The Coward: A Novel of Society and the Field in 1863

by Henry Morford

  CHAPTER XX.

  SUSPENSE IN DANGER, IN TWO SENSES--HORACE TOWNSEND WITH A NEW THOUGHT--THE USE OF A SWING-ROPE--AN INVITATION TO CAPTAIN HECTOR COLES--A FEARFUL PIECE OF AMATEUR GYMNASTICS--GOING DOWN INTO THE SCHUTE--SUCCESS OR FAILURE?--THE EVENT, AND MARGARET HAYLEY'S MADNESS--TWO UNFORTUNATE DECLARATIONS.

  We have said that the whole body of the pic-nickers rushed up to the edgeof the plateau, and that all, or nearly all, caught glimpses of thesituation. Then came that cry, that shutting of the eyes and springingback, until only three or four, of whom Horace Townsend was one and CaptainHector Coles was _not_ another, remained on the verge. Margaret Hayley,among those who had gazed down and drawn back, remained a few feet from theedge, and the Captain was either so careful of her safety or so anxious tofurnish himself with an excuse for remaining no nearer, that he caught herby the dress and retained his grip as if she had been some bundle ofquartermaster's goods that he was fearful of having slip through hisfingers! Frightened inquiries and equally frightened replies, mingled withmoans and sobs and wringings of female hands, went round the circle thusscattered over the lower part of the plateau; and for a moment those noisesmade the still-ascending cries for help almost inaudible.

  Horace Townsend stood at the very edge, and except perhaps sharing in thefirst cry, he had not uttered one word. He no doubt understood,intuitively, like the rest, that the poor man must have been attempting themad descent, when the undergrowth by which he held fast gave way in hishands, or some stone caved out beneath him, sending him headlong downwardfor a plunge of two thousand feet, from which he had only been temporarilystopped by striking and gripping the root of the tree as he fell. Beyondthis, and with reference to any possibility of saving the perilled man, hewas probably quite as much in the dark as any of the others. He stood halfbent, his dusky cheek pale and his face strangely contorted, his handsclasped low as if wringing themselves surreptitiously, and the eyes beneathhis bent brow looking into the gulf as if he was trying to peer downwardinto the eternal mystery which that man was so soon to fathom.

  Suddenly his face lighted. "Hush! I must speak to that man!" he said, in alow but intense voice, and the behest was obeyed so quickly that almosttotal silence fell upon the top of the plateau.

  "Hallo, below there!" he cried, as the call of agony ceased for an instant.

  "Help! help! oh help! came back from below.

  "Do you understand what I say?" again he called.

  "Yes!--help! help!" came feebly back.

  "Get that rope from the foot of the swing there, quick, some of you!" hecried, and his voice seemed for the time to clear from its hoarseness andring like a trumpet. "Quick!--cut it away at the bottom and bring it allhere!"

  Half a dozen of the young men and one or two of the ladies, delighted toaid in any hope of saving the perilled man (for the most thoughtless of usare naturally, after all, kind and averse to death and suffering), sprungfor the rope. Two of them reached the foot of the swing ahead of theothers, the pocket-knife of one was out in an instant, and in anothermoment they came up dragging nearly or quite an hundred feet of strong inchrope.

  "We have a rope here that will hold you: can you catch it and hold on ortie it around your body?" the lawyer called down again.

  "No!"--the pained and weakening voice came back, and then they all knewwhat had reduced that athletic and iron-gripped man to such a state that hecould make no effort to swing himself up again. He spoke brokenly andfeebly, but Horace Townsend and some of the others caught the words: "Ican't catch the rope--I put my right shoulder out of joint as I fell--Ican't hold on much longer--I shall faint with this pain--oh, can't some ofyou help me?"

  Then passed over the countenance of Horace Townsend one of those sweepingexpressions which make humanity something more or less than human. It mayhave been the god stirring--it may have been the demon. No one saw it--noteven Margaret Hayley; for when he turned nothing more was to be seen thanthat the brow was very dark, and that the lips were set grimly. The powerslooking downward from heaven on the falling of leaves and the nesting ofyoung birds may have remarked the whole expression and set it down at itstrue worth, and that will eventually be found quite sufficient. Before heturned he shouted, much louder and more authoritatively than he had spokenbefore, to the man hanging between life and death below:

  "Hold on, like a man! We _will_ do something to help you!"

  Then he spoke to the two young men, one of whom yet held the end of therope:

  "Tie a big loop in that rope, quick--ten or a dozen feet from the end."

