The Maroon Part 45

"Miss Vaughan!" said he, endeavouring to conceal the emotion which, however, his trembling voice betrayed, "I fear our presence here will be considered an intrusion? I would have retired, but that my companion willed it otherwise."

"_Miss_ Vaughan!" mentally repeated the young creole, as the phrase fell strangely upon her ear, prompting her, perhaps, to a very different rejoinder from that she would otherwise have made.

"Since you could not follow your _own_ inclination, perhaps it was wiser for you to remain. Your presence here, so far as I am concerned, is no intrusion, I a.s.sure you. As for _my_ companion, he appears satisfied enough, does he not?"

The rapid exchange of words, with an occasional cachinnation, heard from the other side of the rock, told that a gay conversation was going on between Smythje and the Jewess.

"I regret that our arrival should have led even to your temporary separation. Shall I take Mr Smythje's place and permit him to rejoin you?"

The reply was calculated to widen the breach between the two cousins.

It was indebted for its character to the interpretation which Herbert had placed upon Kate's last interrogatory.

"Certainly, if it would be more agreeable to you to do so," retorted Kate, in a tone of defiant bitterness.

Here a pause occurred in the conversation, which from the first had been carried on defiance against defiance. It was Herbert's turn to speak; but the challenge conveyed in Kate's last words placed him in a position where it was not easy to make an appropriate rejoinder, and he remained silent.

It was now the crisis of the eclipse--the moment of deepest darkness.

The sun's disc had become completely obscured by the opaque orb of the night, and the earth lay lurid under the sombre shadow. Stars appeared in the sky, to show that the universe still existed; and those voices of the forest heard only in nocturnal hours, came pealing up to the summit of the rock--a testimony that terrestrial nature was not yet extinct.

It was equally a crisis between two loving hearts. Though standing near, those wild words had outlawed them from each other, far more than if ten thousand miles extended between them. The darkness without was naught to the darkness within. In the sky there were stars to delight the eye; from the forest came sounds to solace the soul; but no star illumined the horizon of their hearts with its ray of hope--no sound of joy cheered the silent gloom that bitterly embraced them.

For some minutes not a word was exchanged between the cousins, nor spoken either to those who were their sharers in the spectacle. These, too, were silent. The solemnity of the scene had made its impression upon all; and, against the dark background of the sky, the figures of all four appeared in sombre _silhouette_--motionless as the rock on which they stood.

Thus for some minutes stood Herbert and Kate without exchanging word or thought. Side by side they were, so near and so silent, that each might have heard the breathing of the other.

The situation was one of painful embarra.s.sment, and might have been still more so, but for the eclipse; which, just then complete, shrouded both in the deep obscurity of its shadow, and hindered them from observing one another.

Only for a short while did the darkness continue; the eclipse soon re-a.s.suming the character of a penumbra.

One by one the stars disappeared from the canopy of the sky--now hastening to recover its azure hue. The creatures of darkness, wondering at the premature return of day, sank cowering into a terrified silence; and the G.o.d of the heavens, coming forth triumphantly from the cloud that had for a short while concealed him, once more poured his joyous effulgence upon the earth.

The re-dawning of the light showed the cousins still standing in the same relative position--unchanged even as to their att.i.tudes.

During the interval of darkness Herbert had neither stirred nor spoken; and after the harsh rejoinder to which, in the bitterness of her pique, the young Creole had given words, it was not her place to continue the conversation.

Pained though Herbert was by his cousin's reply, he nevertheless remembered his indebtedness to her--the vows he had made--the proud proffer at parting. Was he now to repudiate the debt of grat.i.tude and prove faithless to his promise? Was he to pluck from his breast that silken _souvenir_, still sheltering there, though in secret and unseen?

True, it was but the memorial of an act of friendship--of mere cousinly kindness. He had never had reason to regard it in any other light; and now, more than ever, was he sure it had no higher signification.

She had never said she loved him--never said a word that could give him the right to reproach her. On her side there was no repudiation, since there had been no compromise. It was unjust to condemn her--cruel to defy her, as he had done.

That she loved another--was that a crime?

Herbert now knew that she loved another--was as sure of it as that he stood upon the Jumbe Rock. That interrupted _tableau_ had left him no loop to hang a doubt on. The relative position of the parties proclaimed the purpose--a proposal.

