The Unknown Sea Part 31

She forced a laugh, but it went wild, strangled, and fell broken. Again she fled back into the dark, and, like a prisoned bird, circled frantic for the sea that she could not reach. Far from Christian, she halted and panted low: 'Not yet have I failed, dear sea. Though love may not prevail, nor hate, yet shall my song.'

Though the incoming tide sounded near, echo still carried the tolling of the bells. For the knell of that pa.s.sing soul fittest names they bore out of all the Communion of Saints. St. Mary! bitter dregs had his life to drain; St. Margaret! his pearl of the sea was lost in deep waters; St.

Faith! utter darkness was about, and desperate striving could find no light of Heaven; his life, his love, his G.o.d forsook, rejected, disowned him.

Loss or fear could not touch him any more, for not one hope, one joy remained. From the cruel havoc, calm, pa.s.sionless wonder distilled, and new proportions rose as his past came before him to be measured anew: so tolerable looked the worst of inflictions, a pa.s.sing wrong, forgivable, forgettable; so sorry looked the best endurance, a wretched contortion, defacing, deforming. Against Diadyomene not one throb of pa.s.sion stirred: she had broken his heart outright, so that it had not true faculty of life for any new growth. Strangely, to his wonder, under this her doing, the old derangement pa.s.sed away, and the way of loving-kindness to all men showed clear. Too late! Never in this life could he meet his fellows with good, quiet blood, and frank eyes, and wholesome laughter, unafraid, simply acknowledging all records, free, candid, scrutable.

He began even before death to resolve to impersonality; he surveyed the perverse obstinacy of vitality that would not quit its old habitation, though fierce pain was in possession; and he could wonder at the wretched body heaving, tortured by a double thirst for air, for water, when so short a time would render it mere quiet earth, soon to unshape.

Out of the darkness rang her voice, noting beauty wordless, and sunlit seas glanced through the nights: the magic of the sea was upon him.

Brief sweetness! the bright sound faltered, broke. O blackness and pain!

The far, slow knell struck in.

Again, up welled the buoyant voice, poised and floated exquisitely, mounted and shrilled frantically sweet, caught up the failing senses from the death sweats, and launched them on a magic flood of emotion, through racing sprays, and winds vivid and strong of the brine.

Gone, ah! gone; for a wailing cry came, and then thwart silence suddenly, and flung him back to the dominion of black anguish.

And again and again, high-noted, above the tramp of the nearing tide, that perfect voice flew to delicious melody; and promise of words strengthened the enchantment; and yet, and yet, a cry and a silence stabbed and bled the spell she would fashion.

Perfect achievement came. Up rose a measure transcending in rapture all forgone, and flawless, unfaltering, consummate, leaped on and on, rhythm by rhythm, clear-syllabled for conquest.

'Where silver shallows hold back the sea, Under the bend of the great land's knee, And the gleaming gulls go nestled and free.

Where the tide runs down in the round of the bay, There in the rings where the mermen play, On ribs and shallows their footprints lay.

In liquid speech they laughed and sung, Under the rocks, till the rout outswung, Called from the echoing cave its tongue.

They were away with the glimmering seas: Off with the twilight, off with the breeze, Wave-weeds fell from their glancing knees;

Robes laid by, which the hollowed spars Held and hid, while the wet sand-bars Failed of the sunlight and filled with stars.

Sea-mists rose for a dream, but when Mists wore faint in the sunlight, then Lo, the sea with its dancing men.

Spume and swirl spun under their feet; Sparkle and flash, for the runners were fleet; Over them climbed the day to its heat.

And the day drew a draught of the tide-winds strong, As a singer the breath to be rendered song, As a child the life that will last so long.'

Christian had fallen p.r.o.ne.

While she sang, so potent was the magic, he l.u.s.ted to live. Sentient only to the desires she kindled, out of account lay the dead heart, and the broken strength, and the body so shattered within and without, that wonder was it yet could hold a man's life. Pain was excluded by a great sensual joy of living.

Her song manned the mirage of her delight, and straightway he was pa.s.sionate for life. Never before had she acknowledged the sea-fellowship to occasion the ravenous ache of jealousy. She sang of the mermen, and they rose before him visionary at the spell, with vigorous hair and frolic eyes, very men, lithe and sinewy for the chase and capture of their feminine fairest in amorous play. Life was one fire burning for the hot war of nature's males, as through the riot, whirling with the song, he eyed challenge and promise of a splendid wrestle with strong, hard limbs; and the liquid, exquisite voice was a call to him to speed in and win, nor suffer the wanton sea-brood to prevail.