  They proceeded to do so, with not unskilful hands, and in that instant thelawyer approached Captain Hector Coles, where he stood, only a few feetoff, still holding the dress of Margaret Hayley. He did not appear to see_her_ at all, but she saw _him_, and there was that upon his face whichfrightened her so that she literally gasped.

  "Captain Coles!" he said, "do you know what you said of me the other nightand again the other day? There is a rope, and there is yet a chance to savethat man. Go down, if you are as brave as you boast, and save him. Do youhear me?--go!"

  "I? Humph!" That was all the reply that the Captain, half-stupefied, couldmake to what he believed to be the words of a madman.

  "No, I thought not!" sneered the voice through the hard lips. With thewords coat and vest were thrown off, and the tall, slight, athletic formwas developed with no concealment but the shirt and the closely-girttrowsers. The shoes followed, and as they did so Margaret Hayley wellremembered where and when she had before seen that disrobing. She had grownwhite as the collar and cuffs of her gray chambray; and she was soparalyzed with wonder, fear, anxiety, and conflicting thought, that shecould not speak, and was on the point of falling. Yet all this time HoraceTownsend seemed to pay her no more attention or observation than he mighthave done had she been a wooden post or a stone monument erected at thesame point of the plateau!

  Not sixty seconds had elapsed after the throwing off of his outer garments,when the lawyer, without another word to any one, seized the rope, lookedover the edge to see that the Rambler was still hanging to his thorn,lowered down the line until the loop was nearly opposite to him, thencarried up the other end and with the volunteered assistance of one of theyoung men firmly secured it with two or three turns and as many knots,around the trunk of a stout sapling.

  All saw the movement, now, and all began to understand it; but oh, withwhat redoubled agitation was the truth realized! He was going down thatfrail rope, and into what peril! The rope fastened, he stepped forward tothe verge, while a murmur ran round the frightened group, even coming fromthe lips of those who had never spoken to him: "Oh, don't!" Margaret Hayleywas no longer stone: she cast one glance at the face of Captain HectorColes, saw that the expression on it was every thing rather than fear oranxiety, then jerked away her dress from his hand and darted forward.

  "No--do not go!" she said, grasping the lawyer by the arm on the veryverge.

  "I must!" Then for the first time he appeared to see her.

  "No! If I bid you stay for _my_ sake, will you do it?"

  "For your sake, Margaret Hayley, I would go all the quicker. Stand back,for God's sake!--you may fall!"

  She said no other word. Captain Hector Coles sprang forward and grasped herarm to draw her back. She jerked it away, almost angrily, and never stirredso far from the edge as to prevent her looking down the schute. Half adozen of the others, all gentlemen, had taken the same risk of crowding tothe edge, their very breath held; but none of them would any more havethought, just then, of offering to aid _her_, than of tendering the samesupport to one of the rooted saplings on the cliff. It was a fearfulmoment, but not the weakest heart on that plateau beat within the bosom ofthe white-handed Philadelphia girl!

  Horace Townsend threw himself down on his face as he reached the edge,grasped the rope and crawled over backwards in that way, descending ithand-over-hand. Those too far back from the edge to see, heard him call outto the man below as he disappeared
from sight: "Hold fast like a man! I amcoming!" Then they saw no more, and for the moment heard no more.

  Those who stood on the verge, and Margaret Hayley among them--saw theadventurous lawyer descend the rope with slow and steady care but evidentlabor, until he reached the loop opposite and nearly under the suspendedman. Then they saw him weave his right arm into the loop until the strandsof rope seemed to go around it three or four times, throw down his feet tothe rock so as to raise his shoulders away from it, and commence gatheringin the loose rope below with his left. Directly he seemed to have the endin his hand, and they saw him stretch the left arm as if to throw it aroundthe body of the perilled man. At that moment they saw, with a horror thatwords can make no attempt at describing, that the hand of the Rambler whichhad held the end of the root gave way and the body swung to aperpendicular, head downward, only suspended by the hook formed of the leg.All, except one--that _one_--closed their eyes, confident that the leg toomust give way and the poor climber plunge headlong, perhaps bearing downthe would-be rescuer with him. But no!--still the body remained in thatposition for a moment, and in that moment they saw that the rope passedaround it and the hand of the lawyer made an attempt, the success of whichcould not be seen, to tie the rope into a knot about the waist. But even atthat instant the tension of the stiffened leg gave way and they saw thebody plunge downwards, head first; _where_, was too sickening a horror toconjecture.

