Looking over the stone towards the castle whence must come her signal Iwaited with an anxiety which I could not conceal from myself. The greydawn grew paler and paler as I looked, and the sky began to quicken.Here and there around me came every now and again the solitary pipe ofan awakening bird. I could just see the top of the castle, looking bareand cold through the vista between the treetops. In a short time, almostshorter than I could have anticipated, I saw on the roof the flutter ofa white handkerchief. My heart leaped; Marjory was safe. I waved my ownhandkerchief; she answered again, and there was no more sign. I cameaway satisfied, and wheeled back to Cruden with what speed I could. Itwas still very early morning, when I reached Whinnyfold. Not a soul wasup as I passed on my way, and I crept in secretly by the back of thehouse.
When I looked carefully out of a window in front, I could see in thegrowing light of morning that Gormala still lay on the edge of thecliff, motionless and manifestly asleep.
I lay down for a while and dozed till the morning was sufficientlyadvanced. Then after a cold bath and a cup of hot tea, took my way toCrom, timing myself so as to arrive for an early breakfast.
Mrs. Jack met me, beaming. She was so hearty, and so manifestly glad tosee me, that I bent over and kissed her. She was not a bit displeased;she seemed a little touched by the act, and smiled at me. Then Marjorycame in, looking radiant. She greeted me with a smile, and went over toand kissed Mrs. Jack affectionately. Then she kissed me too, and therewas a glad look in her eyes which made my heart thrill.
After breakfast she sat in the window with Mrs. Jack, and I went to thefireplace to light a cigarette. I stood with my back to the fire andlooked over at Marjory; it was always a joy to me when she was in mysight. Presently she said to Mrs. Jack:
"Weren't you frightened when I didn't come back the night before last?"The elderly lady smiled complacently as she answered:
"Not a bit, my dear!" Marjory was astonished into an exclamation:
"Why not?" The affectionate old woman looked at her gravely andtenderly:
"Because I knew you were with your husband; the safest place where ayoung woman can be. And oh! my dear, I was rejoiced that it was so; forI was beginning to be anxious, and almost unhappy about you. It didn'tseem right or natural for two young people like you and your husband tobe living, one in one place and one in another." As she spoke she tookMarjory's hand in hers and stroked it lovingly. Marjory turned herhead away from her, and, after one swift glance at me from under hereyelashes, from me also. Mrs. Jack went on in a grave, sweet way,lecturing the girl she loved and that she had mothered; not as a womanlectures a child but as an old woman advises her junior:
"For oh! Marjory, my dear one, when a woman takes a husband she givesup herself. It is right that she should; and it is better too, for uswomen. How can we look after our mankind, if we're thinking of ourselvesall the time! And they want a lot of looking after too, let me tell you.They're only men after all--the dears! Your bringing-up, my child, hasnot made you need them. But you would well understand it, if when youwas a child, you was out on the plains and among the mountains, like Iwas; if you didn't know when you saw your daddy, or your brother, oryour husband go out in the morning whether you'd ever see him come backat night, or would see him brought back. And then, when the work wasover, or the fight or whatever it might be, to see them come home alldirty and ragged and hungry, and may be sick or wounded--for the Indiansmade a lot of harm in my time with their good old bows and their bad newguns--where would we women and girls have been. Or what sort of womenat all at all, if we didn't have things ready for them! My dear, as Isuppose you know now, a man is a mighty good sort of a thing after all.He may be cross, or masterful, or ugly to deal with when he has got hisshirt out; but after all he's a man, and that's what we love them for.I was beginning to wonder if you was a girl at all, when I see you letyour husband go away from you day after day and you not either holdin'him back, or goin' off with him, way the girls did in my time. I tellyou it would have been a queer kind of girl in Arizony that'd have lether man go like that, when once they had said the word together. Why, mydear, I lay awake half the night sayin' my prayers for the both of you,and blessin' God that He had sent you such a happiness as true love;when there might have been them that would have ben runnin' after yourfortun' and gettin' on your weak side enough to throw dust in your eyes.And when in the grey of the dawn I looked into your room and found youhadn't come, why I just tip-toed back to my bed and went to sleep happy.And I was happy all day, knowin' you were happy too. And last night Ijust went to sleep at once and didn't bother my head about listenin' foryour comin'; for well I knew you wouldn't be home then. Ah! my dear,you've done the right thing. At the least, your husband's wishes is asmuch as your own, seein' as how there's two of you. But a woman onlylearns her true happiness when she gives up all her own wishes, andthinks only for her husband. And, mind you, child, it isn't givin' upmuch after all--at least we didn't think
so in my time--when she pleasesher husband that she loves, by goin' off to share his home."