The kneeling lover may not have obtained his answer; but who could doubt what that answer was to have been? The situation itself proclaimed consent.

Bitter as were these reflections, Herbert made an effort to subdue them.

He resolved, if possible, to stifle his spleen; and, upon the ruin of his hopes, restore that relationship--the only one that could now exist between himself and his cousin--friendship.

With a superhuman effort he succeeded; and this triumph of virtue over spite, backed by the strongest inclinings of the heart, for a moment solaced his spirit, and rendered it calmer.

Alas! that such triumph can be only temporary. The struggle upon which he was entering was one in which no man has ever succeeded. Love undenied, may end in friendship; but love thwarted or unreciprocated, never!

"Now, where the swift Rhone cleaves its way between Heights, that appear as lovers who have parted In hate, whose mining depths so intervene, That they can meet no more, though broken-hearted; Though in their souls, which thus each other thwarted, Love was the very root of the fond rage Which blighted their life's bloom--"

Herbert Vaughan was perhaps too young--too inexperienced in the affairs of the heart--to have ever realised the sentiment so expressed; else would he have desisted from his idle attempt, and surrendered himself at once to the despair that was certain to succeed it.

Innocent--perhaps happily so--of the knowledge of these recondite truths, he yielded to the n.o.bler resolve--ignorant of the utter impracticability of its execution.

Volume Two, Chapter XV.

AN ENCOUNTER OF EYES.

While Herbert Vaughan was making these reflections, the light began to re-dawn--gradually, as it were, raising the veil from the face of his cousin. He could not resist turning to gaze upon it. During the interval of the obscurity, a change had pa.s.sed over the countenance of the young girl, both in its hue and expression. Herbert noticed the change. It even startled him. Before, and during the unhappy dialogue, he had looked upon a flushed cheek, a fiery eye, an air proud and haughty, with all the indices of defiant indifference.

All were gone: Kate's eye still sparkled, but with a milder light; a uniform pallor overspread her cheeks, as if the eclipse had robbed them of their roses; and the proud expression had entirely disappeared, replaced by one of sadness, or rather of pain.

Withal, the face was lovely as ever--lovelier, thought Herbert.

Why that sudden transformation? What had caused it? Whence sprang that painful thought, that was betraying itself in the pale cheek and lips compressed and quivering? Was it the happiness of another that was making that misery? Smythje seemed happy--very happy, to judge from his oft-repeated "Haw! haw!"

Was this the cause of that expression of extreme sadness that displayed itself on the countenance of his cousin?

So did Herbert interpret it.

Making a fresh effort to subdue within himself the same spirit which he believed to be actuating her, he remained silent--though unable to withdraw his glance from that lorn but lovely face.

While still gazing upon it, a sigh escaped him. It could scarce have been heard by her who stood nearest; nor hers by him: for she had also sighed, and at the same instant of time! Perhaps both were moved by some secret sympathetic instinct?

Herbert had succeeded in obtaining another momentary triumph over his emotions: and was once more on the eve of uttering words of friendship, when the young girl looked up and reciprocated his gaze. It was the first time during the interview their eyes had met: for up to that moment Kate had only regarded her cousin with furtive glances.

For some seconds they stood face to face--each gazing into the eyes of the other, as if both were the victims of some irresistible fascination.

Not a word pa.s.sed between them--their very breathing was stilled. Both seemed to consider the time too important for speech: for they were seeking in one another's eyes--those faithful mirrors of the soul--those truest interpreters of the heart--the solution of that, the most interesting enigma of their existence.

This silent interrogation was instinctive as mutual--uncorrupted by a shadow of coquetry. It was bold and reckless as innocence itself-- unregarding outward observation. What cared they for the eclipse? What for the sun or the moon, or the waning stars? What for the universe itself? Less--far less for those human forms that chanced to be so near them!

Drew they gratification from that mutual gaze? They must--else why did they continue it?

Not for long: not for long were they allowed. An eye was upon them--the eye of that beautiful demon.

Ah! fair Judith, thy flirtation has proved a failure! The _ruse_ has recoiled upon thyself!

The golden sunlight once more fell upon the Jumbe Rock, revealing the forms of four individuals--all youthful--all in love, though two only were beloved!

The returning light brought no joy to Judith Jessuron.