  No one saw any more--not even Margaret Hayley. With one wild cry shesprang back from the verge and tottered half fainting but still erect, intothe arms of some of the other ladies who had been watching the whole scenethrough _her_.

  Perfect silence--the silence of untold terror and dread. Their own eyes hadseen the Rambler plunge headlong towards the realization of that fearfullast wish: what hope was there that the other, entangled with him, had notaccompanied him? It must be said that for the moment no one dared look overthe edge again, and that no one dared, during the same time, to test, byfeeling the rope, whether any weight still remained at the end of it! Thecast-off coat, vest, hat and shoes of the lawyer assumed the look ofdead-men's clothes unseasonably exhibited; and each even looked upon theother with horror because a spectator of the same catastrophe. What musthave been the feelings of Margaret Hayley, if, as we have had reason tobelieve, her first love had faltered in favor of a new ideal? What those ofCaptain Hector Coles when he believed that a disgusting and audaciousrivalry had been removed at least _two thousand feet_?

  All this found relief when it had lasted about ten ages--in other figures,about two minutes and thirty seconds! The rope was seen to tremble at theedge, and two or three of the men gathered strength to dart forward. A headcame up above the level, and a faint voice said:

  "Give me a hand, here!"

  A hand was given, and in one instant more the lawyer was dragged up uponthe plateau and staggered to his feet. He was bathed in sweat, trembledfearfully, and his clothes were torn in many places. Personally he hadreceived no injury, except that some hard object (perhaps one of the snagsof the root) had struck him near the left temple and ploughed its way insuch a manner that the wound would probably leave a scar there during life,more than half way across the forehead and up into the roots of the hair.Even this was shallow and the few drops of blood flowing from it worealready dried, so that probably the receiver had never been aware of theblow or its effect. Most of those things were seen afterwards--they werecertainly not seen with this particularity at the time, for not one of thepersons on the plateau, from Captain Hector Coles to the least interestedof the company, saw any thing else than the proud face of Margaret Hayleyradiant with humility, and her tall form cowering down as if to make itselfhumbler and less noticeable, as she dropped on her knees before thelawyer--yes, dropped on her knees!--took one of the quivering hands in bothher own dainty white ones, covered it with kisses that some others wouldhave been glad to purchase for hand or lip by mortgaging a soul, andliterally sobbed out:

  "God bless and reward you!--you noblest and strangest man in the world!"

  It was a singular position for a proud and beautiful woman--was itnot?--especially towards a man whose words had never given her any right tomake so complete a surrender of her womanly reticence and dignity? CaptainHector Coles thought so, for he could restrain himself no longer butstepped to her, laid his hand upon her arm and spoke in her ear:

  "For shame, Margaret Hayley!"

  Perhaps no one else heard the words: she heard them, for she was on herfeet in an instant, and the one word which she returned, in the very ear ofthe Captain and certainly unheard by any other, made him start back andredden like one of the traditional furies. He said no more, but stoodsullen as silent. Whether Horace Townsend had not heard the flatteringlanguage addressed to him, or whether he had not yet recovered himselfsufficiently from his late exertion to attempt reply, he made none, butseemed confused and unnerved. He did not recover until some one near himsaid:

  "Poor fellow!--you lost him after all!"

  "Lost him? no!" said the lawyer, arousing himself. "I forgot! He isinsensible but not fatally injured. Pray pull up the rope, gently, for Ibelieve that I am too weak to render you any assistance."

  "What!" cried two or three voices in a breath, and more than as many handsseized the rope. It was drawn tight--there _was_ something yet remainingbelow. As the knowledge spread among the company and they began to pull onthe rope, such an involuntary cheer burst from nearly all their throats,male and female, as might have roused a man moderately insensible. But theyproduced no effect on the dead weight at the end of the line; and it wasonly after more than five minutes of severe but careful pulling, with everybreath waiting in hushed expectation lest some sharp angle of the rockmight at last cut off or weaken the rope, that a dark mass came up to theedge and the insensible form of the Rambler was landed upon the plateau bythe hands that grasped it.

  He might have been dead, for all that could be judged, though there wasreally no reason to believe that he should have expired from any causeexcept fright. But he presented a most pitiful spectacle--his clothesfearfully torn by abrasion against the rocks in drawing up, the right armhanging loosely from the shoulder, the eyes closed and teeth set as in afatal spasm, and the iron-gray hair and straggling beard matted with bloodyet flowing from a severe wound in the head that he had received either infalling against the rock from the root or in the perilous passage upward.There was no indication of breath, but he was alive, for the pulse had notstopped its slow movement, and there was at least a chance that he could berecovered.

