by Grant Allen
V
THE ADVENTURE OF THE IMPROMPTU MOUNTAINEER
The explosion and evaporation of Dr. Fortescue-Langley (with whom wereamalgamated the Comte de Laroche-sur-Loiret, Mr. Higginson the courier,and whatever else that versatile gentleman chose to call himself)entailed many results of varying magnitudes.
In the first place, Mrs. Evelegh ordered a Great Manitou. That, however,mattered little to 'the firm,' as I loved to call us (because it shockeddear Elsie so); for, of course, after all her kindness we couldn'taccept our commission on her purchase, so that she got her machine cheapfor L15 from the maker. But, in the second place--I declare I ambeginning to write like a woman of business--she decided to run over toEngland for the summer to see her boy at Portsmouth, being certain nowthat the discoloration of her bangle depended more on the presence ofsulphur in the india-rubber bottle than on the passing state of herastral body. 'Tis an abrupt descent from the inner self to a hot-waterbottle, I admit; but Mrs. Evelegh took the plunge with grace, like asensible woman. Dr. Fortescue-Langley had been annihilated for her atone blow: she returned forthwith to common-sense and England.
'What will you do with the _chalet_ while you're away?' Lady Georginaasked, when she announced her intention. 'You can't shut it up to takecare of itself. Every blessed thing in the place will go to rack andruin. Shutting up a house means spoiling it for ever. Why, I've got acottage of my own that I let for the summer in the best part ofSurrey--a pretty little place, now vacant, for which, by the way, I wanta tenant, if you happen to know of one: and when it's left empty for amonth or two----'
'Perhaps it would do for me?' Mrs. Evelegh suggested, jumping at it.'I'm looking out for a furnished house for the summer, within easy reachof Portsmouth and London, for myself and Oliver.'
Lady Georgina seized her arm, with a face of blank horror. 'My dear,'she cried. 'For you! I wouldn't dream of letting it to you. A nasty,damp, cold, unwholesome house, on stiff clay soil, with detestabledrains, in the deadliest part of the Weald of Surrey,--why, you and yourboy would catch your deaths of rheumatism.'
'Is it the one I saw advertised in the _Times_ this morning, I wonder?'Mrs. Evelegh inquired in a placid voice. '"Charming furnished house onHolmesdale Common; six bedrooms, four reception-rooms; splendid views;pure air; picturesque surroundings; exceptionally situated." I thoughtof writing about it.'
NEVER LEAVE A HOUSE TO THE SERVANTS, MY DEAR!]
'That's it!' Lady Georgina exclaimed, with a demonstrative wave of herhand. 'I drew up the advertisement myself. Exceptionally situated! Ishould just think it was! Why, my dear, I wouldn't let you rent theplace for worlds; a horrid, poky little hole, stuck down in the bottomof a boggy hollow, as damp as Devonshire, with the paper peeling off thewalls, so that I had to take my choice between giving it up myself tenyears ago, or removing to the cemetery; and I've let it ever since toCity men with large families. Nothing would induce me to allow you andyour boy to expose yourself to such risks.' For Lady Georgina had takenquite a fancy to Mrs. Evelegh. 'But what I was just going to say wasthis: you can't shut your house up; it'll all go mouldy. Houses alwaysgo mouldy, shut up in summer. And you can't leave it to your servants;_I_ know the baggages; no conscience--no conscience; they'll ask theirentire families to come and stop with them _en bloc_, and turn yourplace into a perfect piggery. Why, when I went away from my house intown one autumn, didn't I leave a policeman and his wife in charge--amost respectable man--only he happened to be an Irishman. And what wasthe consequence? My dear, I assure you, I came back unexpectedly frompoor dear Kynaston's one day--at a moment's notice--having quarrelledwith him over Home Rule or Education or something--poor dear Kynaston'swhat they call a Liberal, I believe--got at by that man Rosebery--andthere didn't I find all the O'Flanagans, and O'Flahertys, and O'Flynnsin the neighbourhood camping out in my drawing-room; with a strongdetachment of O'Donohues, and O'Dohertys, and O'Driscolls lying aroundloose in possession of the library? Never leave a house to the servants,my dear! It's positively suicidal. Put in a responsible caretaker ofwhom you know something--like Lois here, for instance.'
'Lois!' Mrs. Evelegh echoed. 'Dear me, that's just the very thing. Whata capital idea! I never thought of Lois! She and Elsie might stop onhere, with Ursula and the gardener.'
