by Bram Stoker
The curving of the road made an open space, which the spreading trees above shaded. Deep grass was on the wide margin of the flat road which presently dipped to cross a shallow rill of bright water which fell from a little rocky ledge, tinkling happily through the hum of summer insect life. Wildflowers grew everywhere. It was idyllic and delightful and beautiful in every way, even to where, towering high above a Druidic ruin in the foreground, the lofty-hills of Carsphairn rose far away between them and the western sky. In itself the scene wanted for absolute perfection some figures in the foreground. And presently it had them in a very perfect form. Joy clapped her hands with delight like a happy child as she glanced around her. Athlyne drew up sharp, and jumping from his seat held out his hand to Joy who sprang beside him on the road. As they stood together when Joy’s wrap had been removed they made a handsome couple. Both tall and slim and elegant and strong. Both straight as lances; both bright and eager; with the light of love and happiness shining on them more notably than even the flicker of sunlight between the great stems and branches of the trees. His brown hair seemed to match her black; the brown eyes and the grey, both were lit with a “light that never came from land or sea!” Joy’s eyes fell under the burning glances of her lover; the time had not vet come for that absolutely fearless recognition which, being a man’s unconscious demand, a woman instinctively resists. Athlyne recognised the delicacy and acquiesced. All this without a single spoken word. Then he spoke:
“Was there ever such a magnificent run in the world. More than a hundred miles on end without a break or pause. And every moment a lifetime of bliss — to me at all events — Darling!”
“And to me!” Joy’s eyes flashed grey lightning as she raised them for a moment to his, and held them there. Athlyne’s knees trembled with delight; his voice quivered also as he spoke:
“And all the time I never left my duty once for an instant. I think I ought to get a medal!”
“You should indeed, darling. And I never once distracted you from it did I?”
“Unhappily, no!” His eyes danced.
“So I ought to get more than a medal.”
“What? What should you get — now?” His voice was a little hoarse. He drew closer to her. She made no answer in words; but her eyes were more eloquent. With a mutual movement she was in his arms and their mouths met.
“And now for lunch!” he said as after a few entrancing seconds she drew her face away.” I am sure you must be starving.”
“I am hungry!” she confessed. Her face was still flushed and her eyes were like stars. She bustled about to help him. He took the seats and cushions from the tonneau and made a comfortable nest for her, with a seat for himself close, very close beside her. He lifted off the luncheon basket and unstrapped it. Whilst she took out the plates and packets and spread the cloth he put a bottle of champagne and one of fizzy water in the cool of the running stream.
They may have had some delightful picnics on Olympus in the days of the old gods who were so human and who loved so much — and so often. But surely there was none so absolutely divine as on that day that under the trees, looking over at the grey piling summits of the mountains of Carsphairn. The food was a dream, the wine was nectar. The hearts of the two young people beat as one heart Love surely was so triumphant that there never could come a cloud into the sky which hung over them like a blue canopy. Life and nature and happiness and beauty and love took hands and danced around them fairy-like as they sat together, losing themselves and their very souls in the depths of each other’s eyes.
CHAPTER 15
“STOP!”
Under the shading trees the time flew fast It is ever thus in the sylvan glades where love abides:
“... The halcyon hours with double swiftness run And in the splendour of Arcadian summers.
The quicker climb the coursers of the sun.”
Athlyne and Joy sat in a gentle rapture of happiness. She had made him draw up his cushion close to her so that she could lean against him. They sat hand in hand for a while, and then one arm stole round her and drew her close to him. She came yieldingly, as though such a moment had been ordained since the beginning of the world. Her hand stole inside his arm and held him right; and so they sat locked together, with their faces so close that their mouths now and again met in long, sweet kisses. More than once was asked by either the old question of lovers — which has no adequate or final answer: “Do you love me?” And at each such time the answer was given in the fashion which ruled in Eden — and ever since.
Presently Athlyne, drawing Joy closer than ever to him, said:
“Joy darling there is something I want to say to you!” He paused; she drew him closer to her, and held him tighter. She realised that his voice had changed a little; he was under some nervousness or anxiety. This woke the protective instinct which is a part of woman’s love.
“We love each other?”
“I do!” As she spoke she looked at him with her great gray eyes blazing. He kissed her “And I love you, my darling, more than I have words to say. More than words can express. I am lost in you. You are my world, my hope, my heaven! Beyond measure I love you, and honour you, and trust you; and now that I feel you love me too... My dear!... my dear! the whole world seems to swim around me and the heavens to open...”
“Dear, go on. It is music to me — all music — that I have so longed for!”
“Darling! It seems like sacrilege to say anything just now — but — but — You know I love you?”
“Yes!” The simple word was stronger than any embellishment; it was of the completeness, the majesty, of sincerity in its expression.
“Then there is no need to say more of that now... But before I say something else which I long to hear — in words, dear, for its truth is already in my heart...”
“Darling!” she spoke the word lingeringly as though grudging that its saying must end...