  But even then, and while two or three were hurrying to the table for waterto use in bringing back the flitting life and some of the cloths to use asa stretcher in bearing the body to one of the wagons,--even then thegeneral attention was for the moment withdrawn. For just as the poorRambler was fairly landed and the company gathering around him, whileMargaret Hayley was yet standing close to Horace Townsend, with her eyesstill reading that face which seemed to be a perpetual puzzle to her,--thebrown cheek grew suddenly of a ghastly white, the whole frame trembled asif from the coming of a spasm, and the lawyer fell heavily forward, withouta sign of sensation, just as he had done in the previous instance afterrash exposure and severe exertion, at the Pool. Now, as then, reactionseemed to come with terrible force, unnerving the system and literallyovermastering life.

  As was to be expected under such circumstances, the excitement among thepic-nickers redoubled when they had two insensible people instead of one,and one of the two the hero of so strange an adventure as that which hasjust been recorded, to look after and bring back to life. Exclamations: "Heis dying!" "He is dead!" "He has fainted from over-exertion!" "Howdreadful!" and half a dozen others ran round the circle. But MargaretHayley did not hear or did not heed them. She was again upon her knees, fora very different purpose from that which had thus bowed her the momentbefore--lifting the head of matted hair upon her lap, chafing the stiffenedhands, and uttering words that seemed to have no regard to the delicacy ofher p
osition or the hearing of the by-standers. Such words of unmistakableanxiety and fondness the insensible man might have been willing to perilanother life to hear; and they were uttered, let it be remembered, whenshe, however the others may have been alarmed, had no idea that he wasdying or in danger, and more as if she wished to pour out a great truth ofher nature and be relieved of its weight, than with any other apparentthought in view. Oh, that ideal! Oh, love of woman, a moment checked in itsfirst course, to break away again from all bounds and more than redoubleits early madness! Oh, overweening pride of Margaret Hayley, that once hadbeen her most marked characteristic, now cast away like a thing to beloathed and reprobated! Oh, prophet words, spoken by the sorrowing girl buta few hours after the bereavement of her life, now seeming to be sostrangely fulfilled! Second love, and an abandonment that even the firsthad scarcely known, before two months of summer had made the grass greenon the grave of the first! To what was all this tending?

  Captain Hector Coles saw, and writhed. His face was dark enough withpassion to indicate that had no troublesome people and no restraining lawstood in his path, he would have rolled that insensible form over the edgeof the plateau, with no rope to impede its progress, and watched withheart-felt delight the bumping of the body from crag to crag until it wascrushed out of all semblance of humanity at the bottom! But he said not oneword, nor did he again attempt to interfere in the movements of Margaret.

  Only a moment or two, and then the eyes of the lawyer opened. He saw theface that was looking down into his own; and though many a man would havepretended weakness and insensibility a little longer, to keep such aposition, he made an instant movement to rise and struggled to his feetwith but slight assistance. Then the young girl fell back into the group ofother ladies, her duty and her paroxysm of feeling both apparently over,and scarcely aware how much or how little the subject of her interest knewof her words or her actions. Nor was it sure whether the lawyer saw, as hestaggered up from the ground, the expression which rested on the face ofCaptain Coles. Time had its task of solving both these important problems.

  But a few minutes after Horace Townsend's recovery had elapsed, when thebody of the Rambler, showing yet, after every application, but faint signsof life, was carefully conveyed on an impromptu stretcher to one of thewagons--the fragments of the dinner, untasted except as some few of thosewho would have banqueted in a death-room had snatched little bits in themidst of the excitement, gathered up and huddled together in thebaggage-wagon--the whole party more or less comfortably disposed in theconveyances, and all hurrying back to the Crawford with what speed theymight. We say "hurrying", advisedly. It might have been natural enough thatthey should hurry down, to afford more effectual relief to the wounded andtortured man; but let not humanity "lay the flattering unction to its soul"that they lacked another and a more compelling motive! Such a story as thatwhich could be woven of the events of that day, had probably never beentold as of a late actual occurrence, inside the walls of that hostelrie,within the memory of man; and nearly every one, male and female, was alittle more anxious to indulge in the relation as soon as possible, and tohis or her own particular set of intimates, than even to succor life oralleviate suffering! Wonder not that newspapers are popular in the latterhalf of the nineteenth century: man himself is but a newspaper incarnated;and a few friends are not ill-sacrificed, much less perilled withoutadvantage, when the catastrophe affords us plenty of the cheap heroism ofthe looker-on and narrator!

