Part 12 (1/2)
Sails rent and cordage strained tell tales of many storm-gusts, or, perchance, of one tornado; and see! her flag is flying half-mast high: the corpse of the Pilot is on board. Let us stand aside, lest we meet the pa.s.sengers as they land. It were worse than mockery to ask how the yachting trip has sped.
Miss Tresilyan rode somewhat in advance of the rest, under her brother's escort. d.i.c.k was a model in his own line, and other brothers-of-beauties might well imitate his moderation and discretion. He never thrust himself into the conversation, or into her presence, when there was a chance of his intrusion being ill-timed, but was always at hand when he was wanted: the slightest sign, or even a glance, from Cecil, brought him to her side, and there he would march for hours in silent but perfect satisfaction. On the present occasion he seemed disposed to be unwontedly talkative, and to indulge in certain speculations relative to the intelligence they had just heard. It was true, he knew it before, but nothing had been disclosed to him beyond the simple fact that Royston was married, and married unhappily. Cecil checked him gently, but very decidedly.
”I had rather not hear or say one word on the subject. It ought not to interest either of us. In good time, I suppose, we shall be told all that it is fitting we should know. Meanwhile, it would be very wrong to make conjectures. No one has any right to pry into Major Keene's affairs if he chooses to keep them secret. I do not believe any one ever did so, even in thought, without repenting it. I dare say Mr. Fullarton will find this out soon, and I shall not pity him in the least. A person _ought_ to be punished who tries to startle people in that disagreeable way. Did you hear f.a.n.n.y's little shriek? I have not had time to laugh at her about it yet. The path is too narrow for two to ride abreast.”
The light tone and manner of her last words might have deceived a closer observer than honest d.i.c.k Tresilyan. He lapsed into silence; but, after some time, his meditations a.s.sumed a cheerfully-roseate hue, as they resolved themselves into the fixed idea that Royston was lingering behind ”to have it out with the parson.”
Some distance in the rear walked Harry Molyneux, holding dutifully his wife's bridle-rein. It was very touching to see the diffidence and humility with which he proffered his little attentions, which were accepted, as it were, under protest. The truth was that _la mignonne_ had forgiven him already, and it was with great difficulty she refrained from telling him so, by word or smile. Her soft heart melted within her at the sight of the criminal's contrition, and decided that he had done penance enough during the last half hour to atone for a graver misdemeanor; but she deferred asking for explanations till a more convenient season, when there should be no chance of interruption; and meanwhile, on grounds of stern political necessity, _elle le boudait_.
(If any elegant scholar will translate that Gallicism for me literally, I shall feel obliged to him.)
Fancy the sensations of a man fighting his frigate desperately against overwhelming odds, when he sees the outline of a huge ”liner,” with English colors at the main, looming dimly through the smoke, close on the enemy's quarter; or those of the commander of an untenable post when the first bayonets of the relieving force glitter over the crest of the hill, and you will have a fair idea of Harry's relief as he looked back and saw Keene rapidly gaining on them with his swift, slas.h.i.+ng stride.
As he fell back and yielded his post to Royston, this was written so plainly on his face that the latter could not repress a smile; but there was little mirth in his voice when he addressed f.a.n.n.y--she had never heard him speak so gently and gravely: ”I know that you are angry with your husband, as well as with me, for keeping you in the dark so long. I must make his peace with you, even if I fail in making my own. He could not tell you one word without breaking a promise given years ago. If he had done so, in spite of the excuse of the strong temptation, I would never have trusted him again. Ah! I see you have done him justice already: that is good of you. Now for my own part. Why I did not choose to let you into the secret as soon as I began to know you well I can hardly say. Hal will tell you all about it, and you will see that, for once, I was more sinned against than sinning; so I was not afraid of your thinking worse of me for it. Perhaps the last thing that a man likes to confess is his one arch piece of folly, especially if he has paid for it as heavy a price as attaches to most crimes. I think I am not sorry that you were kept in the dark till now. The past has given me some pleasant hours with you that might have been darkened if you had known all. I wish you would forgive me. We have always been such good friends, and, in your s.e.x at least, I can reckon so few.”
