Rockhaven

by Charles Clark Munn

  CHAPTER XXV

  A SUMMER DAY

  The life of suspense now forced upon Winn was not agreeable. He had toomuch inborn ambition and energy of character, and once he had come tofeel himself his own master, as his mission to Rockhaven allowed, neveragain could he fill a menial position and be satisfied, and thepossibility of it once more seemed degradation. Then again his presentdilemma was galling. He had followed Jess Hutton's advice, but no wordcame from the city except the weekly remittance from his firm andletters urging him to sell stock. He would not do so now, not even ifthose honest people had offered any price, and what he had sold was asource of dread. But no one wanted more, for the partial cessation ofwork in the quarry was handwriting on the wall.

  And so the summer days sped by, and Winn's longing for a betterunderstanding with Mona grew stronger. In a way he stood in a falseposition toward all these people except Jess, and the longer itremained so the worse it seemed, so one evening he resolved to confidein Mona.

  "Let us go over to the cave to-morrow afternoon," he said, "I'vesomething to tell you." It was the first step toward the right, and hefelt better for having taken it. When they were crossing the mile ofundulating ledges separating the village from this lonely gorge, Winn,carrying the little green bag and leading Mona like a child around therocks, experienced a strangely sweet feeling of protection and care forher, and with it came the determination to utter no more of the cuttingspeeches so natural to him.

  "I may not be here much longer," he thought, "and it shall be a pleasantafternoon for her to recall when I am gone."

  And be it said here that when a man feels that way toward a woman,love's silken cord has been knotted about his heart. When they reachedthe niche, at the head of the gorge, a surprise awaited Winn, for itsfloor was carpeted thick with freshly gathered ferns, and bunches ofwild roses and clusters of red berries were thrust into each crevice.

  "What good fairy has been here ahead of us?" exclaimed Winn as he lookedat the charming nook. "Was it you, Mona?"

  "It must have been one of your mermaids," she answered prettily, "andour coming has frightened her away."

  "One who plays the violin, I imagine," he answered smiling, "and hasraven tresses instead of sea-green."

  But when Mona was seated and he opposite reclined on the fresh greencarpet, he was in no hurry to tell his story, and for reason. The spot,with its wild grandeur of cliff wall on one side, the other gentlysloping and broadening down to where the white-crested billows leaped inamong the weed-draped rocks, was beyond all question the mostpicturesque bit of coast scenery he had ever seen. And now it seemedendowed with a newer charm. Here he was, hidden away from all the wideworld and almost from himself, with Nature at her grandest and thelimitless ocean voicing eternity at his feet. For a little time hewatched the white-crested billows tossing the rockweed and brown kelpiealoft as they swept into the gorge with a solemn roar. Somehow, justthen, it seemed to him as if he and Mona were alone with God, and theworld was young, and life all before him. And at this moment he forgotall his troubles, and the price of Rockhaven stock seemed of lessaccount than the ferns he sat upon.

  "This spot makes a better man of me, Mona," he said at last, "andto-day it lifts me into the frame of mind that the church bells alwaysdo at eventide. I am not a believer such as you people here are who jointhe church. I am only of the world, worldly, embittered somewhat byexperience and therefore rather distrustful. And yet here it alldisappears, and only God seems good to me." Then he paused, looking outon the wide ocean once more while Mona watched him with wistful eyes,wondering what odd speech would fall from his lips next.

  "I asked you to come here to-day, little girl," he said at last, "totell you the story of my life and what has made me as I am. You havebeen kind and tender and patient with my whims, your mother has openedher door to me, your uncle has trusted me and been my friend, yourminister and many others have been kind to me also, and in all ways awelcome to me and my errand here has been extended. And now I will tellmy story." And tell it all he did, not even omitting Ethel Sherman. Allthe years he had been a menial in Weston & Hill's office, his associatesthe while and their influence, and then this new departure in life withall its hopes and ambitions, to end in a fog of doubt and suspense. Whenthe recital was ended he felt better; how Mona felt her words can bestindicate.

