I stood for a long time on the terrace, sometimes looking into thedarkness in front of me, in case I might be blessed with another glimpseof her; sometimes with my eyes closed, so that I might recall and hold inmy mind her passage down the steps. For the first time since I had mether she had thrown back at me a glance as she stepped on the white pathbelow the terrace. With the glamour over me of that look, which was alllove and enticement, I could have dared all the powers that be.
When the grey dawn was becoming apparent through the lightening of thesky I returned to my room. In a dazed condition--half hypnotized bylove--I went to bed, and in dreams continued to think, all happily, of myLady of the Shroud.
RUPERT'S JOURNAL--_Continued_.
_May_ 27, 1907.
A whole week has gone since I saw my Love! There it is; no doubtwhatever is left in my mind about it now! Since I saw her my passion hasgrown and grown by leaps and bounds, as novelists put it. It has nowbecome so vast as to overwhelm me, to wipe out all thought of doubt ordifficulty. I suppose it must be what men suffered--suffering need notmean pain--under enchantments in old times. I am but as a straw whirledin the resistless eddies of a whirlpool. I feel that I _must_ see heragain, even if it be but in her tomb in the crypt. I must, I suppose,prepare myself for the venture, for many things have to be thought of.The visit must not be at night, for in such case I might miss her, didshe come to me again here . . .
The morning came and went, but my wish and intention still remained; andso in the full tide of noon, with the sun in all its fiery force, I setout for the old church of St. Sava. I carried with me a lantern withpowerful lens. I had wrapped it up secretly, for I had a feeling that Ishould not like anyone to know that I had such a thing with me.
On this occasion I had no misgivings. On the former visit I had for amoment been overwhelmed at the unexpected sight of the body of the womanI thought I loved--I knew it now--lying in her tomb. But now I knew all,and it was to see this woman, though in her tomb, that I came.
When I had lit my lantern, which I did as soon as I had pushed open thegreat door, which was once again unlocked, I turned my steps to the stepsof the crypt, which lay behind the richly carven wood screen. This Icould see, with the better light, was a noble piece of work of pricelessbeauty and worth. I tried to keep my heart in full courage with thoughtsof my Lady, and of the sweetness and dignity of our last meeting; but,despite all, it sank down, down, and turned to water as I passed withuncertain feet down the narrow, tortuous steps. My concern, I am nowconvinced, was not for myself, but that she whom I adored should have toendure such a fearful place. As anodyne to my own pain I thought what itwould be, and how I should feel, when I should have won for her a way outof that horror, at any rate. This thought reassured me somewhat, andrestored my courage. It was in something of the same fashion which hashitherto carried me out of tight places as well as into them that at lastI pushed open the low, narrow door at the foot of the rock-hewn staircaseand entered the crypt.
Without delay I made my way to the glass-covered tomb set beneath thehanging chain. I could see by the flashing of the light around me thatmy hand which held the lantern trembled. With a great effort I steadiedmyself, and raising the lantern, turned its light down into thesarcophagus.
Once again the fallen lantern rang on the tingling glass, and I stoodalone in the darkness, for an instant almost paralyzed with surpriseddisappointment.
The tomb was empty! Even the trappings of the dead had been removed.
I knew not what happened till I found myself groping my way up thewinding stair. Here, in comparison with the solid darkness of the crypt,it seemed almost light. The dim expanse of the church sent a fewstraggling rays down the vaulted steps, and as I could see, be it neverso dimly, I felt I was not in absolute darkness. With the light came asense of power and fresh courage, and I groped my way back into the cryptagain. There, by now and again lighting matches, I found my way to thetomb and recovered my lantern. Then I took my way slowly--for I wishedto prove, if not my own courage, at least such vestiges of self-respectas the venture had left me--through the church, where I extinguished mylantern, and out through the great door into the open sunlight. I seemedto have heard, both in the darkness of the crypt and through the dimnessof the church, mysterious sounds as of whispers and suppressed breathing;but the memory of these did not count for much when once I was free. Iwas only satisfied of my own consciousness and identity when I foundmyself on the broad rock terrace in front of the church, with the fiercesunlight beating on my upturned face, and, looking downward, saw farbelow me the rippled blue of the open sea.
RUPERT'S JOURNAL--_Continued_.
_June_ 3, 1907.
