The Light of Scarthey: A Romance

by Egerton Castle

  CHAPTER VI

  THE WHEEL OF TIME

  And to his eye There was but one beloved face on earth, And that was shining on him.

  BYRON.

  Upon the threshold she stood, looking in upon him with dark, luminouseyes; round the small wet face tangles of raven hair fell limp andstreaming; dark raiments clung to her form, diapered with sand andsea-foam, sodden with the moisture that dripped from them to thefloor; under the hem of her skirt one foot peered forth, shoeless inits mud-stained stocking.

  Sir Adrian stared up at her, his brain whirling with a frenzy of joy,gripped in its soaring ecstasy by terror of the incomprehensible.

  On the wings of the storm and the wind had she come to him, hislove--across the awful barriers that divide life and death? Had hislongings and the clamour of his desolate soul reached her, after allthese years, in the far-beyond, and was her sweet ghost here to bidhim cease from them and let her lie at rest? Or, yet, had she come tocall him from the weary world that their souls might meet and be oneat last?... Then let her but lay her lips against his, as once in thebitterness of death, that his sorely-tried heart may break with theexquisite pang and he, too, may die upon their kiss.

  Swift such thoughts were tossing in the turmoil of his mind when thevision smiled ... a young, rosy, living smile; and then reason,memory, the wonder of her coming, the haunting of her grave went fromhim; possessed by one single rapturous certainty he started up andgathered the wet form into his strong arms--yet gently as if he fearedto crush the vision into void--and showered kisses on the wet face.

  Not death--but life! A beating heart beneath his; a lithe young formunder his hand, warm lips to his kisses, ... Merciful Heaven! Were,then, these twenty years all an evil, fevered dream, and was he awakeat length?

  She turned her face from him after a moment and put her hand againsthis breast to push him from her; and as she did so the wonder in thelovely, familiar eyes turned to merriment, and the lips parted intolaughter.

  The sound of the girlish laughter broke the spell. Sir Adrian steppedback, and passed his hand across his forehead with a dazed look.

  And still she laughed on.

  "Why, cousin Landale," she said, at length between the peals; "I cameto throw myself upon your kindness for shelter from the storm, but--Ihad not anticipated such a reception."

  The voice, clear and sweet, with just a tinge of outlandishintonation, struck Adrian to the heart.

  "I have not heard," he faltered, "that voice for twenty years...!"

  Then, coming up to her, he took her hands; and, drawing her towardsthe firelight, scanned her features with eager, hungering eyes.

  "Do not think me mad, child," he said at last; "tell me who youare--what has brought you here? Ah, God, at such a moment! Who is it,"he pursued, as if to himself, whilst still she smiled mockingly andanswered not; "who is it, then, since Cecile de Savenaye is dead--andI am not dreaming--nor in fever? No vision either--this is flesh andblood."

  "Yes, indeed," mocked the girl with another burst of merriment; "fleshand blood, please, and very living! Why, cousin Landale, you that knewCecile de Savenaye so well have you forgotten two babes that were bornat your own house of Pulwick? I believe, 'tis true, I have somewhataltered since you saw me last."

  And again the old room echoed to the unwonted sound of a girl'slaughter.

  Now was the hallucination clearing; but the reality evoked a new andalmost as poignant tenderness. Cecile--phantom of a life-time's love,reborn in the flesh, young as on the last day of her earthlyexistence, coming back into his life again, even the same as she hadleft it! A second wonder, almost as sweet as the first! He clung toit as one clings to the presence of a dream, and, joy unspeakable, thedream did not melt away, but remained, smiling, beautiful, unchanged.

  "Cecile's daughter ..." he murmured: "Cecile's self again; but she wasnot so tall, I think," and drew trembling, reverent hands from herhead to her straight young shoulders. And then he started, crying in achanged voice:

  "How wet and cold you are! Come closer to the fire--sit you into thischair, here, in the warmth."

  He piled up the hearth with faggots till the flames roared again. Shedropped into the proffered chair with a little shiver; now that herecalled her to it, she was wet and cold too.

  He surveyed her with gathering concern.

  "My child," he began, and hesitated, continuing, after a short pauseof musing--for the thought struck him as strange--"I may call you so,I suppose; I that am nearly old enough to be your father; my mind wasso unhinged by your sudden appearance, by the wonderful resemblance,that I have neglected all my duties as host. You will suffer fromthis--what shall we do to comfort you? Here, Jem, good dog! CallRene!"

  The old retriever who, concluding that the visitor was welcome, hadreturned to his doze, here gathered his stiff limbs together, hobbledout through the doorway to give two or three yelping barks at somepoint on the stairs, and then crawl back to his cosy corner by thehearth.

