The Light of Scarthey Part 37

"The man, my dear, whose plots to compromise and entangle a lovely girl you have favoured, is a villain of the deepest dye--a pirate."

"Oh!" shivered Sophia with fascinated misery--thrilling recollections of last night's reading shooting through her frame.

"A smuggler, a criminal, an outlaw in point of fact," pursued Mr.

Landale. "He merely seeks Madeleine for her money--has a wife in every port, no doubt--"

Miss Landale did not swoon; but her brother's watchful eye was satisfied with the effect produced, and he went on in a well modulated tone of suppressed emotion:

"And after breaking her heart, ruining her body and soul, dragging her to the foulest depths he would have cast her away like a dead weed--perhaps murdered her! Sophia, what would your feelings be then?"

A hard red spot had risen to each of Miss Landale's cheek bones; her tears had dried up under the fevered glow.

"We believed," she said trembling in every limb, "that he was working on a mission to the French court--"

"Faugh--" cried Mr. Landale, contemptuously, "smuggling French brandy for our English drunkards and traitorous intelligence for our French enemies!"

"Such a handsome young man, so gentlemanly, such an air!" maundered the miserable woman between her chattering teeth. "It was quite accidental that we met, Rupert, quite accidental, I a.s.sure you.

Madeleine--poor dear girl--came down with me here, I wanted to show her the g-grave----" here Sophia gurgled convulsively, remembering her brother's cruel reproaches.

"Well?"

"She came here with me, and as I was kneeling down, planting crocuses just here, Rupert, and she was standing _there_, a young man suddenly leaped over the wall, and fell at her feet. He had not seen _me_--Alas, it reminded me of my own happiness! And he was so well-dressed, so courteous--and seemed such a perfect gentleman--and he took off his hat so gracefully I am sure I never could have believed it of him. And they confided in me and I promised by--by--those sacred ashes to keep their secret. I remembered of course what Tanty had said in her letter, and quite understood he was the young gentleman in question--but they explained to me how she was under a wrong impression altogether. He said that the instant he laid eyes upon me, he saw I had a feeling heart, and he knew they could trust me. He spoke so n.o.bly, Rupert, and said: What better place could they have for their meetings than one consecrated to such faithful love as this? It was so beautiful--and oh dear! I can't but think there is some mistake." And Miss Landale again wrung her hands.

"But I have proof!" thundered her brother, "convincing proof, of what I have told you. At this very moment the man who would marry Madeleine, forsooth, runs the risk of imprisonment--nay, of the gallows! You may have thought it strange that I should have opened and read letters not addressed to me, but with misfortune hanging over a beloved object I did not pause to consider myself. My only thought was to save her."

Here Mr. Landale looked very magnanimous, and thrust his fingers as he spoke through the upper b.u.t.tons of his waistcoat with the gesture which traditionally accompanies such sentiments: these cheap effects proved generally irresistible with Sophia. But his personality had paled before the tremendous drama into which the poor romance-loving soul was so suddenly plunged, and in which in spite of all her woe she found an awful kind of fascination. Failing to read any depth of admiration in her roving eye, Rupert promptly abandoned grandiloquence, and resuming his usual voice and manner, he dropped his orders upon her heat of agitation like a cool relentless stream under which her last protest fizzed, sputtered, and went out.

"I mean to unmask the gay lover at my own time and in my own way; never fear, I shall deal gently with _her_. You will now take this letter of his and put it in your bag, leaving hers in that curious post-office of yours."

"Yes, Rupert."

"And you will give his letter to her at once when you go in without one word of having met me."

"Y ... yes, Rupert."

"As you are too great a fool to be trusted if you once begin to talk, you will have a headache for the rest of the day and go to bed in a dark room."

"Y ... yes, Rupert."

"You will moreover swear to me, now, that you will not speak of our interview here till I give you leave; say I swear I will not."

"I swear I will not."

"So help me G.o.d!"

