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Avenger, a novel by E. Phillips Oppenheim |
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Chapter 23. A Passionate Pilgrim |
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_ CHAPTER XXIII. A PASSIONATE PILGRIM It seemed to Wrayson, as by and by he began to make bolder and more rapid progress, that it was an actual fairy world into which he was passing with beating heart and this strange new sense of delicious excitement. As he drew nearer, the round Norman towers and immense grey front of the chateau began to take to themselves more definite shape. The gardens began to spread themselves out; terraced lawns, from whose flower-beds, now a blurred chaos so far as colour was concerned, waves of perfume came stealing down to him; statuary appeared, white and ghostly in the half light, and here and there startlingly lifelike; there were trimmed shrubs, and a long wall of roses trailed down from the high stone balcony. But, as yet, there was no sound or sign of human life! That was to come. Wrayson came to a pause at last. He had passed from the shelter of the woods into a laurel walk, but further than this he could not go without being plainly visible to any one in the chateau. So he waited and watched. There were lights, he could see now, behind many of the ground floor windows of the chateau, and more than once he fancied that he could catch the sound of music. He tried to fancy in which room she was, to project his passionate will through the twilight, so that she should come to him. But the curtains remained undrawn, and the windows closed. Still Wrayson waited! Then at last Providence intervened. Above the top of the woods, over on the other side of the chateau, came first a faint lightening in the sky, which gradually deepened into a glow. Slowly the rim of the moon crept up, and very soon the spectral twilight was at an end. The shadowy landscape became real and vivid. It was a new splendour creeping softly into the night. Wrayson moved a little further back into his shelter, and even as he did so one of the lower windows of the chateau was thrown open, and two women, followed by a man, stepped out. Their appearance was so sudden that Wrayson felt his breath almost taken away. He leaned a little forward and watched them eagerly. The woman, who was foremost of the little group, was a stranger to him, although her features, and a somewhat peculiar headdress which she wore, seemed in a sense familiar. She was tall and dark, and she carried herself with the easy dignity of a woman of rank. Her face was thoughtful and her expression sweet; if she was not actually beautiful, she was at least a woman whom it was impossible to ignore. But Wrayson glanced at her only for a minute. It was Louise who stood by her side!--the music of her voice came floating down to him. Heavens! had he ever realized how beautiful she was? He devoured her with his eyes, he strained his nerves to hear what they were saying. He was ridiculously relieved to see that the man who stood by their side was grey-headed. He was beginning to realize what love was. Jealousy would be intolerable. They moved about the terrace. He scarcely knew whether he hoped or feared the more that they would descend and come nearer to him. After all, it was cruelly tantalizing. He dared not disobey the Baroness, or he would have stepped boldly from his hiding-place and gone up to them. But that, by the terms of his promise, was impossible. He was to make his presence known to Louise only if he could do so secretly. He was not to accost her in the presence of any other person. It might be days or weeks before the opportunity came--or it might--it might be minutes! For, almost without warning, she was alone. The others had left her, with farewells, if any, of the briefest. She came forward to the grey stone parapet, and, with her head resting upon her hand, looked out towards the woods. His heart began to beat faster--his brain was confused. Was there any chance that she would descend into the gardens--dare he make a signal to her? Her head and shoulders were bare, and a slight breeze had sprung up during the last few minutes. Perhaps she would feel the cold and go in! Perhaps-- He watched her breathlessly. She had abandoned her thoughtful attitude and was standing upright, looking around her. She looked once at the window. She was apparently undecided whether to go in or not. Wrayson prayed then, if he had never prayed before. He didn't know to whom! He was simply conscious of an intense desire, which seemed somehow formulated into an appeal. Before he was fully conscious of it, she was coming down the steps. She stood on the edge of the lawn for a moment, as though considering; then, carefully raising her skirts in both hands, she picked her way amongst the flower-beds, coming almost directly towards him. Glancing round, he saw her objective--a rustic seat under a dark cedar tree, and he saw, too, that she must pass within a few feet of where he stood. She walked as one dreaming, or whose thoughts are far distant, her head thrown back, her eyes half closed. The awakening, when it came, was sudden enough. "Louise," he called to her softly, "Louise!" She dropped her skirts. For a moment he feared that she was going to cry out. "Who is that?" she asked sharply. "It is I, Herbert Wrayson," he answered. "Don't be afraid. Shall I come out to you, or will you come down the laurel path?" "You!" she murmured. "You!" He saw the light in her face, and his voice was hoarse with passion. "Come," he cried, "or I must fetch you! Louise! Sweetheart!" She came towards him a little timidly, her eyebrows arched, a divine smile playing about her lips. She stood at the entrance to the laurel grove and peered a little forward. "Where are you?" she asked. "Is it really you? I think that I am a little afraid! Oh!" He took her into his arms with a little laugh of happiness. Time and life itself stood still. Her feeble remonstrances were swept away in the tide of his passion. His lips hung burning against hers. "My sweetheart!" he murmured. "Thank God you came!"... She disengaged herself presently. A clock from the stables was striking. She counted the hours. "Eleven o'clock!" she exclaimed. "Herbert, how long have I been here?" "Don't ask me that," he answered. "Only tell me how long you are going to stay." "Not another minute, really," she declared. "They will be sending out search parties for me directly. And--Herbert--how did you get here?" she demanded anxiously. "I climbed over the wall," he answered cheerfully. "There didn't seem to be any other way." She seemed almost incredulous. "Didn't you see any watchmen?" she asked. "There was one at the gates," he answered. "I fancied he followed me up the road, but I gave him the slip all right." "Be careful how you go back," she begged. "This place is supposed to be closely watched." "Watched! Why?" he asked. "Are you afraid of robbers?" "How much did the Baroness tell you?" she asked. "Nothing, except that I should find you here," he declared. "She made me promise that I would wait for an opportunity of seeing you alone." "And why," she asked, "have you come?" He took her into his arms again. "I have learnt what love is," he murmured, "and I have forgotten the other things." "That is all very well," she laughed, smoothing out her hair; "but the other things may be very important to me." "A man named Stephen Heneage has taken up this Barnes affair," he answered. "He saw you leave the flats that night, and he is likely, if he thinks that it might lead to anything, to give the whole show away. He warned me to get away from England and--but you want the truth, don't you? All these are excuses! I came because I wanted you!--because I couldn't live without you, Louise! Couldn't we steal away somewhere and never go back? Why need we? We could go to Paris to-morrow, catch the Orient express the next day--I know a dozen hiding-places where we should be safe enough. We will make our own world and our own life--and forget!" "Forget!" She drew a little away from him. Her tone chilled him. "Herbert," she said, "whatever happens, I must go now--this moment. Where are you stopping?" "The _Lion d'Or_," he answered, "down in the village." "I will send a note in the morning," she said eagerly. "Only you must go now, dear. Some one will be out to look for me, and I cannot think--I must have a little time to decide. Be very careful as you go back. If you are stopped, be sure and make them understand that you are an Englishman. Good night!" He kissed her passionately. She yielded to his embrace, but almost immediately drew herself away. He clutched at her hand, but she eluded him. With swift footsteps she crossed the lawn. Just as she reached the terrace, the windows opened once more and some one called her name. "I am coming in now," he heard her answer. "It has been such a wonderful night!" _ |
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