I protested that if we did it was our clear duty to pay a small rent;but Mrs. Evelegh brushed that aside. 'You've robbed yourselves over thebicycle,' she insisted, 'and I'm delighted to let you have it. It's Iwho ought to pay, for you'll keep the house dry for me.'
I remembered Mr. Hitchcock--'Mutual advantage: benefits you, benefitsme'--and made no bones about it. So in the end Mrs. Evelegh set off forEngland with Cecile, leaving Elsie and me in charge of Ursula, thegardener, and the _chalet_.
As for Lady Georgina, having by this time completed her 'cure' atSchlangenbad (complexion as usual; no guinea yellower), she telegraphedfor Gretchen--'I can't do without the idiot'--and hung round Lucerne,apparently for no other purpose but to send people up the Bruenig on thehunt for our wonderful new machines, and so put money in our pockets.She was much amused when I told her that Aunt Susan (who lived, you willremember, in respectable indigence at Blackheath) had written toexpostulate with me on my 'unladylike' conduct in becoming a bicyclecommission agent. 'Unladylike!--the Cantankerous Old Lady exclaimed,with warmth. 'What does the woman mean? Has she got no gumption? It's"ladylike," I suppose, to be a companion, or a governess, or amusic-teacher, or something else in the black-thread-glove way, inLondon; but not to sell bicycles for a good round commission. My dear,between you and me, I don't see it. If you had a brother, now, _he_might sell cycles, or corner wheat, or rig the share market, or doanything else he pleased, in these days, and nobody'd think the worse ofhim--as long as he made money; and it's my opinion that what is saucefor the goose can't be far out for the gander--and _vice-versa_. Besideswhich, what's the use of _trying_ to be ladylike? You _are_ a lady,child, and you couldn't help being one; why trouble to be _like_ whatnature made you? Tell Aunt Susan from me to put _that_ in her pipe andsmoke it!'
I _did_ tell Aunt Susan by letter, giving Lady Georgina's authority forthe statement; and I really believe it had a consoling effect upon her;for Aunt Susan is one of those innocent-minded people who cherish aprofound respect for the opinions and ideas of a Lady of Title.Especially where questions of delicacy are concerned. It calmed her tothink that though I, an officer's daughter, had declined upon trade, Iwas mixing at least with the Best People!
We had a lovely time at the _chalet_--two girls alone, messing just aswe pleased in the kitchen, and learning from Ursula how to concoct_pot-au-feu_ in the most approved Swiss fashion. We pottered, as wewomen love to potter, half the day long; the other half we spent inriding our cycles about the eternal hills, and ensnaring the flies whomLady Georgina dutifully sent up to us. She was our decoy duck: and, invirtue of her handle, she decoyed to a marvel. Indeed, I sold so manyManitous that I began to entertain a deep respect for my own commercialfaculties. As for Mr. Cyrus W. Hitchcock, he wrote to me from Frankfort:'The world continues to revolve on its axis, the Manitou, and themachine is booming. Orders romp in daily. When you ventilated thesuggestion of an agency at Limburg, I concluded at a glance you had thematerial of a first-class business woman about you; but I reckon I didnot know what a traveller meant till you started on the road. I am nowenlarging and altering this factory, to meet increased demands. Branchoffices at Berlin, Hamburg, Crefeld, and Duesseldorf. Inspect our stockbefore dealing elsewhere. A liberal discount allowed to the trade. Twohundred agents wanted in all towns of Germany. If they were every one ofthem like _you_, miss--well, I guess I would hire the town of Frankfortfor my business premises.'
One morning, after we had spent about a week at the _chalet_ byourselves, I was surprised to see a young man with a knapsack on hisback walking up the garden path towards our cottage. 'Quick, quick,Elsie!' I cried, being in a mischievous mood. 'Come here with theopera-glass! There's a Man in the offing!'
'A _what_?' Elsie excl
aimed, shocked as usual at my levity.
'A Man,' I answered, squeezing her arm. 'A Man! A real live Man! Aspecimen of the masculine gender in the human being! Man, ahoy! He hascome at last--the lodestar of our existence!'
Next minute, I was sorry I spoke; for as the man drew nearer, Iperceived that he was endowed with very long legs and a languidlypoetical bearing. That supercilious smile--that enticing moustache!Could it be?--yes, it was--not a doubt of it--Harold Tillington!