If he had spoken with his ordinary accent, f.a.n.n.y would scarcely have yielded so readily, but the strange sadness of his tone moved her deeply. A mist gathered in her gentle eyes as she looked at him for some moments in silence, and then held out a timid little tremulous hand.
”I should not have liked you worse for knowing that you had been unhappy once,” she whispered; ”but I ought never to have been vexed at not being taken into confidence. I don't think I am wise or steady enough to keep secrets; only I wish--I do wish--that you had told Cecil Tresilyan.”
He answered her in his old cool, provoking way, ”I know what you mean to imply, but you do Miss Tresilyan less than justice, and me too much honor. What right have you to infer that I look upon her in any other light than a very charming acquaintance, or that she feels any deeper interest in to-day's revelation than if she had heard unexpectedly that any one of her friends was married? Surprises are seldom agreeable, especially when they are so clumsily brought about. I am sure she has not told you any thing to justify your suspicions.”
f.a.n.n.y was the worst casuist out. She was seldom certain about her facts, and when she happened to be so, had not sufficient pertinacity or confidence to push her advantage. Her favorite argument was ever _ad misericordiam_. ”I wish I could quite believe you,” she said, plaintively; ”but I can't, and it makes me very unhappy. You must see that you ought to go.”
Her evident fear of him touched Royston more sharply than the most venomous reproach or the most elaborate sarcasm could have done; but he would not betray how it galled him. ”Three days ago,” he replied, ”I had almost decided on departure; now it does not altogether depend on me.
But you need not be afraid. I shall not worry you long; and while I stay I have no wish, and, I believe, no power, to do any one any harm.” She looked at him long and earnestly, but failed to extract any farther confession from the impenetrable face. Keene would not give her the chance of pursuing the subject, but called up Harry to help him in turning the conversation into a different channel and keeping it there.
Between the two they held the anxieties and curiosities of the oppressed _mignonne_ at bay till they entered Dorade.
They were obliged to pa.s.s the Terra.s.se on their way home: there, alone, under the shadow of the palms, sat Armand de Chateaumesnil. The invalid's great haggard eyes fixed themselves observantly on Cecil Tresilyan as she went by. He laid his hand on the major's sleeve when he came to his side, and said, in a hoa.r.s.e whisper, ”Qu'as tu fait donc, pour l'atterrer ainsi?” The other met the searching gaze without flinching, ”Je n'en sais rien; seulement--on dit que je suis marie.” If the Algerian had been told on indisputable authority that Paris and its inhabitants had just been swallowed up by an earthquake, he would only have raised his s.h.a.ggy brows in a faint expression of surprise, exactly as he did now. ”Tu es marie?” he growled out. ”A laquelle donc des deux doit on compatir--Madame ou Mademoiselle?” Yet he did not like Keene the worse for the impatient gesture with which the latter shook himself loose, muttering, ”Je vous croyais trop sage, M. le Vicomte, pour vous amuser avec ces balivernes de romancier.”
f.a.n.n.y Molyneux and Cecil pa.s.sed the evening together _tete-a-tete_. That kind little creature had a way of taking other people's turn of duty in the line of penitence and apology. On the present occasion she was remarkably gus.h.i.+ng in her contrition, though her own guilt was infinitesimal; but she met with scanty encouragement. She had found time to extract from Harry all the details of the matrimonial misadventure, and wished to give her friend the benefit of them. Miss Tresilyan would not listen to a word. She did not attempt to disguise the interest she felt in the subject, but said that she preferred hearing the circ.u.mstances from Royston's own lips. With all this her manner had never been more gentle and caressing: she succeeded at last in deluding f.a.n.n.y into the belief that every body was perfectly heart-whole, and that no harm had been done, so that that night _la mignonne_ slept the sleep of the innocent, no misgivings or forebodings troubling her dreams. Those brave women!--when I think of the pangs that they suffer uncomplainingly, the agonies that they dissemble, I am inclined to esteem lightly our own claims to the Cross of Valor. How many of them there are who, covering with their white hand the dagger's hilt, utter with a sweet, calm smile, and lips that never tremble, the falsehood holier than most outspoken truths--_Poetus non angit_!
