Phroso Part 52

'And some most--most what, Phroso? One thing that has happened to me has, I think, happened also to the lady who waited.'

Phroso's hand--the one I had not taken--was suddenly stretched out, and she spoke in a voice that sounded half-stifled:

'Tell me, my lord, tell me. I can't endure it longer.'

Then I grew grave and said:

'I am free. She has given me my freedom.'

'She has set you free?'

'She loves me no longer, I suppose, if she ever did.'

'Oh, but, my lord, it is impossible.'

'Should you think it so? Phroso, it is true--true that I can come to you now.'

She understood at last. For a moment she was silent, and I, silent also, pierced through the darkness to her wondering face. Once she stretched out her arms; then there came a little, long, low laugh, and she put her hands together, and thrust them, thus clasped, between mine that closed on them.

'My lord, my lord, my lord!' said Phroso.

Suddenly I heard a low mournful chant coming up from the harbour, the moan of mourning voices. The sound struck across the stillness which had followed her last words.

'What's that?' I asked. 'What are they doing down there?'

'Didn't you know?' The bodies of my cousin and of Kortes came forth at sunset from the secret pool into which they fell: and they bring them now to bury them by the church. They mourn Kortes because they loved him; and Constantine also they feign to mourn, because he was of the house of the Stefanopouloi.'

We stood for some minutes listening to the chant that rose and fell and echoed among the hills. Its sad cadences, mingled here and there with the note of sustained hope, seemed a fitting end to the story, to the stormy days that were rounded off at last by peace and joy to us who lived, and by the embraces of the all-hiding all-pardoning earth for those who had fallen. I put my arm round Phroso, and, thus at last together, we listened till the sounds died away in low echoes, and silence fell again on the island.

'Ah, the dear island!' said Phroso softly. 'You won't take me away from it for ever? It is my lord's island now, and it will be faithful to him, even as I myself; for G.o.d has been very good, and my lord is very good.'

I looked at her. Her cheeks were again wet with tears. As I watched a drop fell from her eyes. I said to her softly:

'That shall be the last, Phroso, till we part again.'

A loud cough from the front of the house interrupted us. I advanced, beckoning to Phroso to follow, and wearing, I am afraid, the apologetic look usual under such circ.u.mstances. And I found Denny and the captain.

'Are you coming down to the yacht, Charley?' asked Denny.

'Er--in a few minutes, Denny.'

'Shall I wait for you?'

'Oh, I think I can find my way.'

Denny laughed and caught me by the hand; then he pa.s.sed on to Phroso.

I do not, however, know what he said to her, for at this moment the captain touched my shoulder and demanded my attention.

'I beg your pardon,' said he, 'but you never told me the meaning of that word.'

'What word, my dear captain?'

'Why, the word you used of the lady's letter--of what she had done.'

'Oh, you mean "jilted"?'

'Yes; that's it.'

'It is,' said I, after a moment's reflection, 'a word of very various meanings.'

'Ah,' said the captain, with a comprehending nod.

'Yes, very various. In one sense it means to make a man miserable.'

'Yes, I see; to make him unhappy.'

'And in another to make him--to make him, captain, the luckiest beggar alive.'

'It's a strange word,' observed the captain meditatively.

'I don't know about that,' said I. 'Good-night.'

CHAPTER XXII

ONE MORE RUN

The next morning came bright and beautiful, with a pleasant fresh breeze. It was just the day for a run in the yacht. So I thought when I mounted on deck at eight o'clock in the morning. Watkins was there, staring meditatively at the harbour and the street beyond. Perceiving me, he touched his hat and observed:

'It's a queer little place, my lord.'

My eyes followed the direction of Watkins's, and I gave a slight sigh.

'Do you think the island is going to be quiet now, Watkins?' I asked.

I do not think that he quite understood my question, for he said that the weather looked like being fine. I had not meant the weather; my sigh was paid to the ending of Neopalia's exciting caprices; for, though the end was prosperous, I was a little sorry that we had come to the end.

'The Lady Phroso will come on board about ten, and we'll go for a little run,' I said. 'Just look after some lunch.'

'Everything will be ready for your lordship and her ladyship,' said Watkins. Hitherto he had been rather doubtful about Phroso's claim to n.o.bility, but the news of last night planted her firmly in the status of 'ladyship.' 'Has your lordship heard,' he continued, 'that the launch is to carry the Governor's body to Constantinople? There she is by the gunboat.'

'Oh, yes, I see. They seem to be giving the gunboat a rub down, Watkins.'

'Not before it was necessary, my lord. A dirtier deck I never saw.'