I grew grave at once; Harold Tillington and the situation were serious.'What can he want here?' I exclaimed, drawing back.
'Who is it?' Elsie asked; for, being a woman, she read at once in myaltered demeanour the fact that the Man was not unknown to me.
'Lady Georgina's nephew,' I answered, with a tell-tale cheek, I fear.'You remember I mentioned to you that I had met him at Schlangenbad. Butthis is really too bad of that wicked old Lady Georgina. She has toldhim where we lived and sent him up to see us.'
'Perhaps,' Elsie put in, 'he wants to charter a bicycle.'
I glanced at Elsie sideways. I had an uncomfortable suspicion that shesaid it slyly, like one who knew he wanted nothing of the sort. But atany rate, I brushed the suggestion aside frankly. 'Nonsense,' Ianswered. 'He wants _me_, not a bicycle.'
He came up to us, waving his hat. He _did_ look handsome! 'Well, MissCayley,' he cried from afar, 'I have tracked you to your lair! I havefound out where you abide! What a beautiful spot! And how well you'relooking!'
'This is an unexpected----' I paused. He thought I was going to say,'pleasure,' but I finished it, 'intrusion.' His face fell. 'How did youknow we were at Lungern, Mr. Tillington?'
'My respected relative,' he answered, laughing. 'Shementioned--casually--' his eyes met mine--'that you were stopping in a_chalet_. And as I was on my way back to the diplomatic mill, I thoughtI might just as well walk over the Grimsel and the Furca, and then on tothe Gotthard. The Court is at Monza. So it occurred to me ... that inpassing ... I might venture to drop in and say how-do-you-do to you.'
'Thank you,' I answered, severely--but my heart spoke otherwise--'I dovery well. And you, Mr. Tillington?'
'Badly,' he echoed. 'Badly, since _you_ went away from Schlangenbad.'
I gazed at his dusty feet. 'You are tramping,' I said, cruelly. 'Isuppose you will get forward for lunch to Meiringen?'
'I-- I did not contemplate it.'
'Indeed?'
He grew bolder. 'No; to say the truth, I half hoped I might stop andspend the day here with you.'
'Elsie,' I remarked firmly, 'if Mr. Tillington persists in plantinghimself upon us like this, one of us must go and investigate the kitchendepartment.'
Elsie rose like a lamb. I have an impression that she gathered we wantedto be left alone.
I MAY STAY, MAYN'T I?]
He turned to me imploringly. 'Lois,' he cried, stretching out his arms,with an appealing air, 'I _may_ stay, mayn't I?'
I tried to be stern; but I fear 'twas a feeble pretence. 'We are twogirls, alone in a house,' I answered. 'Lady Georgina, as a matron ofexperience, ought to have protected us. Merely to give you lunch isalmost irregular. (Good diplomatic word, irregular.) Still, in thesedays, I suppose you _may_ stay, if you leave early in the afternoon.That's the utmost I can do for you.'
'You are not gracious,' he cried, gazing at me with a wistful look.
I did not dare to be gracious. 'Uninvited guests must not quarrel withtheir welcome,' I answered severely. Then the woman in me broke forth.'But indeed, Mr. Tillington, I am glad to see you.'
He leaned forward eagerly. 'So you are not angry with me, Lois? I maycall you _Lois_?'
I trembled and hesitated. 'I am not angry with you. I-- I like you toomuch to be ever angry with you. And I am glad you came--just thisonce--to see me.... Yes,--when we are alone--you may call me Lois.'
He tried to seize my hand. I withdrew it. 'Then I may perhaps hope,' hebegan, 'that some day----'
I shook my head. 'No, no,' I said, regretfully. 'You misunderstand me.I like you very much; and I like to see you. But as long as you are richand have prospects like yours, I could never marry you. My pridewouldn't let me. Take that as final.'
I looked away. He bent forward again. 'But if I were poor?' he put in,eagerly.
I hesitated. Then my heart rose, and I gave way. 'If ever you are poor,'I faltered,--'penniless, hunted, friendless--come to me, Harold, and Iwill help and comfort you. But not till then. Not till then, I imploreyou.'
He leant back and clasped his hands. 'You have given me something tolive for, dear Lois,' he murmured. 'I will try to be poor--penniless,hunted, friendless. To win you I will try. And when that day arrives, Ishall come to claim you.'