  * * * * *

  The providences are equally strange that give opportunity for the greatblunders and absorbing agonies of life, with those that afford space to itstriumphant successes and its crowning pleasures. Rooms are empty or earsare deaf, sometimes, that we maybe made deliriously happy; but they mayhave an equally assured mission to make us wretched beyond hope. Three daysbefore, a parlor unoccupied except by themselves had afforded HoraceTownsend and Margaret Hayley an opportunity of saying words that seemed tomake, each a new being to the other, and that awakened hopes as wild andmaddening as the dreams of opium could have originated. One laggardservant-girl with her dusting-brush, or one dawdling visitor lingering inthe way, might have prevented all this and kept them on the distant footingthey had before occupied. One person more, strolling down the glen belowthe Crawford at eleven o'clock on the morning following the events on thetop of Mount Willard, might have prevented--what? Nothing, perhaps! Are notall these things ordered for us? And must not the event, debarred in onechannel, have found inevitable way in another? The fatalists, who believein a Deity of infinitesimal and innumerable providences, say "Yes!" andargue that the ripping away of a boot-sole or the scorching of the cook'sshort-cake come within the category. The people of unswayed free-will, whoworship a Deity not over-particular as to the every-day habits of hiscreatures, say "No!" and see nothing providential in any event lessimportant than the breaking out of a pestilence or the downfall of anation. At which point it may be necessary to discover what connection allthis has with the fortunes of two of the people most prominent in thisnarration.

  At about the hour named, that morning, Horace Townsend strolled alone downthe glen, towards the Willey House. Great excitements are always followedby corresponding reaction; and the visitors at the Crawford, after thedeparture of a few gone up the great mountain, had not made a singlecollective arrangement to occupy the day. Each was thrown upon personalresources; and the resource of the lawyer was setting out upon a long andlonely morning walk, his legs being the chief actors therein, while hismind, to judge by the bent head and the slow step, was taking its ownpeculiar and much longer journey.

  Suddenly he lifted his head and came to a full stop. He was _not_ alone,after all! Half a mile below the house, beside the road and under the edgeof a thick clump of woods, lay the trunk of a huge tree, some of the higherbranches yet remaining unshorn, though trimmed by the axe. On the point ofone of these branches, very easily ascended by the stairway of knots below,some eight or ten feet from the ground, rested a neat foot, while the ownerof the figure above it, dressed in a light robe which floated around herwith almost the softness of a cloud, had thrown off her jockey-hat (theobject first attracting the notice of the lawyer) on the ground below, andwas stretching up at full length to pluck a cluster of the great creamyblossoms of the wild northern magnolia, starring the green leaves aroundit, which had beckoned her from the path.

  Does the reader remember where it was that the first glimpse was caught ofMargaret Hayley--standing on the piazza of the house at West Philadelphia,with one arm of Elsie Brand around her waist, but both her own handsemployed in the attempt to force open a blush rose that had as yet but halfblown from the bud? Roses then--the wild magnolia now: would the daintywhite hand that had been so tenderly cruel to the flower-spirit two monthsbefore, only gather the blossom to pluck away its shreds one by one andscatter them listlessly on the ground as she walked? Or had those twomonths taught her something of the meaning of that word "suffering,"unknown before, and ripened and softened the proud nature that possiblyneeded such training?

  The lawyer stood irresolute for a moment, doubtful whether the lady wouldbe pleased by his having discovered her in that somewhat girlish situation.Then he remembered some duty or feeling which seemed of more consequencethan a mere momentary embarrassment, and came close to the log upon whichshe was standing, before she was aware of his presence.

  "Shall I help you down, Miss Hayley?"

  The words were simple, and they did not seem to demand that trembling oftone which really accompanied them. Neither did there appear to be anyoccasion for the flush of red blood which ran all over cheek and brow ofMargaret Hayley in the moment of her first surprise. But the flush was gonebefore she had cast that inevitable look downward, which womanhood cannever forget when caught playing the Amazon however slightly,--steppedlightly down the stairway of knots to the trunk and held out her hand toaccept the offer.

  "See what a beautiful cluster of my favorites!" she said.

&
nbsp; "Beautiful indeed!" The lawyer was looking intently at the blossoms or atthe hand which held them--no matter which. The lady seemed to have someimpression of the latter, for she flushed again a little and drew back bothhands and flowers.