  The girl laughed again. It was all odd, new, exciting. Adrian lookeddown at her. Cecile, too, had had a merry heart, even through periland misfortune.

  And now there were hasty steps upon the stairs, creaking above theouter tumult of sea and wind; and, in accordance with thelong-established custom of summoning him, Rene appeared upon thethreshold, holding a pair of candles.

  At the sight of the figure sitting by the fire he halted, as if rootedto the ground, and threw up his hands, each still clutching itscandle.

  "Mademoiselle...!" he ejaculated. "Mademoiselle here!" Then, rapidlyrecovering his quick wits, he deposited his burden of light upon thetable, advanced towards the lady, made an uncouth but profound bow,and turned to his master.

  "And this, your honour," he remarked, oracularly, and in his usualmanner of literal adaptation, "was also part of the news I had foryour honour from my last journey; but, my faith, I did not know how totake myself to it, as your honour was so much occupied with old timesthis evening. But I had seen Mademoiselle at the castle, asMademoiselle can tell you herself. And if your honour," he added, witha look of astonishment, "will have the goodness to say how it ispossible that Mademoiselle managed to arrive here on our isle, in thisweather of all the devils--reverence speaking, and I humbly beg thepardon of Mademoiselle for using such words--when it was with pain Icould land myself, and that before the storm--I should be grateful toyour honour. For I avow I cannot comprehend it at all. Ah, yourhonour!" continued Rene, with an altered tone, "'tis a strange thing,this!"

  The looks of master and man crossed suddenly, and in the frank blueeyes of the Breton peasant, Sir Adrian read a reflex of his ownthoughts.

  "Yes," he said, more in answer to the look than to the exclamation,"yes, it is a strange thing, friend."

  "And his Honour cannot read the riddle any more than you yourself,Rene," quoth Mademoiselle de Savenaye, composedly from her corner;"and, as for me, I can give no explanations until I am a littlewarmer."

  "Why, truly," exclaimed Sir Adrian, striking his forehead, "we are avery pair of dolts! Hurry, Renny, hurry, call up Margery, and bid herbring some hot drink--tea, broth, or what she has--and blankets. Stay!first fetch my furred cloak; quick, Rene, every moment is precious!"

  With all the agitation of a rarely excited man Sir Adrian threw morewood on the fire, hunted for a cushion to place beneath her feet, andthen, seizing the cloak from Rene's hands, he helped her to rise, andwrapped its ample folds round her as carefully as if she were tooprecious almost to be touched.

  Thus enveloped she sank back in the great arm-chair with a cosy,deliberate, kitten-like movement, and stretched out her feet to theblaze, laying the little shoeless one upon Jem's grey muzzle.

  Adrian knelt beside her, and began gently to chafe it with both hands.And, as he knelt, silence fell between them, and the storm howled outyonder; he heard her give a little sigh--that sigh which would escapefrom Cecile's weariness in moments of rest, which had once been sofamiliar and so pathetic a sound
in his ear. And once more the powerof the past came over him; again he was upon the heath near Quiberon,and Cecile was sitting by him and seeking warmth by the secret fire.

  "Oh, my darling," he murmured, "your poor little feet were so cold;and yet you would not let me gather them to my breast." And, stoopingslowly, he kissed the pretty foot in its torn, stained stocking with apassion he had not yet shown.

  The girl looked on with an odd little smile. It was a novelexperience, to inspire--even vicariously--such feelings as these; andthere was something not unpleasant in the sense of the power which hadbrought this strange handsome man prostrate before her--a maidenlytremor, too, in the sensation of those burning lips upon her feet.

  He raised his eyes suddenly, with the old expectation of a rebuff; andthen, at the sight of the youthful, curious face above him, betookhimself to sighing too; and, laying the little foot back tenderly uponthe cushion, he rose.

  From between the huge fur collar which all but covered her head, theblack eyes followed him as alertly as a bird's; intercepting the softmelancholy of his gaze, she smiled at him, mischievous, confident, anduncommunicative, and snuggled deeper into the fur.

  Leaning against the high mantel-board, he remained silent, broodingover her; the clock ticked off solemnly the fleeting moments of thewonderful hour; and ever and anon the dog drew a long breath ofcomfort and stretched out his gaunt limbs more luxuriously to theheat. After a while Sir Adrian spoke.