We sat for an hour and had a delicious talk--about nothing. But weunderstood each other. Only that artificial barrier divided us. At theend of the hour, I heard Elsie coming back by judiciously slow stagesfrom the kitchen to the living-room, through six feet of passage,discoursing audibly to Ursula all the way, with a tardiness that didhonour to her heart and her understanding. Dear, kind little Elsie! Ibelieve she had never a tiny romance of her own; yet her sympathy forothers was sweet to look upon.
We lunched at a small deal table in the veranda. Around us rose thepinnacles. The scent of pines and moist moss was in the air. Elsie hadarranged the flowers, and got ready the omelette, and cooked the chickencutlets, and prepared the junket. 'I never thought I could do it alonewithout you, Brownie; but I tried, and it all came right by magic,somehow.' We laughed and talked incessantly. Harold was in excellentcue; and Elsie took to him. A livelier or merrier table there wasn't inthe twenty-two Cantons that day than ours, under the sapphire sky,looking out on the sun-smitten snows of the Jungfrau.
After lunch, Harold begged hard to be allowed to stop for tea. I hadmisgivings, but I gave way--he _was_ such good company. One may as wellbe hanged for a sheep as a lamb, says the wisdom of our ancestors: and,after all, Mrs. Grundy was only represented here by Elsie, the gentlestand least censorious of her daughters. So he stopped and chatted tillfour; when I made tea and insisted on dismissing him. He meant to takethe rough mountain path over the screes from Lungern to Meiringen, whichran right behind the _chalet_. I feared lest he might be belated, andurged him to hurry.
'Thanks, I'm happier here,' he answered.
I was sternness itself. 'You _promised_ me!' I said, in a reproachfulvoice.
He rose instantly, and bowed. 'Your will is law--even when it pronouncessentence of exile.'
Would we walk a little way with him? No, I faltered; we would not. Wewould follow him with the opera-glasses and wave him farewell when hereached the Kulm. He shook our hands unwillingly, and turned up thelittle path, looking handsomer than ever. It led ascending through afir-wood to the rock-strewn hillside.
Once, a quarter of an hour later, we caught a glimpse of him near asharp turn in the road; after that we waited in vain, with our eyesfixed on the Kulm; not a sign could we discern of him. At last I grewanxious. 'He ought to be there,' I cried, fuming.
'He ought,' Elsie answered.
I swept the slopes with the opera-glasses. Anxiety and interest in himquickened my senses, I suppose. 'Look here, Elsie,' I burst out at last.'Just take this glass and have a glance at those birds, down the cragbelow the Kulm. Don't they seem to be circling and behaving most oddly?'
Elsie gazed where I bid her. 'They're wheeling round and round,' sheanswered, after a minute; 'and they certainly _do_ look as if they werescreaming.'
'They seem to be frightened,' I suggested.
'It looks like it, Brownie,'
'Then he's fallen over a precipice!' I cried, rising up; 'and he's lyingthere on a ledge by their nest. Elsie, we must go to him!'
She clasped her hands and looked terrified. 'Oh, Brownie, how dreadful!'she exclaimed. Her face was deadly white. Mine burned like fire.
'Not a moment to lose!' I said, holding my breath. 'Get out the rope andlet us run to him!'
'Don't you think,' Elsie sugg
ested, 'we had better hurry down on ourcycles to Lungern and call some men from the village to help us? We aretwo girls, and alone. What can we do to aid him?'
'No,' I answered, promptly, 'that won't do. It would only lose time--andtime may be precious. You and I must go; I'll send Ursula off to bringup guides from the village.'
Fortunately, we had a good long coil of new rope in the house, whichMrs. Evelegh had provided in case of accident. I slipped it on my arm,and set out on foot; for the path was by far too rough for cycles. I wassorry afterwards that I had not taken Ursula, and sent Elsie to Lungernto rouse the men; for she found the climbing hard, and I had difficultyat times in dragging her up the steep and stony pathway, almost awatercourse. However, we persisted in the direction of the Kulm,tracking Harold by his footprints; for he wore mountain boots withsharp-headed nails, which made dints in the moist soil, and scratchedthe smooth surface of the rock where he trod on it.