I listened full of deep emotion as the old lady spoke. I felt that everyword she said was crystallised truth; and there was no questioning thedeep, earnest, loving-kindness of her intent. I was half afraid to lookat Marjory lest I should disconcert her; so I turned round quietly tillI faced the fireplace, and leaning on the plinth of it stole a glance inthe old oval mirror above. Marjory sat there with her hand in Mrs.Jack's. Her head was bent, and there was a flush on her neck and armswhich told its own story. I felt that she was silently crying, or verynear it; and a lump rose in my own throat. This was one of the crises inher life. It was so borne in upon me; and I knew its truth. We have all,as the Scotch say, to "dree our own weird," this was a battle with herown soul which Marjory must fight alone. The old woman's wise wordssounded a trumpet note of duty. She was face to face with it, and mustjudge for herself. Even with all my love, I could not help her. I stoodsilent, scarcely daring to breathe lest I should disturb or distracther. I tried to efface myself, and for a few minutes did not even lookin the mirror. The old woman too, knew the value of silence, for she satstill; there was not even the rustle of her dress. At last I could hearMarjory's in-drawn breath, and looked in the mirror. Her attitude hadnot changed, except that she had raised her head; I could tell by itsproud poise that she was her own woman again. She still kept her faceaway; and there was the veil of recent tears over her sweet voice as shespoke tenderly:
"Thank you, dear. I am so glad you have spoken to me so freely and solovingly." I could see from the motion of the two hands and her ownwhitening knuckles that she was squeezing her companion's fingers.Then, after a few moments she rose quietly, and, still keeping her headaverted, sailed quietly out of the room in her own graceful manner. Idid not stir; I felt that I could please her best by keeping quiet.
But oh! how my heart went with her in her course.
CHAPTER XXXIX
AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR
I chatted with Mrs. Jack for a few minutes with what nonchalance I couldmuster, for I wanted to cover up Marjory's retreat. I have not thefaintest idea what we talked about; I only know that the dear old ladysat and beamed on me, with her lips pursed up in thought, and went onwith her knitting. She agreed with everything I said, whatever it was.I longed to follow Marjory and comfort her. I could see that she wasdistressed, though I did not know the measure of it. I waited patiently,however, for I knew that she would either come to me, or send me word tojoin her when she wanted me.
She must have come back very quietly, almost tip-toe, for I had notheard a sound when I saw her in the doorway. She was beckoning to me,but in such a manner that Mrs. Jack could not see her. I was about togo quietly, but she held up a warning hand with five fingers outspread;from which I took it that I was to follow in five minutes.
I stole away quietly, priding myself on the fact that Mrs. Jack did notnotice my departure; but on thinking the matter over later, I came tothe conclusion that the quiet old lady knew a good deal more of what wasgoing on round her than appeared on the surface. Her little homily toMarjory on a wife's duty has set me thinking many a time since.
I found Marjory, as I expected, in the Ladies' Room. She was lookingout of the window when I came in. I took her in my arms for an instant,and she laid her head on my shoulder. Then she drew herself away, andpointed to a great chair close by for me to sit down. When I was seatedshe took a little stool, and placing it beside me, sat at my feet. Fromour position I had to look down at her, and she had to look up at me.Often and often since then have I recalled the picture she made, sittingthere in her sweet graceful simplicity. Well may I remember it, forthrough many and many an aching hour has every incident of that day,however trivial, been burned into my brain. Marjory leant one elbowon the arm of my chair, and put the other hand in mine with a sweetconfiding gesture which touched me to the heart. Since our peril of twonights before, she was very, very dear to me. All the selfishness seemedto have disappeared from my affection for her, and I was her true loveras purely as it is given to a man to be. She wanted to speak; I couldsee that it was an effort to do so, for her breast heaved a few times,as a diver breathes before making his downward leap. Then she masteredherself, and with infinite grace and tenderness spoke:
"I'm afraid I have been very selfish and inconsiderate. Oh! yes I have"for I was commencing a protest. "I know it now. Mrs. Jack was quiteright. It never occurred to me what a brute I have been; and you sogood to me, and so patient. Well, dear, that's all over now! I wantto tell you, right here, that if you like I'll go away with youto-morrow--to-day if you wish; and we'll let every one know that we aremarried, and go and live together." She stopped, and we sat hand in handwith our fingers clasping. I remained quite still with a calm thatamazed me, for my brain was in a whirl. But somehow there came to me,even as it had come to her, a sense of duty. How could I accept such asweet sacrifice. The very gravity of her preparation for thought andspeech showed me that she was loth to leave the course on which she hadentered. That she loved me I had no doubt; was it not for me that shewas willing to give it all up. And then my course of action rose clearbefore me. Instinctively I stood up as I spoke to her, and I felt thatbig stalwart man as I was, the pretty self-denying girl at my feet ruledme, for she was more to me than my own wishes, my own hopes, my ownsoul.
