Chapter VII: The Land of Moonshine

The dew was thick on the orchard grass as Maud ran down under the trees. An orange moon was rising behind them and the shadows lay deep and mysterious across her path. The wind blew fresh from the sea, sweeping the wide down, bringing relief after the heat of the day.

She was trembling as she went, yet as she neared the trysting-place she checked herself and walked with some dignity. She did not want to arrive in a state of agitation. She was sure he would be waiting for her. She was sure, she was sure!

Yes, he was there. They saw each other simultaneously, and in a moment he had sprung to meet her with the ardour she knew so well. Her hands were in his almost in the same instant. He held them closely, lingeringly.

"At last!" he said.

Rather breathlessly she made response. "Yes, but I can't stay. I want to speak to you--only to speak to you--about my mother."

"Good heavens!" said Saltash. His hold relaxed for a second, then tightened again. "My dear girl, how absurdly prosaic of you to come to me on such a night as this and talk about anybody or anything on earth besides ourselves! I won't allow it and that's a fact."

She laughed a little unsteadily. "But it is just that I have come for, Charlie; and nothing else. And I can't stay either. You must let me say what I have to say quickly, and then go."

He drew her gently through the gate and led her to the summer-house close by that overlooked the down. The moonlight filtered in upon them through a lattice-work of leaves.

"Don't tremble, _ma belle reine_!" he said. "You shall go whenever you will. But need we waste to-night? I will call upon you formally in the morning if you desire it and talk about anything you wish."

She sat down with the feeling of one who moves beneath a spell, and after a moment he sat beside her, still lightly holding her hand. Yes, she was at liberty to go whenever she would; and yet she could not, she could not!

The witchery of the hour was upon her. It was not the first time that they had sat thus, he and she, hand in hand, wrapped in the mystery and romance of a summer night. Her thoughts went back with a bitter pang to the old dear dream. Ah, why had she sent him from her? She had obeyed the instincts of her soul, perchance; but she had wrecked her life to do it. Why? Why?

He was speaking, leaning to her, his swarthy face against her shoulder. "Maud, let us forget the world to-night! Never mind what brought you! Just remember that you are here--in the land of moonshine--with me!"

She turned at his voice; she yielded ever so slightly to the subtle drawing of his hand. "But let me speak, Charlie!" she whispered. "I am so troubled. I want your help."

"It is yours for ever," he made answer. "You have but to command."

"That is a promise?" she urged.

"My solemn promise," said Saltash. "Now--shall we forget?"

His voice was full of a tenderness that stirred her to the depths. A piteous sob caught her throat; she put up a swift, silencing hand. "Oh, if I only could!" she said.

"You can," said Saltash. He moved also, slid a gentle arm about her. "Close your eyes, dear heart, and forget all your troubles!" he whispered. "I can charm them all away."

She shook her head. Her eyes were full of tears. "I am caught in the whirlpools, Charlie," she whispered back. "I shall never get away. All the romance is gone out of my life--for ever."

"I can bring it back," he said.

Her tears overflowed. She could not hold them back. "I wish I were dead!" she said.

The arm that encircled her grew gradually tense like the tightening of a coil. "Come to me!" he murmured. "Listen to your own heart and come! What does it matter what lies behind? Put it all away from you--and come!"

She suffered his arm, but she yielded herself no further to it. "I can't," she said hopelessly. "I--can't."

"Why not?" he urged. "Haven't I waited long enough? Are you afraid?"

She bent her head, covering her face. "Oh yes, I am afraid--afraid. Life is so dreadful. It is full of--terrible consequences."

It had come upon her so suddenly. She had as it were stepped out of prison into a world of seething temptation with the passing of that gate. Never before had she felt so lured and drawn by that which was evil. The swift spell had caught her in a moment, and it held,--how it held her!

His arms were about her. He drew her to his breast. "What do I care for consequences?" he whispered passionately. "Come to me, queen of my heart! I have been cheated of my right long enough. Yes, my right--my right! You have belonged to me always, and you know it. Oh, what are we to fight against destiny? Do you think I don't know how you have suffered? Do you think I haven't suffered too? All because you loved me--and sent me away! You will never do that again, queen of the roses. You have called me back to you. You are mine. Turn your face to me, sweetheart! There is no love in all the world like ours. How can we resist it? It is greater than we ourselves."

But she kept her face covered, hidden low against the throbbing of his heart.

His words went into silence--a silence that was stark and cold--the very shadow of Despair. It bound them both for a while; then shudderingly she spoke.

"It is no good, Charlie. I can't do it--now. If I had known--three months ago--what was before me--I think I would have come. But the whirlpools caught me--drew me down. I realized too late--too late. I can't come now. I am bound--hand and foot--in outer darkness."

"I can deliver you," he said.

