Part 28 (1/2)

Berkeley, in the room next to it;” and that arrangement suited me very well. Helen wished us both good-night, and left us together.

We went up into Mayle's cabin and Cullen mixed the rum, which I only sipped. So it was not the rum. I cannot, in fact, remember at all feeling any drowsiness or desire to sleep. I think if I had felt that desire coming over me I should have shaken it off; it would have warned me to keep wide awake. But I was not sensible of it at all; and I remember very vividly the last thing of which I was conscious. That was Cullen Mayle's great silver watch which he held by a ribbon and twirled this way and that as he chatted to me. He spun it with great quickness, so that it flashed in the light of the candle like a mirror, and at once held and tired the eyes. I was conscious of this, I say, and of nothing more until gradually I understood that some one was shaking me by the shoulders and rousing me from sleep. I opened my eyes and saw that it was Helen Mayle who had disturbed me.

It took me a little time to collect my wits. I should have fallen asleep again had she not hindered me; but at last I was sufficiently roused to realise that I was still in the cabin, but that Cullen Mayle had gone. A throb of anger at my weakness in so letting him steal a march quickened me and left me wide awake. Helen Mayle was however in the room, plainly then she had suffered no harm by my negligence. She was at this moment listening with her ear close to the door, so that I could not see her face.

”What has happened?” I asked, and she flung up her hand with an imperative gesture to be silent.

After listening for a minute or so longer she turned towards me, and the aspect of her face filled me with terror.

”In G.o.d's name what has happened, Helen?” I whispered. For never have I seen such a face, so horror-stricken--no, and I pray that I never may again, though the face be a stranger's and not one of which I carried an impression in my heart.

Yet she spoke with a natural voice.

”You took so long to wake!” said she.

”What o'clock is it?” I asked.

”Three. Three of the morning; but speak low, or rather listen! Listen, and while you listen look at me, so that I may know.” She seated herself on a chair close to mine, and leant forward, speaking in a whisper. ”On the night of the sixth of October I went to the shed on Castle Down and had word with Cullen Mayle. Returning I pa.s.sed you, brushed against you. So much you have maintained before. But listen, listen! That night you climbed into Cullen's bedroom and fell asleep, and you woke up in the dark middle of the night.”

”Stop! stop!” I whispered, and seized her hands in mine. Horror was upon me now, and a hand of ice crus.h.i.+ng down my heart. I did not reason or argue at that moment. I knew--her face told me--she had been after all ignorant of what she had done that night. ”Stop; not a word more--there is no truth in it.”

”Then there is truth in it,” she answered, ”for you know what I have not yet told you. It is true, then--your waking up--the silk noose! My G.o.d! my G.o.d!” and all the while she spoke in a hushed whisper, which made her words ten times more horrible, and sat motionless as stone.

There was not even a tremor in the hands I held; they lay like ice in mine.

”How do you know?” I said. ”But I would have spared you this! You did not know, and I doubted you. Of course--of course you did not know.

Good G.o.d! Why could not this secret have lain hid in me? I would have spared you the knowledge of it. I would have carried it down safe with me into my grave.”

Her face hardened as I spoke. She looked down and saw that I held her hands; she plucked them free.

”You would have kept the secret safe,” she said, steadily. ”You liar!

You told it this night to Cullen Mayle.”

Her words struck me like a blow in the face. I leaned back in my chair. She kept her eyes upon my face.

”I--told it--to Cullen Mayle?” I repeated.

She nodded her head.

”To-night?”

”Here in this room. My door was open. I overheard.”

”I did not know I told him,” I exclaimed; and she laughed horribly and leaned back in the chair.

All at once I understood, and the comprehension wrapped me in horror.

The horror pa.s.sed from me to her, though as yet she did not understand. She looked as though the world yawned wide beneath her feet. ”Oh!” she moaned, and, ”Hus.h.!.+” said I, and I leaned forward towards her. ”I did not know, just as you did not know that you went to the shed on Castle Down, that you brushed against me as you returned,--just as you did not know of what happened thereafter.”

She put her hands to her head and s.h.i.+vered.