Part 25 (1/2)

”I promise you I will do my very best.”

And then Margaret came into the kitchen and knew what was toward.

She looked like a queen and a princess and a G.o.ddess all in one, with a flood of happy colour in her face and a glad glow in her eyes, and no more hint of maidenly shyness about her than was right and natural.

And Miss Penny's eyes were misty of a sudden, as Graeme went quickly up to her friend, and feasted his hungry eyes on her face for a moment, and then bent and gallantly kissed her hand. For in both their faces was the great glad light that is the very light of life, and Miss Penny was wondering if, in some distant future time, it might perchance be vouchsafed to her also to attain thereto.

”I hope you both slept well,” he said gaily. ”I've done my best in the provisioning line. I know we've got plenty of salt, for one generally forgets it and so I always put in two packets.”

”You've done splendidly,” said Miss Penny, tying up tea in a piece of muslin and dropping it into the kettle.

”I'd have tried for a rabbit, but I wasn't sure if either of you could skin it--”

”Ugh! Don't mention it!”

”And I knew I couldn't, so we'll have to put up with roasted potatoes and imagine the rabbit. I've been told they do that in some parts of Ireland,--hang up a bit of bacon in a corner and point at it with the potato and so imagine the flavour.”

”Potatoes are excellent faring--when there's nothing better to be had,” said Miss Penny, rooting in the basket. ”However, here are three of yesterday's sandwiches, slightly faded, and some biscuits--in good condition, thanks to the tin. Come, we shan't absolutely starve!”

And they enjoyed that meal--two of them, at all events, and perhaps three--as they had never enjoyed a meal before.

”And the weather?” asked Margaret.

”The blessed weather is just as it was; perhaps even a bit more so,--the most glorious weather that ever was on land or sea!”

”But----” said Margaret, smiling at his effervescence.

”No, I'm afraid it can't last very much longer, and potatoes and salt I know would begin to pall in time. After breakfast you shall see the grandest sight of your lives,--and for the rest, we will live in hope.”

XX

And, after all, they saw what they had specially come to see--a sunset from Beleme cliff.

For the day remained gray and boisterous until late in the afternoon.

They had lunched--with less exuberance than they had breakfasted--on potatoes and salt and a thin medicinal-tasting decoction made from breakfast's tea-leaves; they were looking forward with no undue eagerness to potato dinner without even the palliative of medicinal tea; and even Miss Penny acknowledged that, choice being offered her, she would give the preference to some other vegetable for a week to come;--when, of a sudden, the gray veil of the west opened slowly, like the lifting of an iron curtain, and let the light behind s.h.i.+ne through.

And the light was as they could imagine the light of heaven--a pure lucent yellow as of the early primrose, but diaphanous and almost transparent, as though this, which seemed to them light, was itself in reality but an outer veil hiding the still greater glory behind. The curtain lifted but a span, and the lower rim of it curved in a gentle arch from the middle of Guernsey to the filmy line of Alderney. All below the sharp-cut rim was the sea of heavenly primrose, with here and there a floating purple island edged with gold. All above was sombre plum-colour flushed with rose, the edges fraying in the wind, and floating in thin rosy streamers up the dark sky above.

The sun, larger than they had ever seen him in their lives, dropped gently like a great bra.s.s s.h.i.+eld from behind the dark curtain into the sea of primrose light, and the primrose flushed with crimson over Guernsey and with tender green and blue over Alderney.

They hastened away to Beleme cliff, and then they saw what they had hoped to see, and more;--the mighty granite frontlets of Sark all washed with living gold--- s.h.i.+ning from their long conflict with the waves, and gleaming, every one, like a jewel,--from Bec-du-Nez to Moie de Bretagne. And, out in the dimness, behind which lay Jersey, there suddenly appeared the perfect circle of a rainbow such as none of them had ever dreamed of--a perfect orb of the living colours of the Promise--resting bodily on the dark sea like a gigantic iridescent soap-bubble, glowing and pulsing and throbbing under the level beams of the setting sun.

”Wonderful!” murmured Margaret.

”I never saw more than half a bow before,” whispered Miss Penny.

”Nor I,” said Graeme. ”But then, you see, nothing ever was as it is now. Things happened last night.”

At which Miss Penny smiled and murmured, ”Of course! That accounts for everything. The whole world is changed.”