When Cecil returned home Mrs. Danvers was waiting for her, ready with any amount of condolence and indignation. She checked all this, as she well knew how to do; and at last was alone in her own chamber. Then the reaction came on; with natures such as hers, it is a torture not to be forgotten while life shall endure.
There were not wanting in Dorade admirers and sentimentalists, who were wont to watch the windows of The Tresilyan as long as light lingered there. How those patient, unrequited astronomers would have been startled if their eyes had been sharp enough to penetrate the dark recess where she lay writhing and p.r.o.ne, her stricken face veiled by the ma.s.ses of her loosened hair, her slender hands clenched till the blood stood still in their veins, in an agony of stormy self-reproach, and fiery longing, and injured pride; or if their ears had caught the sound of the low, bitter wail that went up to heaven like the cry from Gehenna of some fair, lost spirit, ”My shame--my shame!”
Under favor of the audience, we will drop the curtain here. One of our puppets shall appear to-night no more. When a heroine is once on the stage, the public has a right to be indulged with the spectacle of her faults and follies, as well as of her virtues and excellences; yet I love the phantasm of my queenly Cecil too well to parade her discrowned and in abas.e.m.e.nt.
CHAPTER XVIII.
Other eyes besides Cecil's kept watch through the night that followed that eventful day. Royston's never closed till the dawning. Sometimes sitting motionless, sunk in his gloomy meditations, sometimes walking restlessly to and fro, and cooling his hot forehead in the current of the fresh night air, he kept his mind on a perpetual strain, calculating all probable and improbable chances; and the dull red light was never quenched, that told of perpetually-renewed cigars.
I fancy I hear an objection, springing from lips that are wont to be irresistible, leveled against such an atrocious want of sentiment.
Fairest critic! we will not now discuss the merits or demerits of nicotine, considered as an aid to contemplation, or an anodyne; but do you allow enough for the force of habit? Putting aside the case of those Indian captives, who are allowed a pipe in the intervals of torment (for these poor creatures have had no advantages of education, and are beyond the pale of civilized examples), do you not know that men have finished their last weed while submitting to the toilette of the guillotine? We are told that a Spaniard has begged of his confessor a light for his _papelito_ within sight of a freshly dug grave, when the firing-party was awaiting him one hundred paces off with grounded arms.
Only when the sky was gray did Royston lie down to rest; but he slept heavily late into the morning. His first act, when he rose, was to send a note to Cecil Tresilyan, begging her to meet him at a named place and time: she did not answer it, nevertheless he felt certain she would come. a.s.signations were no novelties to him, but he had gone forth to bear his part in more than one stricken field, where the chances of life and death were evenly poised, without any such despondency or uncertainty as clung to him then on his way to the appointed spot. He arrived there first, but he had not waited long when Cecil came slowly along the path that led into the heart of the woodland. As she drew near, Keene could not help thinking of the first time his eyes had lighted on her, mounting the zigzags of the Castle-hill. There was still the same elasticity of step, the same imperial carriage of the graceful head; but a less observant eye would have detected the change in her demeanor. The pretty petulance and provocative manner which, contrasting with the royalty of her form and feature, contributed so much to her marvelous fascinations, had departed, he feared, never to return.
Many instances occur daily where the same painfully unnatural gravity exasperates us, when its cause can not be traced up to either guilt or sorrow. Ah! Lilla, there are many who think that your wild-flower wreath was a more becoming ornament than that diamond circlet--bridal gift of the powerful baron. Sweet Eugenia! faces that were never absent from your _levees_ in old times you have missed at your court since you wedded Caesar.
Both were outwardly quite calm, but who can guess which of those two strong hearts was most conscious of tremor or weakness when Royston and Cecil met? His hand at least was the steadier, for her slight fingers quivered nervously in his grasp. He did not let them go till he began to speak.