  "And you are walking already again this morning?" she said, after a momentof silence which her companion did not seem disposed to break.

  "Yes," absently.

  "Already quite recovered from yesterday?" Margaret Hayley was treading upondangerous ground: did she know it?

  They had walked on together down the road, as if by mutual consent. Thelawyer was silent again for a time, looking away, and when he again turnedhis eyes towards her there was an earnestness in their glance and a sadseriousness in the whole face which denoted that he had thought much andresolved not a little in that moment.

  "Recovered from yesterday? From the slight fatigue--yes! From some othereffects of the day?--no!"

  "I am sorry to hear you say so." The words dropped slowly and verydeliberately from her lips, and her head had a wavy nod as she spoke.

  "You are sure of the grounds of your sorrow?"

  "I fear so--yes!"

  "Then I, too, have cause to fear!"

  Silence again for a moment, and they walked on, very slowly. Then HoraceTownsend spoke again.

  "You are going away to the Glen House, to-morrow or the next day, are younot?"

  "I believe Captain Coles and my mother have so arranged," was the reply.

  "And I am going southward to Winnipiseogee to-morrow."

  "_You?_" The exclamation was abrupt and surprised, as if she had not beforethought of a separation of routes. Horace Townsend heard the word andrecognized the tone; and what the spark is to the magazine was that suddenmonosyllable to the half-controlled heart of the man.

  "Margaret Hayley, we separate then to-morrow," he said. "This may be and nodoubt will be the last time that we shall speak together without listeners.I have something to say that must be spoken. Will you hear me?"

  She caught him suddenly by the arm, with a motion like that of one warningor checking another on the brink of a precipice--like that she had used theday before under such very different circumstances,--and said:

  "Oh, do not!--do not!"

  "What?"

  "Do not say words that must separate us instead of bringing us nearer toeach other!"

  "And would _that_ grieve you?"

  "On my soul--yes!"

  Another spark to the magazine. It exploded. Horace Townsend had caughtMargaret Hayley's hand and his eye literally flashed fire into hers, whilehis brown cheek mantled with the blood that could no longer be restrained.

  "I _must_ speak, Margaret Hayley, and you must listen. _I love you!_ Thereis not a thought in my mind, not a hope in my soul, that is not yours. Does_that_ separate us?"

  She did not draw away her hand, and yet it returned no answering pressureto his. Her head was bent down so that he could not see her face, and herwords were very few and very sad:

  "I am sorry--very sorry! Yes!"

  "Stop!" He laid his hand upon her forehead, gently pushing back her headuntil he virtually compelled her eyes to come up to the level of his own."Margaret Hayley, too little may be said as well as too much. I am going tosay what perhaps no other man in the world _dare_ say. I love you, but thatis not all. I cite your woman's heart and your immortal soul this momentbefore the sight of that God whose eye is looking down upon us in thissunshine, and I say that _you_ love _me_! You may never forgive me theword, but you must tell me the truth! Do you deny it?"

  "No!" The word was louder and clearer than any that she had spoken--louderand clearer than any that had been spoken during the interview. And yet itwas not a lover's response.

  "You admit this, and yet you say that my opening my heart to you separatesus instead of drawing us together. Three days ago you told me that--thatman"--he did not mention the name of Captain Hector Coles, nor did thereseem to be any occasion--"was not and never could be your betrothedhusband. What tie binds you? What am I to fear? What am I to think?"

  "Think that what I say is true, Horace Townsend--that I love you, and yetthat I do not love you--that your company is dearer to me, to-day, thanthat of any person on earth--that I respect you in every regard and holdyou as one of the bravest and noblest of men--and yet that every word oflove you utter makes it more evident that we must not meet again, and soseparates us forever!"

  "What _is_ this riddle?" He asked the question in a tone of great anxiety,and he did not take away his eyes from the proud orbs that no longer sunkbefore them as he made the inquiry. How impossible to believe that the manwho had but the moment before cited the heart and soul of Margaret Hayleybefore the very eye of God as a searcher of their entire truth and candor,could himself be guilty of deception at the same instant! And yet was henot? Was the riddle really so obscure to him as he pretended? Was the veryname under which he wooed and sought to win, his own? Strangequestions--stranger far than that he asked; and yet questions that must beasked and answered!