We followed him thus for a mile or two, along the regular path; then ofa sudden, in an open part, the trail failed us. I turned back, a fewyards, and looked close, with my eyes fixed on the spongy soil, as keenas a hound that sniffs his way after his quarry. 'He went off _here_,Elsie!' I said at last, pulling up short by a spindle bush on thehillside.
'How do you know, Brownie?'
'Why, see, there are the marks of his stick; he had a thick one, youremember, with a square iron spike. These are its dints; I have beenwatching them all the way along from the _chalet_!
'But there are so many such marks!'
'Yes, I know; I can tell his from the older ones made by the spikes ofalpenstocks because Harold's are fresher and sharper on the edge. Theylook so much newer. See, here, he slipped on the rock; you can know thatscratch is recent by the clean way it's traced, and the littleglistening crystals still left behind in it. Those other marks have beenwind-swept and washed by the rain. There are no broken particles.'
'How on earth did you find that out, Brownie?'
How on earth did I find it out! I wondered myself. But the emergencyseemed somehow to teach me something of the instinctive lore of huntersand savages. I did not trouble to answer her. 'At this bush, the tracksfail,' I went on; 'and, look, he must have clutched at that branch andcrushed the broken leaves as the twigs slipped through his fingers. Heleft the path here, then, and struck off on a short cut of his own alongthe hillside, lower down. Elsie, we must follow him.'
She shrank from it; but I held her hand. It was a more difficult taskto track him now; for we had no longer the path to guide us. However, Iexplored the ground on my hands and knees, and soon found marks offootsteps on the boggy patches, with scratches on the rock where he hadleapt from point to point, or planted his stick to steady himself. Itried to help Elsie along among the littered boulders and the dwarfgrowth of wind-swept daphne: but, poor child, it was too much for her:she sat down after a few minutes upon the flat juniper scrub and beganto cry. What was I to do? My anxiety was breathless. I couldn't leaveher there alone, and I couldn't forsake Harold. Yet I felt every minutemight now be critical. We were making among wet whortleberry thicket andtorn rock towards the spot where I had seen the birds wheel and circle,screaming. The only way left was to encourage Elsie and make her feelthe necessity for instant action. 'He is alive still,' I exclaimed,looking up; 'the birds are crying! If he were dead, they would return totheir nest-- Elsie, we _must_ get to him!'
She rose, bewildered, and followed me. I held her hand tight, and coaxedher to scramble over the rocks where the scratches showed the way, or toclamber at times over fallen trunks of huge fir-trees. Yet it was hardwork climbing; even Harold's sure feet had slipped often on the wet andslimy boulders, though, like most of Queen Margherita's set, he was anexpert mountaineer. Then, at times, I lost the faint track, so that Ihad to diverge and look close to find it. These delays fretted me. 'See,a stone loosed from its bed--he must have passed by here.... That twigis newly snapped; no doubt he caught at it.... Ha, the moss there hasbeen crushed; a foot has gone by. And the ants on that ant-hill, withtheir eggs in their mouths--a man's tread has frightened them.' So, bysome instinctive sense, as if the spirit of my savage ancestors revivedwithin me, I managed to recover the spoor again and again by a miracle,till at last, round a corner by a defiant cliff--with a terribleforeboding, my heart stood still within me.
We had come to an end. A great projecting buttress of crag rose sheer infront. Above lay loose boulders. Below was a shrub-hung precipice. Thebirds we had seen from home were still circling and screaming.
They were a pair of peregrine hawks. Their nest seemed to lie far belowthe broken scar, some sixty or seventy feet beneath us.
'He is not dead!' I cried once more, with my heart in my mouth. 'If hewere, they would have returned. He has fallen, and is lying, alive,below there!'
I ADVANCED ON MY HANDS AND KNEES TO THE EDGE OF THEPRECIPICE.]
Elsie shrank back against the wall of rock. I advanced on my hands andknees to the edge of the precipice. It was not quite sheer, but itdropped like a sea-cliff, with broken ledges.
I could see where Harold had slipped. He had tried to climb round thecrag that blocked the road, and the ground at the edge of the precipicehad given way with him; it showed a recent founder of a few inches. Thenhe clutched at a branch of broom as he fell; but it slipped through hisfingers, cutting them; for there was blood on the wiry stem. I knelt bythe side of the cliff and craned my head over. I scarcely dared to look.In spite of the birds, my heart misgave me.
There, on a ledge deep below, he lay in a mass, half raised on one arm.But not dead, I believed. 'Harold!' I cried. 'Harold!'
