may be, my very dear, that some dayyou may be glad and even proud of this hour, as I am." She kissed me asI took it.
"For life or death, I care not which, so long as I am with you!" I said,as I moved off. Descending the Jacob's ladder, I made my way down therock-hewn passage.
The last thing I saw was the beautiful face of my Lady of the Shroud asshe leaned over th
e edge of the opening. Her eyes were like glowingstars as her looks followed me. That look shall never fade from mymemory.
After a few agitating moments of thought I half mechanically took my waydown to the garden. Opening the grille, I entered my lonely room, whichlooked all the more lonely for the memory of the rapturous moments underthe Flagstaff. I went to bed as one in a dream. There I lay tillsunrise--awake and thinking.