Monica, Volume 3 (of 3)

But during those few minutes, that seemed a life-time to her, the battle had been fought out and the victory won. The old calmness had come back to her. She had not faced this hour all her life to be a coward now.

She was a Trevlyn – and when had a Trevlyn ever been known to shrink or falter before a call of duty?

Beatrice rushed back with the greatest excitement of manner.

“They have a boat, but nearly all the men are away – the strong men who could man it easily. There are a few strong lads, who are willing and eager to go, and two fishermen; but there are only six in all, and they don’t know if it is enough. Oh, dear! oh, dear! And those poor people in the ship! Must they all be drowned?”

“I think not,” answered Monica, quietly. “I think some means will be found to save them. Where is Randolph?”

Randolph was beside her next moment.

“Ah, if only I were a man,” Beatrice was saying, excitedly. “Ah! why are women so useless, so helpless? To think of them drowning within sight of land – and they say the sea does not run so very high. Oh, what will they do? They cannot let them drown! Randolph, can nothing be done?”

“Yes, something can be done,” he answered steadily and cheerfully. “The boat is being run down. It will not be difficult or dangerous to launch her in shelter of the cliff. There are six men to man it – all they want is a coxswain. Monica,” he added, turning to her, and taking both her hands in his strong clasp, “you have taught me to navigate the Bay of Trevlyn so well, that I am equal to take that task upon myself. There are lives to be saved – the danger to the rescuing party is small, they say so, and I believe they speak the truth. Will you let me go?”

She looked up to him with a mute entreaty in her eyes.

“There are lives to be saved, my Monica,” he said, with grave gentleness. “Are our brothers to go down within sight of land, without one effort on our part to save them? Have you not wept for such scenes before now? Have you no pity to-night? Monica, in that vessel on the rocks there are men, perhaps, whose wives are waiting at home for them, and praying for their safety. Will you let me go?”

She spoke at length with manifest effort, though her manner was quite calm.

“Is there no one else?”

“There is no one else.”

For perhaps ten seconds there was perfect silence between them.

“Then Randolph, I will let you go.”

He bent his head and kissed her.

“I knew my wife would bid me do my duty,” he said proudly; “and believe me, my life, the danger is not great, and already the wind seems abating. It is but a small vessel. In all probability one journey will suffice. We shall not be out of sight, save for the darkness; we shall be under the lee of the cliff for the best part of the way. The boat is sound, the men know their work. We shall soon be back in safety, please God, and then you will be glad that you let me go.”

She lifted her head and looked at him.

“Take me with you, Randolph.”

“My darling, I cannot. It would not be right. We must not load the boat needlessly, even were there no other reason. Your presence there would take away half my courage, and perhaps it might necessitate leaving behind some poor fellow who otherwise might be saved.”

Monica said no more. She knew that he spoke the truth.

Her white, still face with its stricken look, went to his heart. He knew how strangely nervous she was on wild, windy nights. He knew it would be hard for her to let him go, but she had shown herself his brave, true Monica, as he knew she would do, and now the kindest thing he could do was to shorten the parting, and return to her as quickly as his errand would allow him.

He held her a moment in his strong arms.

“Good-bye, my Monica, my own sweet wife. Keep up a brave heart. Kiss me once and let me go. Whatever happens, we are in God’s hands. Remember that always.”

She lifted her pale face, there was something strangely pathetic in its haunting beauty.

“Let me see you smile before I go. Tell me again that you bid me do my duty.”

Suddenly the old serenity and peace came back to the upturned face. The smile he asked for shone in her sweet eyes.

“Good-bye, my Randolph – my husband – good-bye. Yes, I do bid you do your duty. May God bless and keep you always.”

For a moment they stood together, heart pressed to heart, their lips meeting in one long, lingering kiss; for one moment a strange shadow as of farewell seemed to hang upon them, and they clung together as if no power on earth could separate them.

The next moment he was gone, and Monica, left alone, stretched out her hands in the darkness.

“Oh, my love! my love!”

It was the one irrepressible cry from the depths of her heart; the next moment she repeated dreamily to herself the words that had lately passed her husband’s lips:

“‘Whatever happens, we are in God’s hands. Remember that always.’ Randolph, I will! I will!”

A ringing cheer told her that the boat was off. Nobody had seen the slim figure that had slunk after Randolph down to the beach. No one, in the darkness and general excitement, had seen that same slim figure leap lightly and noiselessly into the boat, and crouch down in the extreme end of the bow.

Conrad Fitzgerald had witnessed the parting between husband and wife; he had heard every word that had passed between them; and now, as he crouched with a tiger-like ferocity in the bottom of the boat, he muttered:

“This time he shall not escape me!”

CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIFTH.

WIDOWED

The boat launched by the rescuing party vanished in the darkness. Monica stood where her husband had left her in the shelter of the cliff, her pale face turned seawards, her eyes fixed upon the glimmering crests of the great waves, as they came rolling calmly in, in their resistless might and majesty.

Beatrice had twice come back to her, to assure her with eager vehemence that the danger was very slight, that it was lessening every moment as the wind shifted and abated in force – dangerous, indeed, for the poor fellows in the doomed vessel that had struck upon the fatal reef, but not very perilous for the willing and eager and experienced crew that had started off to rescue them. Beatrice urged this many times upon Monica; but the latter stood quite still and spoke not a word; only gazed out to sea with the same strange yearning gaze that was like a mute farewell.

Was it only an hour ago that she had been with her husband at home, telling him of the dim foreboding of coming woe that had haunted her all that day? It seemed to her as if she had all her life been standing beside the dark margin of this tempest-tossed sea, waiting the return of him who made all the happiness of her life – and waiting in vain.

Beatrice looked at her once or twice, but did not speak again. Presently she moved down towards the water’s edge. Surely the boat would be coming back now!

Suddenly there was a glad shout of triumph and joy from the fisher-folk, down by the brink of the sea.

“Here she is!” “Here she comes!” “Steady, there!” “Ease her a bit!” “This way now!” “Be ready, lads!” “Here she comes!” “Now, then, all together!” “After this wave – NOW!”

Cries, shouts, an eager confusion of tongues – the grating of a boat’s keel upon the beach, and then a ringing hearty cheer.

“All safe?”

“All saved – five of them and a lad.” “Just in time only.” “She wouldn’t have floated five minutes longer.” “She was going down like lead.”

What noise and confusion there was – people crowding round, flitting figures passing to and fro in the obscurity, every one talking, all speaking together – such a hubbub as Beatrice had never witnessed before. She stood in glad, impatient expectancy on the outskirts of the little crowd. Why did not Randolph come away from them to Monica? Why did she not hear his voice with the rest? Her heart gave a sudden throb as of terror.

“Where is Lord Trevlyn?”

Her voice, sharpened by the sudden fear that had seized her, was heard through all the eager clamour of those who stood round. A gleam of moonlight, struggling through the clouds, lighted up the group for a moment. The words went round like wildfire: “Where is Lord Trevlyn?” and men looked each other in the face, growing pale with conscious bewilderment. Where, indeed, was Lord Trevlyn? He was certainly not amongst them; yet he had undoubtedly steered the boat to shore. Where was he now? Men talked in loud, rapid tones. Women ran hither and thither, wringing their hands in distressful excitement, hunting for the missing man with futile eagerness. What had happened? Where could he be?