"No one can deliver me." The bitter conviction of her voice silenced even him. "It is what you foretold. I am a slave, and I have got to bear the yoke of my slavery. I shall never be free now, never as long as I live. I am bound to the oar by chain that--even you--could never break."

She moved in his arms; she raised her head at last.

"Say good-bye to me, Charlie!" she whispered, "and--go!"

He caught her to him. He looked closely into her quivering face. "You love me still?" he whispered, with passionate insistence. "Tell me you love me still!"

She seemed to hesitate as if reluctant or irresolute. She seemed about to draw back. And then something magnetic in his face or his touch must haw moved her; or was it the weird enchantment of the night? She gave him her lips without a word, and so he had his answer....

There came the click of the orchard-gate, the sound of a quiet voice.

"Come round to the summer-house, Doc! There's a fine view from there."

Maud stiffened in Saltash's arms as if turned to stone.

He set her free with the utmost coolness and rose. The next instant she was sitting alone in the chequered moonlight. He had vanished without sound round the side of the arbour furthest from the orchard-gate.

She sat with a thumping heart, waiting. There had been something almost eerie in his disappearance. She knew he must be standing pressed against the wall by which she sat, but yet his going had been so silent that--even though her lips still burned with the memory of his kiss--she felt curiously as though the whole episode were as incredible as a dream.

She made no attempt to move. Her limbs felt like lead. Only her heart raced so madly that she gasped for breath.

She heard again the quiet, drawling voice. "The gate was open. Very likely my wife is here."

A great shiver went through her. She felt suddenly cold from head to foot. She clasped her hands tightly together, striving with all her strength for self-control.

There fell the tread of feet upon the grass, and Capper's tall thin form came round the side of the arbour. He saw her in a moment, for the moonlight was on her face. She stared at him with hunted eyes. Where was Jake?

He accosted her at once. "Ah, Mrs. Bolton, so here you are! Say, do you think you're wise to sit here with the frogs? It's cold, you know. Where's that wrap you were going to fetch?"

She stretched out a hand to him instinctively. "Yes, I am cold," she said, and her teeth chattered upon the words. "Is--is--Jake there?"

Capper glanced over his shoulder. "He was there. But--Columbus!--how cold you are, child! You will be sick if you stay here. Come! Let me take you in!"

He drew her to her feet; then, as she tottered, leaning upon him, passed a wiry arm about her. As he did so, she saw Jake come round the other corner of the arbour and stop upon the threshold.

She turned suddenly giddy and clung weakly to Capper. He had seen; he must have seen! But why had there been no encounter--no challenge of any sort? Where--where was Charlie?

She went through an agony of apprehension during those few moments. She thought the awful suspense would kill her.

Then Jake's square figure advanced, blocking the opening. His voice pierced through her agitation.

"So you have found her, Doc. I thought she would be hereabouts. I see there is a mist coming up. We had better go in."

There was nothing in the words, but she shivered uncontrollably at the sound of them. That slow soft speech was as a veil that hid unutterable things. With a great effort she mastered her weakness and spoke.

"Yes, it has turned quite cold. I think it is the dew. Did you come here to admire the view, Dr. Capper? It is one of the best in the neighbourhood. I often think I should like to come and camp out here on these summer nights."

"You would want plenty of blankets," said Capper. "There is a creepy chill in the atmosphere that reminds one of the fall." He took his arm from about her, and drew her hand through it. "Come, we must go. It isn't right for you to take risks. A glass of wine before you turn in is what I should recommend."

She made an attempt to laugh, but she did not feel it to be a success. "That is Jake's invariable remedy for all ills," she declared. "But I thought it had ceased to be popular with your profession."

She emerged from the summer-house, holding his arm, but a new strength born of terrible expediency seemed to have entered into her. She moved without effort, Jake stepping back to let her pass.

"Do admire the beauties of it before we go!" she urged. "It is so romantic by this light. The Brethaven lighthouse is over there. It has a revolving light. Do you see it?" She turned and spoke over her shoulder. "Jake, come and show Dr. Capper all the different points of interest."

But Capper would have none of it. "I shan't be satisfied till I've got you indoors," he said. "What have you got on your feet? Nothing but light slippers? Say, Mrs. Bolton, you ought to take more care of yourself."

"Oh, but I never have," she protested. "I am wonderfully strong. Jake will tell you that."

"I think as Dr. Capper thinks," Jake said. "You ought to be more careful."

She felt herself flush. Now that her agitation had subsided, she was capable of feeling resentment once more, and there was that in the quiet utterance that stung her.

She made no rejoinder, but her face burned hotter and hotter as they began to walk back. She was sure--quite sure--that she had been made a subject of discussion between her husband and Dr. Capper.

Jake walked on her other side. She had the feeling of being a prisoner between two warders. And she wondered if Charlie were watching with that mocking humour in his eyes.

She set her teeth as the memory of his voice, his touch, went through her. She wondered with a sinking heart what she would have to tell him when they met again....