Part 29 (1/2)
”That is the truth; yet how could it be, do you suppose? My very love should have enabled me to detect the difference. I can see now, thinking back, where the fraud was even apparent--in mood, temper, action--and yet at the time these made no such impression. Even s.e.xton never questioned her ident.i.ty; in face, figure, dress the resemblance was absolutely perfect. Good heavens, but she is an actress!”
She touched his arm with her hand, and under the slight pressure he looked aside at her.
”You know now,” she said softly, ”and I know. All this is pa.s.sed and gone between us. We are here alone, the sport of the waves, and I have no reason to be other than frank. I believe in you, Matthew West; in your honesty and manhood. You say you love me?”
”With all my heart and soul; it seems to me now I have always loved you--you came to me, the lady of my dreams.”
Her eyes were wet with unshed tears, yet she smiled back into his face, her voice trembling as she answered.
”And I,” she said slowly, ”have had no thought but of you since our morning in the garden together. How far away that seems.”
”You mean you love me?”
”Yes; I love you; there is no word stronger, but I would speak it--is that not enough?”
He held her in his arms, in spite of the trembling raft, tossed by the swell of the sea, and crushed her against him in the ardent strain of pa.s.sion. An instant she held her head back, her eyes gazing straight into his; then, with sigh of content, yielded, and their lips met, and clung.
The very silence aroused them, startled both into a swift realization of that dreary waste in which they floated helplessly alone, a drifting chip on the face of the waters. Her eyes swept the crest of the waves, and she withdrew herself partially from his arms.
”Why, we must be crazed to dream of happiness here,” she exclaimed. ”Was there ever before so strange a confession of love? I am trying to be brave--but--but that is too much; that waste of green water, with the grey sky overhead. There is no ending to it--just death mocking us in every wave. Oh, Matthew, can this be all? Only this little moment, and then--the end?”
He held her hands tightly, his heart throbbing, but his courage and hope high.
”No, dear,” he whispered eagerly. ”Don't think that for a moment. We have pa.s.sed through too much to dream of such an ending now. There will be s.h.i.+ps--there must be. Look! what is that, yonder against the sky-line? It is, sweet-heart; it is the smoke of a steamer.”
CHAPTER XXIII
AN ESCAPE FROM THE RAFT
They watched with sinking hearts, West rising to his knees, and shading his eyes with his hand, as that thin spiral of smoke crept along the horizon, and finally disappeared into the north. The raft rode so low in the water that no glimpse of the distant steamer could be perceived, and, when the last faint vestige of smoke vanished, neither said a word, but sat there silent, with clasped hands. The bitterness of disappointment wore away slowly, and as the uneventful hours left them in the same helpless condition, they fell again into fitful conversation, merely to thus bolster up courage, and lead their minds to other thoughts. It was maddening to sit there motionless and stare off across the desolate water, seeing nothing but those white-crested surges sweeping constantly toward them, and to feel the continuous leap and drop of the frail raft, which alone kept them afloat.
The hours went by monotonously, with scarcely an occurrence to break the dreariness or bring a ray of hope. The clouds obscured the sky, yet occasionally through some narrow rift, came a glimpse of the sun, as it rose to the zenith, and then began sinking into the west. The air was soft, the breeze dying down, and the height of the waves decreasing; the raft floated more easily, and it no longer became necessary for them to cling tightly to the supports to prevent being flung overboard. But there came out of the void no promise of rescue; the sea remained desolate and untraversed, and finally a mist hung over the water, narrowing the horizon. During the day they saw smoke but always far to the east, and quickly disappearing. Once West felt a.s.sured his eyes caught the glimmer of a white sail to the southward, but it was too far away for him to be sure. At best, it was but a momentary vision, fading almost instantly against the grey curtain of sky. He had scarcely attempted to point it out to Natalie when it completely vanished.
Their effort to talk to each other ceased gradually; there was so little they could say in the presence of the growing peril surrounding them.
They had become the helpless sport of the waves, unable to act, think or plan, surrounded by horror, and aimlessly drifting toward the gloom of another night. Wearied beyond all power of resistance, the girl sank lower and lower until she finally lay outstretched in utter abandonment.
West thrust his coat beneath her head, securely binding her to the raft by the rope's end, and sat beside her dejectedly, staring forth into the surrounding smother. She did not speak, and finally her eyes closed.
Undoubtedly she slept, but he made every effort to remain awake and on watch, rubbing his heavy eyes, and struggling madly to overcome the drowsiness which a.s.sailed him. How long he won, he will never know; the sun was in the west, a red ball of fire showing dimly through the cloud, and all about the same dancing expanse of sea, drear, and dead. The raft rose and fell, rose and fell, so monotonously as to lull his consciousness imperceptibly; his head drooped forward, and with fingers still automatically gripped for support, he fell sound asleep also.
The raft drifted aimlessly on, the waves lapping its sides, and tossing it about as though in wanton play. The currents and the wind held it in their relentless grip, and bore it steadily forward, surging along the grey surface of the sea. The girl lay quiet, her face upturned, unconscious now of her dread surroundings; and the man swayed above her, his head bent upon his breast, both sleeping the sleep of sheer exhaustion. Out of the dim mist shrouding the eastern sky the vague outline of a distant steamer revealed itself for a moment, the smoke from its stacks adding to the gathering gloom. It was but a vision fading swiftly away into silence. No throb of the engines awoke the unconscious sleepers; no eye on the speeding deck saw the low-lying raft, or its occupants. The vessel vanished as suddenly as it had appeared, leaving nothing but a trackless waste of sea. The two slept on.
It was the startled cry of Natalie that roused West, and brought his drooping head, upright. She was sitting up, still held safely by the coil of rope, and pointing excitedly behind him.
”Oh, see there! Look where I point--isn't that land?”
The raft rocked as he swung his body hastily about, and gazed intently in the direction indicated. Land! of course it was land; land already so close at hand, his eyes could trace its conformation--the narrow strip of sand beach, the sharp bluff beyond, the fringe of trees crowning the summit. He rubbed his eyes, scarcely able to credit his sight, half believing it a mirage. Yet the view remained unchanged; it was land, a bit of the west sh.o.r.e, a short promontory running out into the lake toward which the raft, impelled by some hidden current, was steadily drifting. His arm clapped the girl in sudden ecstasy.
”Yes, it's land, thank G.o.d!” he exclaimed thoughtfully. ”We are floating ash.o.r.e, Natalie--saved in spite of ourselves. Why, we could not have been so far out in the lake after all. That must be why all those vessels pa.s.sed to the east of us. I ought to have thought of that before; those villains would never have deserted the yacht in mid-lake, and taken to the boat. They must have known they could make sh.o.r.e easily.”