“Before such time I must speak with your father!” He spoke the words with a gravity which brought a chill to her heart; her face blanched suddenly as does liquid in the final crystallization of frost Her voice was faint — she was only a girl after all, despite her pride and bravery — as she asked: “Oh, I hope it is nothing...”
“Nothing, darling” he said as he stroked tenderly the hand that lay in his — he had taken his arm from her waist to do it — ”except the courtesy which is due to an old man... and one other thing, small in itself — absolutely nothing in my own mind — which makes it necessary, in respect to his... his... his convictions that I should speak to him before...” He stopped suddenly, remembering that if he went on he must betray the secret which as yet he wished to keep. Not on his own account did he wish to keep it. But there was Joy’s happiness to be considered. Until he knew how Colonel Ogilvie would take the knowledge of his having introduced himself under a false name he must not do or say anything which might ultimately make difference between her and her father.
Joy erred in her interpretation of his embarrassment, of his sudden stopping. Again the pallor grew over her face which had under her lover’s earlier words regained its normal colour. More faintly even than before she whispered: “It is nothing I hope that would keep us...” He saw her distress and cut quickly into her question:
“No! No! No! Nothing that could ever come between you and me. It is only this, Joy darling. Your father belongs to another country from my own and an older generation than mine. His life has been different, and the ideas that govern him are very masterful in their convention. Were I to neglect this I might make trouble which would, without our wish or part, come between us. Believe me, dear, that in this I am wise.” Then seeing the trouble still in her eyes he went on: “I know well, Joy, that it is not necessary for me to justify myself in your eyes.” Here she strained him a little closer and held his arm and his hand harder “but my dearest, I am going to do it all the same. I want to say something, but which I mustn’t say yet, so that you must be tolerant with me if I say unneeded things which
are still open to me. Truly, darling, there is absolutely nothing which could possibly come between you and me. I have done no wrong — in that way at all events. There should be no more difference between you and me for anything that is now in my mind than there is between your soul and the blue sky, above us; between you and heaven...” She put her hand over his mouth:
“Oh hush, hush, dear... By the way what am I to call you — darling?” For the moment he was taken aback. To give her his own name as yet would be to break the resolution of present secrecy; to give her a false name now would be sacrilege. His native Irish wit stood him in good stead:
“That is the name for to-day — darling. There can be none like that for to-day. We began with it. It took me on its wings up to heaven. Let me stay there — for to-day. For to-day we are true husband and wife — are we not?” ‘Yes dear!” she answered simply. He went on:
“To-morrow... we can be grave to-morrow; and then I can give you another name to use — if you wish it!”
“I do!” she said with reverence. She accepted and returned the kiss which followed. This closed the incident, and for a little space they sat hand in hand, his arm again round her whilst again she had linked her arm in his. Presently he said:
“And now Joy dear, won’t you tell me all about yourself. You know that as yet you and I know very little about each other’s surroundings. I want specially to know to-day dear, for to-morrow I want to see your father and it will be better to go equipped.” Joy felt quite in a flutter. At last she was going to learn something about the man she loved. She would tell him everything, and he would... Her thoughts were interrupted by her companion going on:
“And then to-morrow when we have talked I can tell you everything...” “Everything!” then there was something to conceal! Her heart fell. But as the man continued, her train of thought was again interrupted: “When you see him to-night you had better...”
Suddenly she jumped to her feet in a sort of fright. Seeing her face he too sprang up, giving, with the instinct of his campaigning a quick look around as though some danger threatened:
“What is it Joy? What is wrong?...” She almost gasped out: “My father! He will be home by seven! It must be late in the afternoon now and we are more than a hundred miles from home!...” Athlyne in turn was staggered. In his happiness in being with Joy and talking of love he had quite overlooked the passing of time. Instinctively he looked at his watch. It was now close on four o’clock. Joy was the first to speak:
“Oh do let us hurry! No one knows where I am; and if when Daddy gets home and finds I am not there he will be alarmed — and he may be upset. And Mother and Aunt Judy too!... Oh do not lose a moment! If we do not get home before they arrive... and Daddy finds I have been out all day with you... Oh, hurry, hurry!”
Athlyne had been thinking hard whilst she spoke, and his thoughts had been arranging themselves. His intelligence was all awake now. He could see at a glance that Joy’s absence might make trouble for all. Colonel Ogilvie was a man of covenance, and his daughter’s going out with him in such a way was at least unconventional. She must get back in time! His conclusion was reached before she had finished speaking. His military habit of quick action asserted itself; already he was replacing the things in the carriage. Joy saw, and with feverish haste began to help him. When he saw her at work he ran to the engine and began to prepare for starting. When that was ready he held Joy’s coat for her and helped her into her seat. As he took the wheel he said as he began to back down the road which was hardly wide enough to turn in:
“Forgive me, dear. It was all my selfish pleasure. But we shall do all we can. Bar accident we may do it; we have over three hours!” He set his teeth as he saw the struggle before him. It would be a glorious run... and there was no use forestalling trouble... Joy saw the smile on his face, recognised the man’s strength, and was comforted.