  "I am glad you trust me so much," she said, "and I wish I could say aword that would help you. Uncle Jess's advice must be for the best." Andthen an intuition that all this meant Winn's leaving the island soonbrought a shadow over her face. For a little time the two sat insilence, unconscious of the wild romance of the nook or the ceaselessmonotone of the ocean just below.

  "I have worked hard to make this venture a success," he said at last, ina dejected tone, "and hoped for much, but now it all seems likely tovanish, and worse than that, the good people here who have bought stockwill lose by it and blame me. I cannot tell them how matters stand, oreven leave here at present, and yet any day I may hear that the companyhas dissolved. I've lost all confidence in them now, and to protectmyself am forced to act a dishonorable part and let them send money I donot need. I have a friend to whom I sent our stock, but no word comesfrom him, and so, little girl, you see why I am so disheartened."

  But Mona scarcely understood all he had said--some of it not at all. Thematter of stock values and how the present dilemma came about was quitebeyond her. What she did understand was that some grave dangerthreatened Winn and he must leave the island. She had, impelled by asweet girlish impulse, come to the cave early that day, bringing fernsand flowers to deck it and surprise this man whose every word and smileseemed of so much value. She had brought her violin, glad if he cared tohear her play; she had hoped the little outing, away from all others inthis trysting place, would be charming to him; and in her girlish heartmeant to make it so, and now the little plan had come to naught, andinstead she had heard what caused a heartache. The ferns were fastwilting and the violin remained in its case.

  "Come, dear," said Winn, speaking freely and seeing the cloud on herface, "let us forget this trouble and enjoy this afternoon. We may nothave another one here. Please play for me now."

  But her muse had fled, and she only turned away to hide the pain in herface.

  "I will by and by," she said faintly; "I want to think now."

  And Winn, conscious of the blow he had dealt her, felt a strange senseof guilt. He had known for many weeks that his every word and look andsmile was a joy to her, and while not for one instant had sheoverstepped the bounds of maidenly reserve, her thoughts were of him.And then as he looked at her with face half turned away and lipstightly closed as if to keep back the tears, a sudden impulse to gatherher close in his arms and whisper fond and loving words came to him. Buthe put it away.

  "I wish you would play for me, dear," he said very gently, "and driveaway my blues. Play something lively." And the boy god, ever hoveringwhere hearts are tender, sheathed his arrow and flew away.

  Many times afterward Winn thought of that moment and always with regret.

  A little longer Mona waited, and then, like an obedient child, drew herviolin from its case.

  Our moods are our masters, and be it untutored girl or world-wise man orwoman, they shadow or brighten all expression. And though Mona played athis bidding one and another of the lively airs she knew, a minor chordof sadness ran through them all.

  Then, to his surprise, she began one of the late light operas he hadsent for and given her weeks before. She did not play it with ease, ahalt came now and then, but she played it all through and then paused.

  "I am surprised," he said; "when and how did you learn that? You told meyou could not read a note of music."

  "I have been learning to read," she answered quietly, "and Uncle Jesshas helped me."

  And then Winn, wishing to encourage her in some way, or at least leadher thoughts out of their present gloom, uttered a bit of foolishadvice.

  "Mona, my dear," he said earnestly, "som
e day I hope you may have achance to study music in the city. If you have, and I would advise it,you will win a name for yourself."

  "Would you come to hear me if I did?" she answered sadly.

  "Most assuredly," he said, "and shower you with choicest flowers."

  When the lowering sun had left the gorge in shadow, and twilight hadcrept into the cave, Mona picked up her violin, and, as if to utter herown heartache, softly played the old love song Winn had first heardwhispering out of that wild gorge. Watching her and listening thus towhat seemed the quivering of that girl's heart, his eyes grew misty.

  "Come, dear," he said, when the sad song ended, "it's time to go home."

  And all the way back he held her arm and gently guided her steps amongthe rocks.