Another week has elapsed--a week full of movement of many kinds and inmany ways--but as yet I have had no tale or tidings of my Lady of theShroud. I have not had an opportunity of going again in daylight to St.Sava's as I should have liked to have done. I felt that I must not go atnight. The night is her time of freedom, and it must be kept for her--orelse I may miss her, or perhaps never see her again.
The days have been full of national movement. The mountaineers haveevidently been organizing themselves, for some reason which I cannotquite understand, and which they have hesitated to make known to me. Ihave taken care not to manifest any curiosity, whatever I may have felt.This would certainly arouse suspicion, and might ultimately causedisaster to my hopes of aiding the nation in their struggle to preservetheir freedom.
These fierce mountaineers are strangely--almost unduly--suspicious, andthe only way to win their confidence is to begin the trusting. A youngAmerican attache of the Embassy at Vienna, who had made a journey throughthe Land of the Blue Mountains, once put it to me in this form:
"Keep your head shut, and they'll open theirs. If you don't, they'llopen it for you--down to the chine!"
It was quite apparent to me that they were completing some fresharrangements for signalling with a code of their own. This was naturalenough, and in no way inconsistent with the measure of friendlinessalready shown to me. Where there are neither telegraphs, railways, norroads, any effective form of communication must--can only be purelypersonal. And so, if they wish to keep any secret amongst themselves,they must preserve the secret of their code. I should have dearly likedto learn their new code and their manner of using it, but as I want to bea helpful friend to them--and as this implies not only trust, but theappearance of it--I had to school myself to patience.
This attitude so far won their confidence that before we parted at ourlast meeting, after most solemn vows of faith and secrecy, they took meinto the secret. This was, however, only to the extent of teaching methe code and method; they still withheld from me rigidly the fact orpolitical secret, or whatever it was that was the mainspring of theirunited action.
When I got home I wrote down, whilst it was fresh in my memory, all theytold me. This script I studied until I had it so thoroughly by heartthat I _could_ not forget it. Then I burned the paper. However, thereis now one gain at least: with my semaphore I can send through the BlueMountains from side to side, with expedition, secrecy, and exactness, amessage comprehensible to all.
RUPERT'S JOURNAL--_Continued_.
_June_ 6, 1907.
Last night I had a new experience of my Lady of the Shroud--in so far asform was concerned, at any rate. I was in bed, and just falling asleep,when I heard a queer kind of scratching at the glass door of the terrace.I listened acutely, my heart beating hard. The sound seemed to come fromlow down, close to the floor. I jumped out of bed, ran to the window,and, pulling aside the heavy curtains, looked out.
The garden looked, as usual, ghostly in the moonlight, but there was notthe faintest sign of movement anywhere, and no one was on or near theterrace. I looked eagerly down to where the sound had seemed to comefrom.
There, just inside the glass door, as though it had been pushed under thedoor, lay a paper closely folded in several laps. I picked it up andopened it. I was all in a tumult, for my heart told me whence it came.Inside was written in English, in a large, sprawling hand, such as mightbe from an English child of seven or eight:
"Meet me at the Flagstaff on the Rock!"
I knew the place, of course. On the farthermost point of the rock onwhich the Castle stands is set a high flagstaff, whereon in old time thebanner of the Vissarion family flew. At some far-off time, when theCastle had been liable to attack, this point had been strongly fortified.Indeed, in the days when the bow was a martial weapon it must have beenquite impregnable.
A covered gallery, with loopholes for arrows, had been cut in the solidrock, running right round the point, quite surrounding the flagstaff andthe great boss of rock on whose centre it was reared. A narrowdrawbridge of immense strength had connected--in peaceful times, andstill remained--the outer point of rock with an entrance formed in theouter wall, and guarded with flanking towers and a portcullis. Its usewas manifestly to guard against surprise. From this point only could beseen the line of the rocks all round the point. Thus, any secret attackby boats could be made impossible.
Having hurriedly dressed myself, and taking with me both hunting-knifeand revolver, I went out on the terrace, taking the precaution, unusualto me, of drawing the grille behind me and locking it. Matters aroundthe Castle are in far too disturbed a condition to allow the taking ofany foolish chances, either in the way of being unarmed or of leaving theprivate entrance to the Castle open. I found my way through the rockypassage, and climbed by the Jacob's ladder fixed on the rock--a device ofconvenience in time of peace--to the foot of the flagstaff.