Foul Play

by Charles Reade

  CHAPTER XLVI.

  HELEN had forgotten all about the bonfire. She now asked whether he wassure those on board the steamer could see the bonfire. Then Hazel toldher that it was now of prodigious size and height. Some six months beforehe was crippled he had added and added to it.

  "That bonfire," said he, "will throw a ruddy glare over the heavens thatthey can't help seeing on board the steamer. Then, as they are not on acourse, but on a search, they will certainly run a few miles southward tosee what it is. They will say it is either a beacon or a ship on fire;and, in either case, they will turn the boat's head this way. Well,before they have run southward half a dozen miles, their lookout will seethe bonfire, and the island in its light. Let us get to the boat, mylucifers are there."

  She lent him her arm to the boat, and stood by while he made hispreparations. They were very simple. He took a pine torch and smeared itall over with pitch; then put his lucifer-box in his bosom and took hiscrutch. His face was drawn pitiably, but his closed lips betrayedunshaken and unshakable resolution. He shouldered his crutch, and hobbledup as far as the cavern. Here Helen interposed.

  "Don't you go toiling up the hill," said she. "Give me the lucifers andthe torch and let me light the beacon. I shall be there in half the timeyou will."

  "Thank you! thank you!" said Hazel, eagerly, not to say violently.

  He wanted it done; but it killed him to do it. He then gave her hisinstructions.

  "It is as big as a haystack," said he, "and as dry as a chip; and thereare eight bundles of straw placed expressly. Light bundles to windwardfirst, then the others; it will soon be all in a blaze."

  "Meanwhile," said Helen, "you prepare our supper. I feel quite faint--forwant of it."

  Hazel assented.

  "It is the last we shall--" he was going to say it was the last theywould eat together; but his voice failed him, and he hobbled into thecavern, and tried to smother his emotion in work. He lighted the fire,and blew it into a flame with a palmetto-leaf, and then he sat downawhile, very sick at heart; then he got up and did the cooking, sighingall the time; and, just when he was beginning to wonder why Helen was solong lighting eight bundles of straw, she came in, looking pale.

  "Is it all right?" said he.

  "Go and look," said she. "No, let us have our supper first."

  Neither had any appetite. They sat and kept casting strange looks at oneanother.

  To divert this anyhow, Hazel looked up at the roof, and said faintly, "IfI had known, I would have made more haste, and set pearl _there_ aswell."

  "What does that matter?" said Helen, looking down.

  "Not much, indeed," replied he, sadly. "I am a fool to utter suchchildish regrets; and, more than that, I am a mean selfish cur to _have_a regret. Come, come, we can't eat; let us go round the Point and see thewaves reddened by the beacon that gives you back to the world you wereborn to embellish."

  Helen said she would go directly. And her languid reply contrastedstrangely with his excitement. She played with her supper, and wastedtime in a very unusual way, until he told her plump she was not reallyeating, and he could wait no longer, he must go and see how the beaconwas burning.

  "Oh, very well," said she; and they went down to the beach.

  She took his crutch and gave it to him. This little thing cut him to theheart. It was the first time she had accompanied him so far as thatwithout offering herself to be his crutch. He sighed deeply, as he putthe crutch under his arm; but he was too proud to complain, only he laidit all on the approaching steamboat.

  The subtle creature by his side heard the sigh, and smiled sadly at beingmisunderstood--but what man could understand her? They hardly spoke tillthey reached the Point. The waves glittered in the moonlight; there wasno red light on the water.

  "Why, what is this?" said Hazel. "You can't have lighted the bonfire ineight places, as I told you."

  She folded her arms and stood before him in an attitude of defiance; allbut her melting eye.

  "I have not lighted it at all," said she.

  Hazel stood aghast. "What have I done?" he cried. "Duty, manhood,everything demanded that I should light that beacon, and I trusted it toyou."

  Then Helen's attitude of defiance melted away. She began to cower, andhid her blushing face in her hands. Then she looked up imploringly. Thenshe uttered a wild and eloquent cry, and fled from him like the wind.