They backed into the road and sprang southward. Without taking his eyes off his work, Athlyne said:
“Tell me dear as we go along all that I must bear in mind in speaking to your father of our marriage...”
“There! It was out unconsciously. Joy thrilled, but he did not himself seem to notice his self-betrayal. He went on unconcernedly:
“It may be a little uphill at first if we do not get in line in time.” Joy looked under her lashes at the strong face now set as a stone to his work and kept silence as to the word. She was glad that she could blush unseen. After a little pause she said in a meek voice:
“Very well, dear. I shall tell you whenever we are on a straight bit of road, but I will be silent round the curves.” They were then flying along the old coach road. The road was well-made, broad and with good surface and they went at a terrific pace. Athlyne felt that the only chance of reaching Ambleside was by taking advantage of every opportunity for speed. Already he knew from the morning’s journey that there were great opportunities as long stretches of the road were level and in good order and were not unduly impeded with traffic. The motor was running splendidly, it seemed as if the run in the morning had put every part of it in good working order. He did not despair of getting to Ambleside in time. The train was not due at Windmere till seven. And it might be a little late. In any case it would take the arriving party a little while to get their things together and then drive to Ambleside. As they were sweeping down towards the bridge at Dairy he said to Joy without looking round: “It will be all right. I have been thinking it over. We can do it!” “Thank God!” she exclaimed fervently. She too had been thinking. “Stop!”
“The voice rang out imperiously; and a policeman, stepping from behind the trunk of a great beech, held up his hand. Instinctively Athlyne began to slow. He shouted back “All right!” He had grasped the situation and as they were out of earshot of the policeman said quickly to Joy:
“We are arrested! Oh, I am sorry darling. If they won’t let me pay a fine and go at once you must take the car on. I shall try to arrange that. But do be cautious dear — you are so precious to me. If you are delayed anywhere and can’t make it in time wire to your father tell him you are motoring and have been delayed. It will soften matters, even if he is angry. I shall go on by train in the morning. And darling if you are not getting on as you wish, take a train the best you can — a special. Don’t stop at any expense. But get on! And don’t tell your name to any one, under any circumstances. Don’t forget the telegram if delayed.” As he was speaking the car was slowing and the panting policeman was coming up behind. When the car stopped, Athlyne jumped out and walked towards the officer; he wanted to be as conciliatory as possible.
“I am very sorry, officer. That beautiful bit of road tempted me; and being all quite clear I took a skim down it?”
“Ye did! Man, but it was fine! But I hae to arrest ye all the same. Duty is duty!”
“Certainly. I suppose the station is across the bridge?”
“Ave sir.” The policeman, who at first sight had from his dress taken him for a chauffeur, had by now recognised him as a gentleman.
“Will you come in the car? It’s all right. I’ll go slow.”
“Thank ye sir. I’ve had a deal o’ walkin’ the day!” When the man was in the tonneau Athlyne who had been thinking of what was to be done said to him affably:
“It was silly of me going at such a pace. But I wanted my wife to see how the new car worked.” He had a purpose in saying this: to emphasise to Joy the necessity of not mentioning her name. It was the only way to keep off the subject when they should get to the station. Joy turned away her head. She did not wish either man to see her furious blushing at hearing the word. She took the hint; silence was her cue.
At the station Joy sat in the car whilst Athlyne went inside with the officer. The sergeant was a grave elderly man, not unkindly. He too recognised, but at once, that the chauffeur was a gentleman. There was an air of distinction about Athlyne which no one, especially an official, could fail to appreciate. He was not surprised when he read the card which Athlyne ha
nded to him. He frowned a little and scratched his head.
“I fear this’ll be a bit awkward my lord. Ye come frae o’er the Border and ye’ll hae to attend the summons at New Galloway. I dinna want to inconvenience you and her ladyship but...”
“Will it not be possible to let the car go on. My wife has to meet her father and mother who are coming up to Ambleside to-night, and they will be so disappointed. Her mother is an invalid and is coming from Italy. I shall be really greatly obliged if it can be managed.”
The sergeant shook his head and said slowly:
‘“Tis a fine car. A valuable commodity to take out of the jurisdiction and intil a foreign country.” Athlyne had already taken out his pocket-book. Fortunately he had provided himself well with money before coming north.
“I paid a thousand pounds for the car. Will it not suit if I leave that amount in your custody.” The official was impressed.
“Losh! man what wad I be daen wi’ a thoosan poons in a wee bit station like this, or carryin’ it aboot in me claes. Na! na! if ye’ll de-po-sit say a ten poon note for the guarantee I’m thinkin’ ‘twill be a’ reet. But how can the leddy get ava; ye’ll hae to bide till the morn’s morn.”
“Oh that’s all right, officer, she’s a licensed driver. Unhappily she has not got her license with her. She left it in Ambleside as I was driving myself and had mine.” He said this to avert her being questioned on the neglect; in which case there might be more trouble about the pace.
“Ooh! aye. Then that’s a’ reet! A maun ax her masel forbye she mayn’t hae the license aboot her. Wimmen is feckless cattle anyhow!”