  "He who has hospitality to dispense," said he, smiling down at hermutinous grace, "should never ask whence or how the guest came to hishearth ... and yet--"

  She made a slight movement of laziness, but volunteered nothing; andhe continued, his look becoming more wistful as he spoke:

  "Your having reached this rock, during such weather, is startlingenough; it is God's providence that there should live those in theseruins who are able to give you succour. But that you should come in tome at the moment you did--" He halted before the bold inquisitivebrightness of her eyes. "Some day perhaps you will let me explain," hewent on, embarrassed. "Indeed I must have seemed the most absolutemadman, to you. But he who thinks he sees one returned from death inangry waters, may be pardoned some display of emotion."

  The girl sat up briskly and shook herself as if in protest against thesadness of his smile and look.

  "I rise indeed from a watery grave," she said lightly, "or at leastfrom what should have been my grave, had I had my deserts for myfoolishness; as it has turned out I do not regret it now; though Idid, about midway."

  The red lips parted and the little teeth gleamed. "I have found suchkindness and welcome." She caressed the dog who, lazily, tried to lickher hand. "It is all such an adventure; so much more amusing thanPulwick; so much more interesting than ever I fancied it might be!"

  "Pulwick; you come from Pulwick?" said Sir Adrian musing; "true, Renehas said it but just now. Yet, it is of a piece with the strangenessof it all."

  "Yes," said Mademoiselle de Savenaye, once more collecting her cloak,which her hurried movement had thrown off her shoulder. "Madelon and Iare now at Pulwick--I am Molly, cousin, please to remember--or ratherI am here, very warm now, and comfortable, and she is somewhere alongthe shore--perhaps--she and John, as wet as drowned rats. Well, well,I had best tell you the tale from the beginning, or else we nevershall be out of the labyrinth.--We started from Pulwick, for a ride bythe shore, Madelon and I. When we were on the strand it came on torain. There was smoke out of your chimney. I proposed a canter as faras the ruins, for shelter. I knew very well Madelon would not follow;but I threw poor Lucifer--you know Lucifer, Mr. Landale has reservedhim for me; of course you know Lucifer, I believe he belongs to you!Well, I threw him along the causeway. John, he's the groom you know,and Madelon, shrieked after me. But it was beautiful--this magnificenttearing gallop in the rain--I was not going to stop.--But when wewere half way, Lucifer and I, I saw suddenly that the foam seemed tocover the sand in front of me. Then I pulled up quick and turned roundto look behind me. There was already a frightful wind, and the sandand the rain blinded me almost, but there was no mistake--the sea wasrunning between the shore and me. Oh! my God! but I was frightenedthen; I beat poor Lucifer until my whip broke, and he started awaywith a will. But when his feet began to splash the water he too becamefrightened and stopped. I did not know what to do; I pulled out mybroach to spur him with the pin, but, at the first prick I gave him,he reared, and swerved and I fell right on my face in the froth. I gotup and began to run through the water; then I came to some stones andI knew I was saved, though the water was up to my knees and rushing bylike a torrent. When I had clambered up the beach I thought again ofpoor Lucifer. I looked about and saw him a little way off. He wasshaking and tossing his dear black head, and neighing, though I reallydid not hear him, for the wind was in my ears; his body was stockstill, I could not see his legs.... And gradually he sank lower, andlower, and lower, and at last the water passed over his head. Oh! itwas horrible, horrible!"

  The girl shuddered and her bright face clouded. After a moment sheresumed:

  "It was only then I thought of the moving sands they spoke of theother day at Pulwick--and that was why Madelon and that poltroon groomwould not follow me! Yet perhaps they were wise, after all, for thethought of being buried alive made me turn weak all of a sudden. Myknees shook and I had to sit down, although I knew I had passedthrough the danger. But I was so sorry for poor Lucifer! I thought ifI had come down and led him, poor fellow, he might have come with me.Death is so awful, so hideous; he was so full of life and carried meso bravely, only a few minutes before! Is it not a shame that thereshould be such a thing as death?" she cried, rebelliously, and lookedup at the man above her, whose face had grown white at the thought ofthe danger she had barely escaped.

  "I waited," she resumed at length, "till I thought he must be quitedead, there below, and came up to the ruins, and looked for anentrance. I knocked at some doors and called, but the wind was soloud, no one heard. And then, at last, there was one door I couldopen, so I entered and came up the stairs and startled you, as youknow. And that is how I came here and how Lucifer is drowned."

  As she finished her tale at last, she looked up at her companion. ButSir Adrian, who had followed her with ever-deepening earnestness ofmien, remained silent; noticing which she added quickly and with acertain tinge of defiance:

  "And now, no doubt, you are not quite so pleased as you seemed atfirst with the apparition which has caused you the loss of one of yourbest horses!"