He turned his face up and saw me; his eyes lighted with joy. He shoutedback something, but I could not hear it.
I turned to Elsie. 'I must go down to him!'
Her tears rose again. 'Oh, Brownie!'
I unwound the coil of rope. The first thing was to fasten it. I couldnot trust Elsie to hold it; she was too weak and too frightened to bearmy weight: even if I wound it round her body, I feared my mere massmight drag her over. I peered about at the surroundings. No tree grewnear; no rock had a pinnacle sufficiently safe to depend upon. But Ifound a plan soon. In the crag behind me was a cleft, narrowingwedge-shape as it descended. I tied the end of the rope round a stone,a good big water-worn stone, rudely girdled with a groove near themiddle, which prevented it from slipping; then I dropped it down thefissure till it jammed; after which, I tried it to see if it would bear.It was firm as the rock itself. I let the rope down by it, and waited amoment to discover whether Harold could climb. He shook his head, andtook a notebook with evident pain from his pocket. Then he scribbled afew words, and pinned them to the rope. I hauled it up. 'Can't move.Either severely bruised and sprained, or else legs broken.'
There was no help for it, then. I must go to him.
My first idea was merely to glide down the rope with my gloved hands,for I chanced to have my dog-skin bicycling gloves in my pocket.Fortunately, however, I did not carry out this crude idea too hastily;for next instant it occurred to me that I could not swarm up again. Ihave had no practice in rope-climbing. Here was a problem. But themoment suggested its own solution. I began making knots, or rathernooses or loops, in the rope, at intervals of about eighteen inches.'What are they for?' Elsie asked, looking on in wonder.
'Footholds, to climb up by.'
'But the ones above will pull out with your weight.'
'I don't think so. Still, to make sure, I shall tie them with thisstring. I _must_ get down to him.'
I threaded a sufficient number of loops, trying the length over theedge. Then I said to Elsie, who sat cowering, propped against the crag,'You must come and look over, and do as I wave to you. Mind, dear, you_must_! Two lives depend upon it.'
'Brownie, I daren't? I shall turn giddy and fall over!'
I smoothed her golden hair. 'Elsie, dear,' I said gently, gazing intoher blue eyes, 'you are a woman. A woman can always be brave, wherethose she loves are concerned; and I believe
you love me.' I led her,coaxingly, to the edge. 'Sit there,' I said, in my quietest voice, so asnot to alarm her. 'You can lie at full length, if you like, and onlyjust peep over. But when I wave my hand, remember, you must pull therope up.'
She obeyed me like a child. I knew she loved me.
I GRIPPED THE ROPE AND LET MYSELF DOWN.]
I gripped the rope and let myself down, not using the loops to descend,but just sliding with hands and knees, and allowing the knots to slackenmy pace. Half-way down, I will confess, the eerie feeling of physicalsuspense was horrible. One hung so in mid-air! The hawks flapped theirwings. But Harold was below; and a woman can always be brave where thoseshe loves--well, just that moment, catching my breath, I knew I lovedHarold.
I glided down swiftly. The air whizzed. At last, on a narrow shelf ofrock, I leant over him. He seized my hand. 'I knew you would come!' hecried. 'I felt sure you would find out. Though, _how_ you found out,Heaven only knows, you clever, brave little woman!'
'Are you terribly hurt?' I asked, bending close. His clothes were torn.
'I hardly know. I can't move. It may only be bruises.'
'Can you climb by these nooses with my help?'
He shook his head. 'Oh, no. I couldn't climb at all. I must be lifted,somehow. You had better go back to Lungern and bring men to help you.'
'And leave you here alone! Never, Harold; never!'
'Then what can we do?'
I reflected a moment. 'Lend me your pencil,' I said. He pulled itout--his arms were almost unhurt, fortunately. I scribbled a line toElsie. 'Tie my plaid to the rope and let it down.' Then I waved to herto pull up again.
I was half surprised to find she obeyed the signal, for she crouchedthere, white-faced and open-mouthed, watching; but I have often observedthat women are almost always brave in the great emergencies. She pinnedon the plaid and let it down with commendable quickness. I doubled it,and tied firm knots in the four corners, so as to make it into a sort ofbasket; then I fastened it at each corner with a piece of the rope,crossed in the middle, till it looked like one of the cages they use inmills for letting down sacks with. As soon as it was finished, I said,'Now, just try to crawl into it.'
