To Win the Love He Sought Part 32

"You would not prefer the yacht?" he asked, turning to me.

"I like this best," I answered. "It is more exciting."

"We'll stick to the skiff, Dyson," Lord Lumley called out.

The man looked doubtful; but while he hesitated, we shot far ahead, so that his voice only reached us faintly.

"There's a heavy sea running, my Lord, and it'll blow great guns before night."

"Are you nervous, Margharita?" he asked tenderly.

"Not in the least," I answered, carelessly wiping the spray from my face. "I like it, and hope it will be rougher."

"Can't say that I do," he laughed. "What a plucky girl you are. Now that we're in a quieter sea, I think that I may venture to come and talk to you."

So he came and sat by my side. It is not my purpose to set down all that pa.s.sed between us that day. There are pages in our lives which we never willingly open; which have for us a peculiar sacredness, and a sweetness which never altogether fades away. There came a sort of abandon upon me, the forerunner of a fit of nervous desperation which well-nigh sent us both, hand in hand, into another world--closed the gates of my memory upon the past, and withdrew my shuddering thoughts from the future, to steep them in the delight of the present. My lover sat by my side, and his words were filling my heart with music. The strong sea breeze blew in our faces, and the salt spray leaped like glittering silver into the sunlight. Over our heads the sea-gulls screamed, and the coast line grew faint in the distance. So we sailed on, hand in hand, heart whispering to heart in the golden silence, till the sun lay low in the west, and our tiny craft pitched and tossed in the trough of the ocean waves.

Then my lover suddenly became conscious of time and place, and he sprang up bewildered.

"A miracle!" he cried. "The sun is low, and it cannot yet be afternoon."

"Flatterer," I laughed, showing him my watch. "It is past five o'clock."

He looked round as he gathered in the sail, and a shade of anxiety crept into his face. Especially he looked with bewildered eyes at the faint blue line where land lay.

"What an idiot I have been," he said, knitting his brows. "Port, Margharita! The left string! That's right! Now, sit firm, and when we go down, lean to the other side. You mustn't mind if you get a little wet.

We are running in the teeth of the wind, and it will be roughish."

It was deliciously exhilarating. The breeze, without our noticing it, had been gradually freshening, and now it was almost a gale. The sky above was mackerel-hued and wind-swept. The sea seemed to be getting rougher every minute. Lord Lumley had to pa.s.s his arm round the frail mast which creaked and bent with the straining of the sail. Once we heeled right over, and were within an ace of being capsized. I only laughed, and the color came into my cheeks. Death would be a sweet and welcome thing, I thought--death here on the ocean, with my lover's arms around me. So I had no fear, and Lord Lumley found time to glance at me admiringly.

"You're the pluckiest woman I ever knew in all my life!" he exclaimed lightly. "Gad! that was a shave! It's no use, dear, we must tack. This is too good to last."

Round we swept, first one way then another, but we made no headway. In an hour's time we were no nearer land, and in the gathering twilight the coast line was dim and blurred. Here and there we could see a few lights burning from the villages along the sh.o.r.e, and away northward the revolving light from Gorton headland shone out like a beacon.

"What will become of us?" I asked softly, for Lord Lumley had ceased his exertions for a moment with a little gesture of despair. His face was very pale, but it might have been from fatigue.

"Nothing very serious. Fortunately the sail is a new one, and very strong. I think it will hold, and while it does, I can keep her in position. We shall be tacking about most of the night, though, I am afraid. It is such a provoking shifty wind. I can't depend upon it for a moment."

"And supposing the sail went?"

"We have the oars. It would be uncommonly hard work, rowing, but it would keep us afloat. It was just a chance that I put them in--a lucky one as it happens."

"Supposing you had forgotten them, and that we had no oars?"

Lord Lumley shook his head.

"Don't add to the horrors," he said, smiling. "I'd rather not suppose anything of the kind. It's bad enough as it is."

"There would be danger, then?"

"Yes."

"In what way?"

He shrugged his shoulders.

"Do you really want to know?"

"Yes, please."

"Well, we should drift out to sea, and the first heavy wave that caught us broadside would probably swamp us. The great thing is, you see, to keep our head to the waves. Are you cold, love?"

I shook my head. I had no thought of it

"Frightened?"

"Not a bit of it. Do I look it?"

"That you don't," he answered, smiling. "You are brave, dearest. I shall never forgive myself for being so careless, though."

I think that it was then that the madness first came to me. I held my hands up to my head, and strove to fight against that frantic impulse.

The air seemed full of voices whispering to me to end by one swift stroke this hideous dilemma into which I had drifted of my own foolish will. It was so simple; so easy a manner of escape. And she, too, would be punished. In a manner, my oath would have been accomplished. What vengeance could be sweeter to the heart of that desolate old man than the death of her son--her only son? It could be done so easily, so secretly. And as for me, should I not die in his arms with his dear face pressed close to mine, his kisses upon my cold lips, and his voice the last to fall upon my ears? What was life to me, a pledged murderess?

Would not such a death be a thousand times better? The wind rushing across the waters seemed to bring mocking whispers to my ears. I seemed to read it in the silent stars, and in the voices of the night. Death, painless and sudden. Death, in my lover's arms. My heart yearned for it.

In the darkness I stretched down my hand, and felt for the oars. My lover's back was turned to me, for he was on his knees in the bows, gazing ahead with strained eyesight. One oar I raised and balanced on the side of the boat. A quick push, and it was gone. The dull splash in the water was lost in the rushing of the wind and the creaking of the ropes. I watched it drift away from us with anxious eyes. It was gone, irrevocably gone.

There was only the sail now. I had not meant to touch that; to leave so much to chance, but the desire for death had grown. I was no longer mistress of myself. A small pocket-knife was lying in the bottom of the boat, and I stooped down cautiously and picked it up. Just as my fingers closed upon it, Lord Lumley looked round. My eyes fell before his, and I trembled, thankful for the darkness.

"Frightened yet, dearest?" he asked tenderly.

I laughed. There was no fear in my heart. If only he had known.

"No! I am not afraid! I am happy!"

He looked at me, wondering. Well he might!

"How your eyes are gleaming, love! After all, I don't think that we need a lantern!"

"A lantern! What use would it have been to us?"

"To warn anything off from running us down. If the sail holds till morning, and I think it will, we shall be all right if we escape collisions."

"Is that what you are fearing?" I asked.

"Yes. I fancy that we must be getting in the track of the coal steamers.

If only the moon would rise! This darkness is our greatest danger! Even if they had a smart lookout man, I am afraid that they would never see us."

He turned round again, and remained gazing with fixed eyes into the darkness. Then I held my breath, and stooping forward, with the penknife in my hand, commenced steadily sawing at the bottom knot which bound the sail to the mast. Directly it parted I cut a great slit in the sail itself.