Part 24 (2/2)

”Don't--don't talk like that now,” he groaned. ”I hated you this morning, but--G.o.d, it is a relief to have you here to share all this with me. G.o.d threw us into the sea and He has saved us. I would to G.o.d I could have gone down with--with her, but--but--” and he broke down, his head falling upon his outstretched arms at her feet. A deep sob from Lady Tennys caused him to lift his haggard eyes to hers. ”It would have been so much better than to live without her,” he cried.

”Why did you not let me go when you found who I was?” she cried almost fiercely. ”I wanted to drown, I was hungry to go to the bottom, to be washed away to the end of the ocean, anywhere but here with you when you thought you were saving her. You had forgotten that I existed until that awful moment in the breakers. I heard her cry out to you as we went overboard. All through the night I heard that cry of 'Hugh! Hugh!' It was worse than the worst of deaths!”

At the mention of Grace's piteous cry, even though heard in imagination, Hugh sank limply to the rock, his mouth falling open and his eyes bulging forth in agony. Every drop of blood in his veins seemed frozen with the realization that he had deserted her in that hour when she had most needed him, that he had left her to go down to death without being by her side, that she had cried out to him for help,--had reached out to him in agony. Crazed by a sudden impulse, he sprang to his feet and glared out over the tumbling waves,--ever moving mountains that reached as far as the eye could see. She arose also, trembling and alarmed.

”Where is she? Where is she?” he cried fiercely. ”My G.o.d! Look at that water! Grace, Grace! My darling, how could I have left you alone to die in that h.e.l.l of water! Let me come to you now, dearest. I will save you.

I will come! Hugh is coming, dearest! Look! She must be out there somewhere. I can reach her if I try. I must go!”

Insane with despair, he leaped to his feet and would have dashed down the steep into the death-dealing breakers had not his companion, with a sharp cry, clutched his arm. He turned fiercely, ready to strike her in his frenzy. His glaring eyes met hers, sweet, wide, and imploring, and their influence told at once upon him. A rush of quiet almost benumbed him, so immediate was the reaction from violence to submission.

”You must not do that!” she cried in horror.

”Let me save her, for G.o.d's sake. I cannot leave her to the sea.”

”Be calm!” she wailed. ”Hours ago I would have leaped into the sea myself, but the thought came to me that she may not be lost after all.

There is something for you to live for.”

”There is nothing. She is lost,” he cried.

”As I stood here, I wondered if she might not have been saved as miraculously as we. Wonder grew into hope and hope took the shape of possibility. Hugh, she may be alive and as safe as we!”

His eyes brightened like a flash; his breath came quickly; he tried to speak, but could not for the joy of hope.

”The hope that she may have been saved and may yet be given back to you kept me from ending the life that did not belong to me, but to her. Hugh Ridgeway, I have spent a thousand years on these rocks, trying to find courage to live. But for me she would be standing here with you. You would have saved her had I not been in the way last night,” she whispered. He could see that she suffered, but he was again blind to everything but his own great despair.

”Yes,” he cried savagely, ”but for you I would have saved her. Oh, I could curse you--curse you!” She shrank back with a low moan, covering her eyes with her hands.

”Don't say that!” she murmured piteously. ”I would to G.o.d I could have gone down with the s.h.i.+p.” His eyes softened and a wave of remorse swept over him.

”Forgive me,” he groaned, ”I am mad or I could not have said that to you. I did not mean it.” He placed his hand on hers, clasping the fingers firmly. ”Forget that I spoke so cruelly. I devoutly thank G.o.d that your life was spared. We both loved the one who was left behind.”

She glanced down at his face doubtingly, unbelievingly, at first. Then a gleam of joy flooded her tired eyes, illumined her face. Sinking down beside him, she placed her head upon his shoulder and wept softly. He did not move from his position on the rock below. His heart was full of tenderness for the living and grief for the dead. His eyes stared out over the sea wistfully.

”I cannot look at that water!” he suddenly shrieked, drawing back in abject terror. ”It is horrible! Horrible!”

He left her side and dashed madly away, strength having come with sudden abhorrence. She looked after him in alarm, her eyes wide with the fear that he was bereft of reason. Down the rocks and up the beach he fled, disappearing among the strangely shaped trees and underbrush that marked the outskirts of the jungle. Again she leaned back against the rock and looked at the unfriendly billows beyond, a feeling that she sat deserted forever on that barren sh.o.r.e plunging her soul into the very lowest pits of wretchedness.

Hours afterward he crept painfully from the cool, lonely jungle into the bright glare of the beach,--calmer, more rational, cursing no more.

A shudder swept over him, a chill penetrated to the marrow of his bones as he looked again upon the sea. His eyes sought the rocks upon which he had left her; his heart was full of an eagerness to comfort her and be comforted in return.

She still sat upon the rock and he hurried toward her. As on his first approach, she did not move. When he drew quite close, he discovered that she was lying limply back against the supporting boulder. The fear that she was dead and that he was left alone almost struck him to the ground.

He reached her side, pale and panting, and then breathed a prayer of rejoicing.

Lady Tennys, her dark lashes resting tranquilly upon her cheek, was lying easily against the staunch old rock, fast asleep.

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