He raised himself on his arms and crawled in with difficulty. His legsdragged after him. I could see he was in great pain. But still, hemanaged it.
I planted my foot in the first noose. 'You must sit still,' I said,breathless. 'I am going back to haul you up.'
'Are you strong enough, Lois?'
'With Elsie to help me, yes. I often stroked a four at Girton.'
'I can trust you,' he answered. It thrilled me that he said so.
I began my hazardous journey; I mounted the rope by the nooses--one,two, three, four, counting them as I mounted. I did not dare to look upor down as I did so, lest I should grow giddy and fall, but kept my eyesfixed firmly always on the one noose in front of me. My brain swam: therope swayed and creaked. Twenty, thirty, forty! Foot after foot, Islipped them in mechanically, taking up with me the longer coil whoseends were attached to the cage and Harold. My hands trembled; it wasghastly, swinging there between earth and heaven. Forty-five, forty-six,forty-seven-- I knew there were forty-eight of them. At last, after someweeks, as it seemed, I reached the summit. Tremulous and half dead, Iprised myself over the edge with my hands, and knelt once more on thehill beside Elsie.
She was white, but attentive. 'What next, Brownie?' Her voice quivered.
I looked about me. I was too faint and shaky after my perilous ascent tobe fit for work, but there was no help for it. What could I use as apulley? Not a tree grew near; but the stone jammed in the fissure mightonce more serve my purpose. I tried it again. It had borne my weight;was it strong enough to bear the precious weight of Harold? I tugged atit, and thought so. I passed the rope round it like a pulley, and thentied it about my own waist. I had a happy thought: I could use myself asa windlass. I turned on my feet for a pivot. Elsie helped me to pull.'Up you go!' I cried, cheerily. We wound slowly, for fear of shakinghim. Bit by bit, I could feel the cage rise gradually from the ground;its weight, taken so, with living capstan and stone axle, was less thanI should have expected. But the pulley helped us, and Elsie, spurred byneed, put forth more reserve of nervous strength than I could easilyhave believed lay in that tiny body. I twisted myself round and round,close to the edge, so as to look over from time to time, but not at allquickly, for fear of dizziness. The rope strained and gave. It was adeadly ten minutes of suspense and anxiety. Twice or thrice as I lookeddown I saw a spasm of pain break over Harold's face; but when I pausedand glanced inquiringly, he motioned me to go on with my venturesometask. There was no turning back now. We had almost got him up when therope at the edge began to creak ominously.
It was straining at the point where it grated against the brink of theprecipice. My heart gave a leap. If the rope broke, all was over.
With a sudden dart forward, I seized it with my hands, below the partthat gave; then--one fierce little run back--and I brought him levelwith the edge. He clutched at Elsie's hand. I turned thrice round, towind the slack about my body. The taut rope cut deep into my flesh; butnothing mattered now, except to save him. 'Catch the cloak, Elsie!' Icried; 'catch it: pull him gently in!' Elsie caught it and pulled himin, with wonderful pluck and calmness. We hauled him over the edge. Helay safe on the bank. Then we all three broke down and cried likechildren together. I took his hand in mine and held it in silence.
When we found words again I drew a deep breath, and said, simply, 'Howdid you manage to do it?'
I ROLLED AND SLID DOWN.]
'I tried to clamber past the wall that barred the way there by sheerforce of stride--you know, my legs are long--and I somehow overbalancedmyself. But I didn't exactly fall--if I had fallen, I must have beenkilled; I rolled and slid down, clutching at the weeds in the cranniesas I slipped, and stumbling over the projections, without quite losingmy foothold on the ledges, till I found myself brought up short with abump at the end of it.'
'And you think no bones are broken?'
'I can't feel sure. It hurts me horribly to move. I fancy just at firstI must have fainted. But I'm inclined to guess I'm only sprained andbruised and sore all over. Why, you're as bad as me, I believe. See,your dear hands are all torn and bleeding!'
'How are we ever to get him back again, Brownie?' Elsie put in. She waspaler than ever now, and prostrate with the after-effects of herunwonted effort.
'You are a practical woman, Elsie,' I answered. 'Stop with him here aminute or two. I'll climb up the hillside and halloo for Ursula and themen from Lungern.'