It was then that his body fell, face forward, never to rise again.

On sang Diadyomene, not knowing that a power stronger than her magic, stronger than his will, kept him from her feet. On she sang, herself possessed, uttering not with her own will more than magic. What alien element underlay the spell she would deliver? what lurking revelation to be dreaded, to be desired, hid beneath? Her voice was caught back again, and yet again, to repeat the finish:

'As a singer the breath to be rendered song, As a child the life that will last so long-- As a child----'

Then bell notes fell in a chime. She lifted her head; they rang, she hearkened, motionless, wordless.

It was midnight, and joy for the birth of Christ thrilled the world. No spell could hold. Christian must resume the throes of death.

The cold and the tide were merciful to shorten. His limbs were stone-cold and dead already, past motion, past pain. Against his side the foremost lap of the tide told. It licked and bit along his body, flanks, breast, throat, touched his cheek. Astray against his face he felt the thread of rowan. It kissed along cheek, along brow, and swung wide and away.

'Christ, Christ, ah! Christ.'

He turned his head and drank of the brine, and drank and drank to slake the rage of thirst. The drawing of breath made hindrance: not for long.

The last draughts he took were somewhat sharp and painful, but they quenched his thirst. He was entirely satisfied.

'We beseech, we beseech, we beseech: Lord G.o.d for my unbaptized! Dear Christ for Christian's Diadyomene! Blessed Trinity and all Saints for a nameless soul in sore need!'

CHAPTER XVI

Through all creation went the divine breath of renunciation. Joy for the birth of Christ rang on; and motionless, wordless, Diadyomene hearkened, released from the magic of the sea.

Dawned a vision remote, but strangely distinct, of a small life comprehending two dear figures--one most dear; and thereto a small, beautiful pain responded. A tale flashed across and across, gaining coherence, giving it: the tale of a loved and lost child, long years ago lost to the sea; loved still. Perfect grew the interweaving; the substance of the two became one.

Joy for the birth of Christ was abroad, thrilling all planes of existence with the divine breath of renunciation. In the soul of Diadyomene, waked from its long trance, love was alive; a finite, individual love, chief centred on one dearest to remembrance. The beautiful pain grew large, and the cold heart that the sea-life had filled and satisfied was yearning for share in another life long forgone. A small divine instinct, following ignorantly in the wake of that great celestial love that hundreds of years ago stooped to the sorrow of life, urged her to renounce the ample strengths and joys of the sea, and to satisfy a piteous want, were it by repression of energies, by eschewing full flavours of sense, by the draining of her young life. The soul of true womanhood in this child for the cherishing of her mother's waxed mature.

Motionless, wordless, she hearkened while separate bells cadenced; when again they fell to their wonted unison, the sea-bred woman knew that a soul was hers, and that it claimed dominion.

'We beseech, we beseech, we beseech: Lord G.o.d for my unbaptized! Dear Christ for Christian's Diadyomene! Blessed Trinity and all Saints for a nameless soul in sore need!'

Diadyomene flung out vacant arms, and moaned a dear name, for years unuttered. Across the long interval of sea-life her spirit leaned to own the filial heart of childhood. Clear to her as yesterday came back that broken fragment of earlier life,--bright, partial, inadequate, quaintly minute, as impression had gone into a happy, foolish infant. Not a memory had traversed the ground since to blur a detail, though now the adult faculties could apprehend distortion, the beautiful vagarious distortion that can live in a brain over toddling feet.

Recent song caught colour; reflected it.

'As a woman the breath to be rendered song, As a child the life that will last so long.'

From deep roots under dense forgetfulness, the song had drawn up truth to blossom in perfect form. Before the eager wonder of the child, the sea had revealed its secret of men shapes, who had beckoned, and laughed, and tempted her with promise and play, till she stretched out her arms to their glee, till she ran in their circles, till, breathless, she thirsted and drank of their offering, and so pa.s.sed.

So tempered was her cold sea body that no ice-wind ever started a shiver.

Now one came, for the mother might not recognise her child, for the child might be grown unworthy of her mother's love.

There was one to succour: Christian. What had she done? There was one to blast her, too foul for any love: Christian.

Her hideous doings rushed back upon her with conviction of guilt; an old sense revived; she shrank and cowered, bowed to the ground by an agony of shame.

Lo! the moon bared her face and looked.

Diadyomene rose to her knees; with a steady will she rose to her feet and went to suffer her full penalties.

Her portion of shame was dreadful to bear; her bold avowal of love for Christian, her atrocious wording of hate intervolved to double disgrace.