Part 10 (1/2)
CHAPTER XI
'TWIXT SEA AND SKY
Myra never forgot Jim Airth's prayer. Instinctively she knew it to be the first time he had voiced his soul's thanksgiving or pet.i.tions in the presence of another. Also she realised that, for the first time in her whole life, prayer became to her a reality. As she crouched on the ledge beside him, shaking uncontrollably, so that, but for his arm about her, she must have lost her balance and fallen; as she heard that strong soul expressing in simple unorthodox language its grat.i.tude for life and safety, mingled with earnest pet.i.tion for keeping through the night and complete deliverance in the morning; it seemed to Myra that the heavens opened, and the felt presence of G.o.d surrounded them in their strange isolation.
An immense peace filled her. By the time those disjointed halting sentences were finished, Myra had ceased trembling; and when Jim Airth, suddenly at a loss how else to wind up his prayer, commenced ”Our Father, Who art in heaven,” Myra's sweet voice united with his, full of an earnest fervour of pet.i.tion.
At the final words, Jim Airth withdrew his arm, and a shy silence fell between them. The emotion of the mind had awakened an awkwardness of body. In that uniting ”_Our_ Father,” their souls had leapt on, beyond where their bodies were quite prepared to follow.
Lady Ingleby saved the situation. She turned to Jim Airth, with that impulsive sweetness which could never be withstood. In the rapidly deepening twilight, he could just see the large wistful grey eyes, in the white oval of her face.
”Do you know,” she said, ”I really couldn't possibly sit all night, on a ledge the size of a Chesterfield sofa, with a person I had to call 'Mr.'
I could only sit there with an old and intimate friend, who would naturally call me 'Myra,' and whom I might call 'Jim.' Unless I may call you 'Jim,' I shall insist on climbing down and swimming home. And if you address me as 'Mrs. O'Mara,' I shall certainly become hysterical, and tumble off!”
”Why of course,” said Jim Airth. ”I hate t.i.tles of any kind. I come of an old Quaker stock, and plain names with no prefixes always seem best to me. And are we not old and trusted friends? Was not each of those minutes on the face of the cliff, a year? While that second which elapsed between the slipping of my knife from my right hand and the catching of it, against my knee, by my left, may go at ten years! Ah, think if it had dropped altogether! No, don't think. We were barely half way up. Now you must contrive to put on your shoes and stockings.” He produced them from his pocket. ”And then we must find out how to place ourselves most comfortably and safely. We have but one enemy to fight during the next seven hours--cramp. You must tell me immediately if you feel it threatening anywhere, I have done a lot of scouting in my time, and know a dodge or two. I also know what it is to lie in one position for hours, not daring to move a muscle, the cold sweat pouring off my face, simply from the agonies of cramp. We must guard against that.”
”Jim,” said Myra, ”how long shall we have to sit here?”
He made a quick movement, as if the sound of his name from her lips for the first time, meant much to him; and there was in his voice an added depth of joyousness, as he answered:
”It would be impossible to climb from here to the top of the cliff. When I came down, I had a sheer drop of ten feet. You see the cliff slightly overhangs just above us. So far as the tide is concerned we might clamber down in three hours; but there is no moon, and by then, it will be pitch dark. We must have light for our descent, if I am to land you safe and unshaken at the bottom. Dawn should be breaking soon after three. The sun rises to-morrow at 3.44; but it will be quite light before then. I think we may expect to reach the Moorhead Inn by 4 A.M. Let us hope Miss Murgatroyd will not be looking out of her window, as we stroll up the path.”
”What are they all thinking now?” questioned Lady Ingleby.
”I don't know, and I don't care,” said Jim Airth, gaily. ”You're alive, and I'm alive; and we've done a record climb! Nothing else matters.”
”No, but seriously, Jim?”
”Well, seriously, it is very unlikely that I shall be missed at all. I often dine elsewhere, and let myself in quite late; or stop out altogether. How about you?”
”Why, curiously enough,” said Myra, ”before coming out I locked my bedroom door. I have the key here. I had left some papers lying about--I am not a very tidy person. On the only other occasion upon which I locked my door, I omitted dinner altogether, and went to bed on returning from my evening walk. I am supposed to be doing a 'rest-cure' here. The maid tried my door, went away, and did not turn up again until next morning.
Most likely she has done the same to-night.”
”Then I don't suppose they will send out a search-party,” said Jim Airth.
”No. We are so alone down here. We only matter to ourselves,” said Myra.
”And to each other,” said Jim Airth, quietly.
Myra's heart stood still.
Those four words, spoken so simply by that deep tender voice, meant more to her than any words had ever meant. They meant so much, that they made for themselves a silence--a vast holy temple of wonder and realisation wherein they echoed back and forth, repeating themselves again and again.
The two on the ledge sat listening.
The chant of mutual possession, so suddenly set going, was too beautiful a thing to be interrupted by other words.
Even Lady Ingleby's unfailing habit of tactful speech was not allowed to spoil the deep sweetness of this unexpected situation. Myra's heart was waking; and when the heart is stirred, the mind sometimes forgets to be tactful.