Part 8 (1/2)

”That will keep out the rain,” said he, ”and--and anything else, you know.”

They were in dense darkness. The Captain took a candle and a cardboard box of matches from an inner pocket. Striking a match after one or two efforts (for matches and box were both damp), he melted the end of the candle and pressed it on the block till it adhered. Then he lit the wick. The lady watched him admiringly.

”You seem ready for anything,” she said. But the Captain shook his head sorrowfully, as he laid his match-box down on a dry spot on the block.

”We have no time to lose--” he began.

”No,” she agreed, and opening her cloak she searched for something.

Finding the object she sought, she held it out to him. ”I got that this afternoon. Read it,” she said. ”It's from the man you met last night--Paul de Roustache. The 'Other quarter' means Andrea. And that means ruin.”

Captain Dieppe gently waved the letter aside.

”No, you must read it,” she urged.

He took it, and bending down to the candle read it. ”Just what it would be,” he said.

”I can't explain anything, you know,” she added hastily, with a smile half rueful, half amused.

”To me, at least, there 's no need you should.” He paused a moment in hesitation or emotion. Then he put his hand in his waistcoat-pocket, drew forth a small object, and held it out towards his companion between his finger and thumb. In the dim light she did not perceive its nature.

”This,” said the Captain, conscientiously and even textually delivering the message with which he was charged, ”is the pledge of love.”

”Captain Dieppe!” she cried, leaping back and blus.h.i.+ng vividly.

”Really I--! At such a time--under the circ-- And what is it! I can't see.”

”The pledge of love renewed”--the Captain went on in a loyal hastiness, but not without the sharpest pang--”of Andrea's undying love for you.”

”Of Andrea's--!” She stopped, presumably from excess of emotion. Her lips were parted in a wondering smile, her eyes danced merrily even while they questioned. ”What in the world is it?” she asked again.

”Your wedding-ring,” said the Captain with sad and impressive solemnity, and, on the pretext of snuffing the candle which flickered and guttered in the draught, he turned away. Thus he did not perceive the uncontrollable bewilderment which appeared on his companion's face.

”Wedding-ring!” she murmured.

”He sends it back again to you,” explained the Captain, still busy with the candle.

A long-drawn ”O--oh!” came from her lips, its lengthened intonation seeming to express the dawning of comprehension. ”Yes, of course,” she added very hastily.

”He loves you,” said the Captain, facing her--and his task--again. ”He can't bear his own sorrow, nor to think of yours. He withdraws his demand; your mere word to hold no communication with the person you know of, without his knowledge, contents him. I am his messenger.

Give me your love to--to carry back to him.”

”Did he tell you to say all that?” she asked.

”Ah, madame, should I say it otherwise? Should I who--” With a mighty effort he checked himself, and resumed in constrained tones. ”My dear friend the Count bade me put this ring on your finger, madame, in token of your--your reunion with him.”

Her expression now was decidedly puzzling; certainly she was struggling with some emotion, but it was not quite clear with what.

”Pray do it then,” she said, and, drawing off the stout little gauntlet she wore, she presented her hand to the Captain. Bowing low, he took it lightly, and placed the holy symbol on the appropriate finger. But he could not make up his mind to part from the hand without one lingering look; and he observed with some surprise that the ring was considerably too large for the finger. ”It 's very loose,” he murmured, taking perhaps a sad, whimsical pleasure in the conceit of seeing something symbolical in the fact to which he called attention; in truth the ring fitted so ill as to be in great danger of dropping off.

”Yes--or--it is rather loose. I--I hate tight rings, don't you?” She smiled with vigour (if the expression be allowable) and added, ”I 've grown thinner too, I suppose.”