I climbed and hallooed. In a few minutes, worn out as I was, I hadreached the path above and attracted their attention. They hurried downto where Harold lay, and, using my cage for a litter, slung on a youngfir-trunk, carried him back between them across their shoulders to thevillage. He pleaded hard to be allowed to remain at the _chalet_, andElsie joined her prayers to his; but, there, I was adamant. It was notso much what people might say that I minded, but a deeper difficulty.For if once I nursed him through this trouble, how could I or any womanin my place any longer refuse him? So I passed him ruthlessly on toLungern (though my heart ached for it), and telegraphed at once to hisnearest relative, Lady Georgina, to come up and take care of him.
He recovered rapidly. Though sore and shaken, his worst hurts, it turnedout, were sprains; and in three or four days he was ready to go onagain. I called to see him before he left. I dreaded the interview; forone's own heart is a hard enemy to fight so long: but how could I lethim go without one word of farewell to him?
'After this, Lois,' he said, taking my hand in his--and I was weakenough, for a moment, to let it lie there--'you _cannot_ say No to me!'
Oh, how I longed to fling myself upon him and cry out, 'No, Harold, Icannot! I love you too dearly!' But his future and Marmaduke Ashurst'shalf million restrained me: for his sake and for my own I held myself incourageously. Though, indeed, it needed some courage and self-control. Iwithdrew my
hand slowly. 'Do you remember,' I said, 'you asked me thatfirst day at Schlangenbad'--it was an epoch to me now, that firstday--'whether I was mediaeval or modern? And I answered, "Modern, Ihope." And you said, "That's well!"-- You see, I don't forget the leastthings you say to me. Well, because I am modern--'my lips trembled andbelied me--'I can answer you No. I can even now refuse you. Theold-fashioned girl, the mediaeval girl, would have held that because shesaved your life (if I _did_ save your life, which is a matter ofopinion) she was bound to marry you. But _I_ am modern, and I see thingsdifferently. If there were reasons at Schlangenbad which made itimpracticable for me to accept you--though my heart pleaded hard--I donot deny it--those reasons cannot have disappeared merely because youhave chosen to fall over a precipice, and I have pulled you up again. Mydecision was founded, you see, not on passing accidents of situation,but on permanent considerations. Nothing has happened in the last threedays to affect those considerations. We are still ourselves: you, rich;I, a penniless adventuress. I could not accept you when you asked me atSchlangenbad. On just the same grounds, I cannot accept you now. I donot see how the unessential fact that I made myself into a winch to pullyou up the cliff, and that I am still smarting for it----'
He looked me all over comically. 'How severe we are!' he cried, in abantering tone. 'And how extremely Girtony! A System of Logic,Ratiocinative and Inductive, by Lois Cayley! What a pity we didn't takea professor's chair. My child that isn't _you_! It's not yourself atall! It's an attempt to be unnaturally and unfemininely reasonable.'
Logic fled. I broke down utterly. 'Harold,' I cried, rising, 'I loveyou! I admit I love you! But I will never marry you--while you havethose thousands.'
'I haven't got them yet!'
'Or the chance of inheriting them.'
He smothered my hand with kisses--for I withdrew my face. 'If you admityou love me,' he cried, quite joyously, 'then all is well. When once awoman admits that, the rest is but a matter of time--and, Lois, I canwait a thousand years for you.'
'Not in my case,' I answered through my tears. 'Not in my case, Harold!I am a modern woman, and what I say I mean. I will renew my promise. Ifever you are poor and friendless, come to me; I am yours. Till then,don't harrow me by asking me the impossible!'
I tore myself away. At the hall door, Lady Georgina intercepted me. Sheglanced at my red eyes. 'Then you have taken him?' she cried, seizing myhand.
I shook my head firmly. I could hardly speak. 'No, Lady Georgina,' Ianswered, in a choking voice. 'I have refused him again. I will notstand in his way. I will not ruin his prospects.'
She drew back and let her chin drop. 'Well, of all the hard-hearted,cruel, obdurate young women I ever saw in my born days, if you're notthe very hardest----'
I half ran from the house. I hurried home to the _chalet_. There, Idashed into my own room, locked the door behind me, flung myself wildlyon my bed, and, burying my face in my hands, had a good, long,hard-hearted, cruel, obdurate cry--exactly like any other mediaevalwoman. It's all very well being modern; but my experience is that, whenit comes to a man one loves--well, the Middle Ages are still horriblystrong within us.