One Day Part 11

Soon the pa.s.sion and charm of the poem cast its spell over them both as they followed the fate of the unhappy lovers through the heart-ache of their evanescent dream.

Their eyes met with a quick thrill of understanding.

"It is--Fate, again," Paul whispered. "Read on, Opal!"

She read and again they looked, and again they understood.

"I cannot read any more of it," she faltered, a real fear in her voice.

"Let us put it away."

"No, no!" he pleaded. "It's true--too true. Read on, please, dear!"

"I cannot, Paul. It is too sad!"

"Then let me read it, Opal, and you can listen!"

And he took the book gently from her hand, and read until the sun was smiling its farewell to the laughing waters.

That evening a strong wind was playing havoc with the waves, and the fury of the maddened spray was beating a fierce accompaniment to their hearts.

"How I love the wind," said Opal. "More than all else in Nature I love it, I think, whatever its mood may be. I never knew why--probably because I, too, am capricious and full of changing moods. If it is tender and caressing, I respond to its appeal; if it is boisterous and wild, I grow reckless and rash in sympathy; and when it is fierce and pa.s.sionate, I feel my blood rush within me. I am certainly a child of the wind!"

"Let us hope you will never experience a cyclone," said the Count, drily. "It might be disastrous!"

"True, it might," said Opal, and she did not smile. "I echo your kind hope, Count de Roannes."

And the Boy looked, and listened, and loved!

CHAPTER X

As they left the dinner-table, Opal pa.s.sed the Boy on her way to her stateroom, and laying her hand upon his arm, looked up into his face appealingly. He wondered how any man could resist her.

"Let's put the book away, Paul, and never look at it again!"

"Will you be good to me if I do?" he demanded.

She considered a moment. "How?" she asked, finally.

"Come out for just a few moments under the stars, and say good-night."

"The idea! I can say good-night here and now!" She hesitated.

"Please, Opal! I seldom see you alone--really alone--and this is our last night, you know. To-morrow we shall part--perhaps forever--who knows? Can you be so cruel as to refuse this one request. Please come!"

His eyes were wooing, her heart fluttering in response.

"Well--perhaps!" she said.

"Perhaps?" he echoed, with a smile, then added, teasingly, "Are you afraid?"

"Afraid?--I dare anything--to-night!"

"Then come!"

"I will--if I feel like this when the time comes. But," and she gave him a tantalizing glance from under her long lashes, "don't expect me!"

Paul tried to look disappointed, but he felt sure that she would come.

And she did! But not till he had given up all hope, and was pacing the deck in an agony of impatience. He had felt so certain that he knew his beloved! She came, swiftly, silently, almost before he was aware.

"Well, ... I'm here," she said.

"I see you are, Opal and--thank you."

He extended his hand, but she clasped hers behind her back and looked at him defiantly. Truly she was in a most perverse mood!

"Aren't we haughty!" he laughed.

"No, I'm not; I am--angry!"

"With me?"

"No!--not you."

"Whom, then?"

"With--myself!" And she stamped her tiny foot imperiously.

Paul was delighted. "Poor child," he said. "What have you done that you are so sorry?"

"I'm not sorry! That's why I'm angry! If I were only a bit sorry, I'd have some self-respect!"

Paul looked at her deliberately, taking in every little detail of her appearance, his eyes full of admiration. Then he added, with an air of finality, "But _I_ respect you!"

She softened, and laid her hand on his arm. Paul instantly took possession of it.

"Do you really?" she asked, searching his face, almost wistfully. "A girl who will do ...what I am doing to-night!"

"But what _are_ you doing, Opal?" he asked in the most innocent surprise. "Merely keeping a wakeful man company beneath the stars!"

"Is that ...all?"

"All ..._now!_"