"Oh, Rupert."

"_So help me G.o.d_, you fool!"

Sophia's lips murmured an inaudible something; but there was such complete submission in every line and curve of her figure, in the very droop of her ringlets and the helpless appeal of her gaze that Rupert was satisfied. He a.s.sisted her to arise from her tombstone, bundled the clerical love-tokens back into the bag, duly placed Captain Jack's letter in the inner pocket, and was about to present her with his arm to conduct her homewards, when he caught sight of a little ragged urchin peeping through the bars of the gate, and seemingly in the very act of making a mysterious signal in the direction of Miss Landale's unconscious figure.

Rupert stared hard at the ruddy, impudent face, which instantly a.s.sumed an appearance of the most defiant unconcern, while its owner began to devote his energies to shying stones at an invisible rook upon the old church tower with great nicety of aim.

"Sophia," said her brother in a low tone, "go to the gate: that boy wants to speak to you. Go and see what he wants and return to me."

Miss Landale gasped, gazed at her brother as if she thought him mad, looked round at the little boy, coloured violently, then meeting Rupert's eye again staggered off without a word of protest.

Rupert, shaken with silent laughter, humming a little song to himself, stooped to pick a couple of tender spring flowers from the border beside the grave, and after slipping them into a b.u.t.ton-hole of his many caped overcoat, stood looking out over the stretch of land and sea, where Scarthey rose like a dream against the sparkle of the water and the exquisite blue of the sky.

Presently rapid panting breaths and a shuffling rustle of petticoats behind him informed him of his sister's return.

"So you are there, my dear," he said loudly. "One of your little fishing friends from the village, I suppose--a Shearman, unless I am mistaken. Yes, a Shearman; I thought so. Well, shall we return home now? They will be wondering what has become of us. Pray take my arm."

Then beneath his breath, seeing that words were struggling to Sophia's lips, "Hold your tongue."

The small ragged boy watched their departure with a derisive grin, and set off at a brisk canter down to the sh.o.r.e, jingling some silver coin in his pocket with relish as he went.

When Rupert and Sophia had reached the wood the former paused.

"Letter or message?"

"Oh, Rupert, it was a letter; had I not better destroy it?"

"Give it to me."

A hasty scrawl, it seemed, folded anyhow. Only two or three lines, yet Rupert conned them for a curiously long time.

"My darling," it ran, "meet me to-day in the ruins at noon. A misfortune has happened to me, but if you trust me, all will still be well.--Your Jack." Mr. Landale at length handed it back to Sophia.

"You will give it to Madeleine with the other," he said briefly.

"Mention the fact of the messenger having brought it." And then in a terrible ba.s.s he added, "And remember your oath!"

She trembled; but as he walked onwards through the wood, his lips were smiling, and his eyes were alight with triumph.

CHAPTER XXII

THE DAY: MORNING

The appointment of a regular light-keeper at Scarthey, intended to release Rene and old Margery from their exile, had been delayed so as to suit the arrangement which was to leave for a time the island domain of Sir Adrian at the disposal of Captain Jack. Meanwhile Moggie's presence greatly mitigated the severity of her husband's separation from his master.

On his side the sailor was in radiant spirits. All worked as he could wish, and Sir Adrian's marriage, besides being a source of unselfish satisfaction, was, with regard to his own prospects, an unexpected help; for, his expedition concluded, he would now be able in the most natural manner to make his appearance at Pulwick, an honoured guest of the master, under the pride of his own name. And for the rest, hope unfolded warm-coloured visions indeed.

During the weeks which had elapsed since Sir Adrian's departure, Captain Jack's visits to the island had been fitful and more or less secret--He always came and left at night. But as it was understood that the place was his to be used and enjoyed as he thought best, neither his sudden appearances with the usual heavy travelling-bag, nor his long absences excited any disturbance in the arcadian life led by Rene between his buxom young wife and the old mother--as the good-humoured husband now termed the scolding dame.