"Marjory, do you remember when you sat on the throne in the cave, andgave me the accolade?" She bowed her head in acquiescence; her eyesfell, and her face and ears grew rosy pink. "Well, when you dubbed meyour knight, and I took the vow, I meant all I said! Your touch onmy shoulder was more to me than if it had come from the Queen on herthrone, with all the glory of a thousand years behind her. Oh, my dear,I was in earnest--in earnest then, as I am in earnest now. I was, andam, your true knight! You are my lady; to serve, and make her feet walkin easy ways! It is a terrible temptation to me to take what you haveoffered as done, and walk straightway into Paradise in our new life.But, my dear! my dear! I too can be selfish if I am tempted too far; andI must not think of my own wishes alone. Since I first saw your faceI have dreamt a dream. That a time would come when you, with all theworld to choose from, would come to me of your own free will. When youwouldn't want to look back with regret at anything, done or undone. Iwant you to be happy; to look forward only--unless the backward thoughtis of happiness. Now, if you give up your purpose and come to me withthe feeling that you have only made a choice, the regret that you didnot have the opportunity you longed for, may grow and grow, till--tillit may become an unhappiness. Let me be sententious for a moment.'Remember Lot's wife' was not merely the warning of a fact; it touched agreat allegory. You and I are young; we are both happy; we have all theworld before us, and numberless good things to thank God for. I want youto enjoy them to the full; and, my dear one, I will not stand in yourway in anything which you may wish. Be free, Marjory, be quite free! Thegirl I want beside my hearth is one who would rather be there thananywhere else in the wide world. Isn't that worth wishing for; isn'tit worth waiting for? It may be selfish in the highest plane ofselfishness; I suppose it is. But anyhow, it is my dream; and I love youso truly and so steadfastly that I am not afraid to wait!"
As I spoke, Marjory looked at me lovingly, more and more. Then all atonce she broke down, and began to sob and cry as if her heart wouldbreak. That swept away in a moment all my self-command; I took her in myarms and tried to comfort her. Kisses and sweet words fairly rained uponher. Presently she grew calm, and said as she gently disengaged herself:
"You don't know how well you argue. I'm nearer at this moment to givingup all my plans, than I ever thought I should be in my life. Wait alittle longer, dear. Only a little; the time may be shorter than youthink. But this you may take for your comfort now, and your remembrancelater; that in all my life, whatever may come, I shall never forget yourgoodness to me, your generosity, your love, your sympathy--your--! Butthere, you are indeed my Knight; and I love you with all my heart andsoul!" and she threw herself into my arms.
When I left Crom after lunch the weather seemed to have changed. Therewas a coldness in the air which emphasised the rustling of the dryleaves as they were swept by intermittent puffs of wind. Altogetherthere was a sense of some presage of gloom--or disaster--of discontent,I knew not what. I was loth to part with Marjory, but we both felt itwas necessary I should go. I had not had my letters for three days; andbesides there were a thousand things to be attended to about the houseat Whinnyfold. Moreover, we began to think of the treasure, the portablepart of which--the jewels--was left almost open in the dining room. Idid not want to alarm Marjory by any dim fears of my own; I knew that,in any case, there might be a reaction from her present high spirits.The remembrance of the trials and anxieties of the past few days wouldcome back to her in the silence of the night. She saw, however, with thenew eyes of her wifely love, that I was anxious about something; justlyinferring that it was about her, she said to me quietly:
"You need not be alarmed about me, darling. I promise you I shall notstir out of the house till you come. But you will come as early as youcan to-morrow; won't you. Somehow, I don't like your leaving me now. Iused not to mind it; but to-day it all seems different. We don't seem tobe the same to each other, do we, since we felt that water creep up usin the dark. However, I shall be very good. I have a lot of work to do,and letters to write; and the time may not go so very slowly, or seem sovery long, till I see my husband again."
Oh! it was sweet to look in her eyes, and see the love that shone fromthem; to hear the delicate cooing music of her voice. My heart seemedto fly back to her as I moved away; and every step I took, its stringsseemed nearer and nearer to the breaking point. When I looked back atthe turn of the winding avenue between the fir trees, the last I sawthrough my dimming eyes was the wave of her hand and the shining of hereyes blending into one mass of white light.
In my rooms at the hotel I found a lot
of letters about business, and afew from friends. There was one however which made me think. It was inthe writing of Adams, and was as follows, no place or date being given:
"The people at Crom had better be careful of their servants! There is afootman who often goes out after dark and returns just before morning.He may be in league with enemies. Anyhow, where he gets out and in, andhow, others may do the same. _Verb. sap, suff. A._"