  "Listen, Horace Townsend!" she said after one instant of silence. "You callthis a riddle, and you force me to read it to you. I wish you had not doneso, but I have no choice. I would have kept you as a friend--a dear friend,but you would not accept the place."

  "Never--not for one moment!" he broke in, as if through set lips. Her handwas on his arm, and they were again walking listlessly on. She proceededwithout any reference to his interruption.

  "I have too many words to say--words that pain me beyond measure; but youhave forced me to them, and I must finish, even if you think me mad beforeI have done. I do not know but I _am_ mad--every thing about me sometimesseems to be so unreal and mocking."

  Horace Townsend turned at that moment and looked her sidelong in the face,then withdrew his glance again as if satisfied, and she went on:

  "I told you that Captain Hector Coles would never be nearer to me than heis, and he will not. I hate that man, and he knows it. But I _loveanother_!"

  She paused, as if she expected some outburst at this declaration; but nooutburst came. All the effect it produced was a quick shudder through thearm that sustained her hand.

  "I love another--do you hear me? I who say that I love _you_, say that Ilove another! For more than a year, before the last two months, I was abetrothed bride, and never woman loved more truly than I the man who filledmy whole ideal of manly beauty, grace and goodness. One day, two monthsago, I found that man a _coward_. He dared not fight for his nativeland--not even for his native State when it was invaded. Weparted--forever, as I thought; forever, as he thinks, no doubt. I haveheard that he has gone to another land: no matter, he has left _me_, withmy own will. Then I came to the mountains, for change of scene and fordistraction. I met you. I was attracted to you from the first--I have grownmore attracted day by day, until I shudder to think that I love you! Do youknow _why_?

  "Because _my_ affection for _you_ has given birth to some feeble likenessof itself!" was the response.

  "No! The confession may wound your vanity, but the truth must be told.Every throb of my heart towards you, Horace Townsend, has been caused bysome dim resemblance of your face to the man I once loved, and something inyour voice that came to me like a faint echo. It is not _you_ whom I havebeen seeing and hearing, but the man who was handsomer than you, yoursuperior in so many respects, and yet your inferior in that one whichmakes me worship you almost as a god--your sublime, dauntless courage whenall others quail. Do you understand me now, and know why your words shouldnever have been spoken?"

  "I _think_ that I understand you!" was the response, but a bitter smile,unseen by the lady, wreathed the moustached lip as he spoke. "And thatother--he will come back, some day, and all except the old love will beforgotten, and you will marry him, of course."

  "Horace Townsend, you do not quite understand me, yet!" she said. "I am nochild, to be trifled with, but a woman. I loved him, better than my ownsoul, but I cannot continue to love when I cease to respect. I shall nevermar
ry, while I live, unless I marry the man to whom my heart was firstgiven. I thought that perhaps I might find a new ideal, some day, when wefirst parted; but I know better now. You have taught me how nearly thevacant place can be supplied, and yet how empty all is when the one bond iswanting."

  "And I say, again, that some day he will come back, and you will marryhim."

  "Never--if he comes as he was!" was the reply. "If Heaven would work amiracle and give him the one thing that he lacks--bravery andpatriotism,--even if he struck but one blow, to prove that he was no cowardto fly before the enemies of his country,--I would go barefoot round theworld to find him, and be his servant, his slave, if he would not forgivethe past and make me his wife!"

  With the last words she had broken down almost entirely, and as she ceasedshe burst into a very passion of tears and sobs. Where was the overweeningpride of Margaret Hayley? Gone, all gone; and yet she clung to that onetouchstone--her husband, when the country called and he was subjected tothe trial, must prove that he dared be patriot and soldier, or her lipsshould never speak that sacred name!

  "I have indeed spoken too far, and it is better that we should not meetagain," he said, in a voice quite as low and almost as broken as her own."I understand you, now: forgive me if I have caused you pain in making thediscovery; and good-bye!"

  He wrung the young girl's hand almost painfully and was turning away.

  "You are going now? Shall I not see you again?" she asked.

  "No matter--I do not know--I cannot tell. I may see you at the house beforeI leave. If not, and we never meet again, God bless you, Margaret Hayley,the only woman I have ever loved!"

  He stooped suddenly and kissed her hand, then turned, drew his hat over hisbrow and walked rapidly up the road towards the Crawford. Margaret,oppressed by some strange feeling, could not speak. She could only lookback and catch a last glimpse of him as he turned a bend in the road; thensink her face in her hands and sob aloud as if she had buried a second lovenot less dear than the first.