  "Why child," cried Sir Adrian, "so that you be safe you might haveleft all Pulwick at the bottom of the sands for me!" And Rene whoentered the room at that moment, heading the advance of Dame Margerywith the posset, here caught the extraordinary sound of a laugh on hismaster's lips, and stepped back to chuckle to himself and rub hishands.

  "Who would have believed that!" he muttered, "and I who was afraid totell his honour! Oh, yes, there are better times coming. Now in withyou, Mother Margery, see for yourself who is there."

  Holding in both hands a fragrant, steaming bowl, the old crone madeher slow entrance upon the scene, peering with dim eyes, and droppingtremulous curtseys every two or three steps.

  "Renny towd me as you wanted summat hot for a lady," she begancautiously; and then having approached near for recognition at last,burst forth into a long-drawn cry!

  "Eh, you never says! Eh, dear o' me," and was fain to relinquish thebowl to her fellow-servant who narrowly watching, dived forward justin time to catch it from her, that she might clasp her aged handstogether once and again with ever-renewed gestures of astonishment."An' it were truth then, an' I that towd Renny to give over hisnonsense--I didn't believe it, I welly couldn't. Eh, Mester Adrian,but she's like the poor lady that's dead and gone, the spit an' imageshe is--e-eh, she is!"

  Molly de Savenaye laughed aloud, stretched out her hand for the bowl,and began with dainty caution to sip its scalding contents.

  "Ah, my dear Margery," said the master, "we little thought wha
t aguest the sea would cast up at our doors to-night! and now we must doour best for her; when she's finished your comforting mixture I shallgive her into your charge. You ought to put her to bed--it will not bethe first time."

  "Ah! it will not, and a troublesome child she was," replied Margery,after the usual pause for the assimilation of his remark, turning tothe speaker from her palsied yet critical survey of her whilomnursling.

  "And I'll see to her, never fear, I'll fettle up a room for her atonce--blankets is airing already, an' sheets, an' Renny he's seen tothe fire, so that as soon as Miss, here, is ready, I am."

  Upon which, dropping a last curtsey with an assumed dignity whichwould have befitted a mistress of the robes, she took her departure,leaving Adrian smiling with amusement at her specious manner ofannouncing that his own bedroom--the only one available for thepurpose in the ruins--was being duly converted into a lady's bower.

  "It grieves me to think," mused he after a pause, while Rene stillbursting with ungratified curiosity, hung about the further end of theroom, "of the terrible anxiety they must be in about you at Pulwick,and of our absolute inability to convey to them the good news of yoursafety."

  The girl gave a little laugh, with her lips over the cup, and shruggedher shoulders but said nothing.

  "My God, yes," quoth Rene cheerfully from his corner. "Notre Damed'Auray has watched over Mademoiselle to-day. She would not permit thedaughter to die like the mother. And now we have got her ladyship weshall keep her too. This, if your honour remembers his sailor'sknowledge, looks like a three-days' gale."

  "You are right, I fancy," said Sir Adrian, going over to him andlooking out of the window. "Mademoiselle de Savenaye will have to takeup her abode in our lighthouse for a longer time than she bargained. Ido not remember hearing the breakers thunder in our cave so loud formany years. I trust," continued the light-keeper, coming down to hisfair guest again, "that you may be able to endure such roughhospitality as ours must needs be!"

  "It has been much more pleasant and I feel far more welcome alreadythan at Pulwick," remarked Mademoiselle, between two deliberate sips,and in no way discomposed, it seemed, at the prospect held out to her.

  "How?" cried Sir Adrian with a start, while the unwonted flush mountedto his forehead, "you, not welcome at Pulwick! Have they not welcomeda child of Cecile de Savenaye at Pulwick?... Thank God, then, for theaccident that has sent you to me!"

  The girl looked at him with an inquisitive smile in her eyes; therewas something on her lips which she restrained. Surrendering her cup,she remarked demurely:

  "Yes, it was a lucky accident, was it not, that there was some oneto offer shelter to the outcast from the sea? It is like a tale ofold. It is delightful. Delightful, too, not to be drowned, safe andsound ... and welcome in this curious old place."

  She had risen and, as the cloak fell from her steaming garments, againshe shivered.

  "But you are right," she said, "I must go to bed, and get these dampgarments off. And so, my Lord of Scarthey, I will retire to myapartments; my Lady in Waiting I see yonder is ready for me."

  With a quaint mixture of playfulness and gravity, she extended herhand, and Adrian stooped and kissed it--as he had kissed fair Cecilede Savenaye's rosy finger-tip upon the porch of Pulwick, twenty yearsbefore.