Part 27 (1/2)

”Oh, Julius, I am so frightened!” she said piteously.

He stopped and took her off the ground as though she had been a child, and bore her swiftly and surely through the dark way. She could see his fiery blue eyes in the gloom, and in the flashes of white light as they pa.s.sed the windows and arches where the moon streamed in, and as she looked she could feel her own grow big and dark; and she was frightened and very happy. But she thought of that strange thing she had dreamed--this very flight of hers exactly as it was to happen, so that she hid her face against his coat and clung to him nervously.

”Put me down,” she cried earnestly, as they emerged upon the flat rock of the landing, ”put me down, Julius,--I dreamed you fell here.”

He obeyed her, and set her on her feet, still supporting her with his arm about her waist. One pa.s.sionate kiss--only one--and then they came out from the shadow of the high cliff, and saw the boat riding lightly in the moonlight, two sailors holding her off the rocks, and the rest busy on board with the sails. The water plashed musically in the little hollows, and from near by there came a deep, mysterious murmur out of the many dark caves that lined the sh.o.r.e.

Leonora stepped lightly in, and Julius arranged the cus.h.i.+ons about her carefully. Neither of them spoke. With a few strong strokes of the oars the boat shot out into the breeze from the lee of the gorge. The foresail was already set, and jib and mainsail went up in a moment, wing and wing, the tapering, lateen-yards pointing to right and left, like the horns of a great, soft, white moth; the water rippled at the stern, and curled up and lapped the rudder as the sails filled, and ever swiftly and more swiftly the craft rushed down the bay in the glorious moonlight, before the steady east wind.

Julius held the tiller with one hand, and the other lovingly supported Leonora's head against his breast, as she lay along the cus.h.i.+ons in the stern.

”Darling,” he said presently, ”what was the dream about my falling at the landing? You never told me.”

She did not answer, but lay quite still.

”Dear one,” he murmured, bending down, ”are you so tired?

Leonora--sweetheart--speak to me!”

But the strain had been too strong, and Leonora lay in his arms, whiter than death under the white moon, unconscious of Julius or of the sea.

Julius saw that she had fainted.

CHAPTER XVIII.

At half past eight on the following morning Temistocle found Leonora's maid at the door of her mistress's room with an expression of blank astonishment on her face that made him laugh. He often laughed, quietly, without the least noise.

”You look exactly like a lay figure in a milliner's shop,” he remarked.

”Except, indeed, that you look much more stupid.”

The maid glared at him.

”The signora”--she began, and then trembled and looked round timidly.

”What about her?” inquired Temistocle, p.r.i.c.king up his ears.

The maid let her voice drop to a low whisper.

”She is not there,” said she.

”Ebbene,” said Temistocle with a grin, ”what has happened to you? She is probably gone out--gone to church. A good place for heretics, too.”

”Macche,” whispered the woman, ”she has not slept in her bed, and everything is upside down in the room.”

”May the devil carry you off!” said Temistocle, suddenly changing his voice, and whispering hoa.r.s.ely. ”Let me see--let me pa.s.s.” He put down the can of hot water he was taking to his master, and pushed past the maid, into Leonora's bedroom.

”Bada,” said the woman, going after him cautiously, ”take care! The signore might come in and find you.”

”What harm is there?” asked the servant. And then he made a careful survey of the premises, locking all the doors except the one by which they had entered.

”It is true, what you said,” he remarked, pus.h.i.+ng the maid out of the room. ”An apoplexy on these foreigners who go away without telling one.