  When she returned to the house, half an hour after, Horace Townsend wasalready gone--flying away towards Littleton with four horses. CaptainHector Coles was in a better humor, being already advised of the fact, thanhe had exhibited at any time during the previous week. Mrs. Burton Hayley,when his going away was mentioned, made some appropriate remarks on therashness of any person exposing himself as the young man had done the daybefore, unless he was fully prepared for death and judgment, and remarkedthat she was rather glad that so wild a person was not going over to theGlen with them. In both these opinions Captain Coles fully coincided.Margaret spoke of the departure as a very matter-of-course affair indeed,and did not even see the glance by which the gallant Captain intended toconvey his full recollection of the scene on the top of Mount Willard.

  Next day that trio, with a dozen of others, went on to the Glen House forthe carriage-ascent of Mount Washington.

  And with that announcement and a single scene following, concludes thesomewhat long connection held by the White Mountains, their scenery andsummer incidents, with the fortunes of the various personages figuringprominently in this life-history.

  * * * * *

  That scene was a very brief one and took place three days after thedeparture from the Crawford, when Margaret Hayley, her mother and CaptainHector Coles, had made the ascent of Washington from the Glen House bycarriage and stood beside the High Altar that has before been mentioned.When Mrs. Burton Hayley was signalizing her arrival at the top by repeatingcertain passages from the big book on the carved stand, which she seemed tohave an idea fitted that elevated point in her summer wanderings, and whichprobably might have done so if she had quoted them with any thingapproaching to correctness. When Margaret Hayley, breathing the same airthat Horace Townsend had breathed a few days before, and aware that she wasdoing so, joined to the rapt emotions of the place and the hour, somethingof the sad glory of human love and grief, stretching out her mental handsto God whose awful majesty stood before her and around her in the greatpeak lifting itself to heaven, and praying that out of darkness might someday come light, as once it had done on that other and more awful peak ofSinai. When Captain Hector Coles, above all such considerations and with akeen eye to his personal "main chances", fancied that another declarationbeside the High Altar on Washington would not only be a "good thing to do"but a proceeding much more likely to meet with a favorable response than ifventured on ground of less altitude.

  Then and there, accordingly, Captain Hector Coles, with Mrs. Burton Hayleyvery near and the granite rocks still nearer, possessed himself suddenly ofMargaret Hayley's white hand, drew her close to him, and murmured:

  "Oh, how long I have waited for this hour, Margaret! I love you. I havenot before said the same thing in words, for a long time, but I believethat you must have seen and known how the old affection has still lived andstrengthened. There have been bitter words between us, occasionally, butthey have not affected the true feeling lying beneath, and--"

  "Stop, Hector Coles!" said Margaret, before he had concluded. "You say thatthere have been bitter words between us occasionally. Now let me warn youthat no bitter word I have ever said in your hearing, has been any thingmore than a baby's whisper to what I _will_ say if you ever dare to alludeto this subject again!"

  "But, Margaret--"

  "No, not another word! Mother, come here!"

  Mrs. Burton Hayley obeyed.

  "Mother, is it with your wish or approbation that Captain Coles has justmade me another offer of his heart?"

  "Certainly it is," the Captain commenced to answer.

  "Stop! it was not to you I put the question, but to my mother!"

  "Well, my daughter--I certainly did--that is--I--"

  "There, you hear!" said Captain Hector Coles, triumphantly, and confidentthat the knowledge of such a maternal indorsement must work in his favor.

  "You did, did you?" and the right hand of Margaret went suddenly inside thethick shawl that wrapped her from the winds of the peak--and unseen by theCaptain a locket--that fatal locket--glittered before the mother's eyes."Will you promise, and keep that promise, that Captain Hector Coles shallnot say one more word to me of love or marriage, while we remain together?If not, as God sees me you know the consequences!"

  Mrs. Burton Hayley's face was very white at that moment, but the next shesaid: "Oh yes, I promise!" and then with a groan, grasping the surprisedCaptain by the arm: "Captain, if you do not wish to see me drop dead, leavethat wild, mad girl to herself! She is crazy, but _I_ cannot help it!"

  Captain Hector Coles looked from one to the other, in added surprise, butfound no explanation; then he muttered something that was not a secondlove-declaration; and the next moment Margaret Hayley stood alone, isolatedas the peak that bore her, and with a heart almost as cold in the dullleaden weight that seemed to lie within her bosom, as the storm-beatenrocks of which that peak was composed.

  Thereafter Captain Hector Coles never spoke to her of love again!