A Rent In A Cloud Part 31

"Perfectly. Would that I could sail on and on for ever thus:

Over an ocean just like this, A life of such untroubled bliss."

Calvert threw in a sentimental glance with this quotation.

"In other words, an existence of nothing to do," said she, laughing, "with an excellent cigar to beguile it."

"Well, but 'ladye faire,' remember that I have earned some repose. I have not been altogether a carpet knight I have had my share of lance and spear, and amongst fellows who handle their weapons neatly."

"You are dying to get back to Ghoorkas and Sikhs, but I won't have it I'd rather hear Metastasio or Petrarch, just now."

"What if I were to quote something apposite, though it were only prose--something out of the Promessi Sposi?"

She made no answer, and turned away her head.

"Put up your helm a little: let the sails draw freely. This is very enjoyable; it is a right royal luxury. I'm not sure Antony ever had his galley steered by Cleopatra; had he?"

"I don't know; but I do know that I am not Cleopatra nor you Antony."

"How readily you take one up for a foolish speech, as if these rambling indiscretions were not the soul of such converse as ours. They are like the squalls, that only serve to increase our speed and never risk our safety, and, somehow, I feel to-day as if my temper was all of that fitful and capricious kind. I suppose it is the over-happiness. Are you happy, Florry?" asked he, after a pause.

"If you mean, do I enjoy this glorious day and our sail, yes, intensely.

Now, what am I to do? The sail is flapping in spite of me."

"Because the wind has chopped round, and is coming from the eastward.

Down your helm, and let her find her own way. We have the n.o.ble privilege of not caring whither. How she spins through it now."

"It is immensely exciting," said she, and her colour heightened as she spoke.

"Have you superst.i.tions about dates?" he asked after another pause.

"No; I don't think so. My life has been so uneventful. Few days record anything memorable. But why did you ask?"

"I am--I am a devout believer in lucky and unlucky days, and had I only bethought me this was a Friday, I'd have put off our sail till to-morrow."

"It is strange to see a man like you attach importance to these things."

"And yet it is exactly men like me who do so. Superst.i.tions belong to hardy, stern, rugged races, like the northmen, even more than the'

natives of southern climes. Too haughty and too self-dependent to ask counsel from others like themselves, they seek advice in the occult signs and faint whispers of the natural world. Would you believe it, that I cast a horoscope last night to know if I should succeed in the next project I undertook?"

"And what was the answer?"

"An enigma to this purpose: that if what I undertook corresponded with the entrance of Orion into the seventh house--Why are you laughing?"

"Is it not too absurd to hear such nonsense from you?"

"Was it not the grotesque homage of the witch made Macbeth a murderer?

What are you doing, child? Luff--luff up; the wind is freshening."

"I begin to think there should be a more skilful hand on the tiller. It blows freshly now."

"In three days more, Florence," said he gravely, "it will be exactly two years since we sailed here all alone. Those two years have been to me like a long, long life, so much of danger and trouble and suffering have been compa.s.sed in them. Were I to tell you all, you'd own that few men could have borne my burden without being crushed by it. It was not death in any common shape that I confronted; but I must not speak of this.

What I would say is, that through all the perils I pa.s.sed, one image floated before me--one voice was in my ear. It was yours."

"Dear Harry, let me implore you not to go back to these things."

"I must, Florence--I must," said he, still more sadly. "If I pain you, it is only your fair share of suffering."

"My fair share! And why?"

"For this reason. When I knew you first, I was a worn-out, weary, heart-sick man of the world. Young as I was, I was weary of it all; I thought I had tasted of whatever it had of sweet or bitter. I had no wish to renew my experiences. I felt there was a road to go, and I began my life-journey without interest, or anxiety or hope. You taught me otherwise, Florence; you revived the heart that was all but cold, and brought it back to life and energy; you inspired me with high ambitions and n.o.ble desires; you gave confidence where there had been distrust, and hope where there had been indifference."

"There, there!" cried she, eagerly; "there comes another squall. You must take the helm; I am getting frightened."

"You are calmer than I am, Florence dearest. Hear me out. Why, I ask you--why call me back to an existence which you intended to make valueless to me? Why ask me to go a road where you refuse to journey?"

"Do come here! I know not what I am doing. And see, it grows darker and darker over yonder!"

"You steered me into stormier waters, and had few compunctions for it.

Hear me out, Florence. For you I came back to a life that I ceased to care for; for you I took on me cares, and dangers, and crosses, and conquered them all; for you I won honours, high rewards, and riches, and now I come to lay them at your feet, and say, 'Weigh all these against the proofs of that other man's affection. Put into one scale these successes, won alone for _you_; these trials, these wounds--and into the other some humdrum letters of that good-enough creature, who is no more worthy of _you_ than he has the courage to declare it.'"

As he spoke a clap of thunder, sharp as a cannon-shot broke above their heads, and a squall struck the boat aloft, bending her over till she half filled with water, throwing at the same time the young girl from her place to the lee-side of the boat.

Lifting her up, Calvert placed her on the seat, while he supported her with one arm, and with the other hand grasped the tiller.

"Is there danger?" whispered she faintly.

"No, dearest, none. I'll bale out the water when the wind lulls a little. Sit close up here, and all will be well."

The boat, however, deeply laden, no longer rose over the waves, but dipped her bow and took in more water at every plunge.

"Tell me this hand is mine, my own dearest Florence--mine for ever, and see how it will nerve my arm. I am powerless if I am hopeless. Tell me that I have something to live for, and I live."

"Oh, Harry, is it when my heart is dying with fear that you ask me this?

Is it generous--is it fair? There! the sail is gone! the ropes are torn across."

"It is only the jib, darling, and we shall be better without it. Speak, Florence! say it is my own wife I am saving--not the bride of that man, who, if he were here, would be at your feet in craven terror this instant."

"There goes the mast!"

At the word the spar snapped close to the thwart and fell over the side, carrying the sail with it. The boat now lay with one gunwale completely under water, helpless and water-logged. A wild shriek burst from the girl, who thought all was lost.

"Courage, dearest--courage! she'll float still. Hold close to me and fear nothing. It is not Loyd's arm that you have to trust to, but that of one who never knew terror!"

The waves surged up now with every heaving of the boat, so as to reach their b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and, sometimes striking on the weather-side, broke in great sheets of water over them.

"Oh, can you save us, Harry--can you save us?" cried she.

"Yes, if there's aught worth saving," said he, sternly. "It is not safety that I am thinking of; it is what is to come after. Have I your promise? Are you mine?"