The Obstacle Race, Ethel May Dell [best biographies to read TXT] 📗

would you have gone ahead with it--or not?"
He asked the question with a certain wariness, as a player who stakes more on a move than he would care to lose. The glint of the gambler shone in his curious eyes. His right hand was thrust into his pocket.
Fielding was watching that right hand narrowly, but Dick's look, grim and unwavering, never left his opponent's face.
"Why do you want to know?" he demanded.
Saltash's smile deepened, became a grimace, and vanished.
"I will tell you when you have answered me," he said. "But whatever you say will be used against you,--mind that!"
"What do you mean?" Dick said.
"Never mind what I mean! Just answer me! Answer me now! Would you have married her under those circumstances? Or would you--have thrown her over--to me?"
Dick's eyes blazed. "You damn blackguard! Of course I should have married her!"
"You are sure of that?" Saltash said.
"Damn you--yes!" With terrific force Dick answered him. He stood like an animal ready to spring, goaded to the end of his endurance, yet waiting--waiting for something, he knew not what.
If Saltash had smiled then he would have been upon him in an instant. But Saltash did not smile. He knew the exact value of the situation, and he handled it with a sure touch. With absolute gravity he took his hand from his pocket.
Fielding took a swift step forward, but with an odd twist of the brows Saltash reassured him. He held out a revolver to Dick on the palm of his hand.
"Here you are!" he said. "It's fully loaded. If you want to shoot a friend, you'll never have a better chance. Mr. Fielding, will you kindly look the other way?"
Dead silence followed his words. The lamplight flickered on Dick's face, throwing into strong relief every set grim feature. His lips were tightly compressed--a single straight line across his stern face. His eyes never varied; they were almost unbearably bright. They held Saltash's with a tensity of purpose that was greater than any display of physical force. It was as if the two were locked in silent combat.
It lasted for many seconds, that mute and motionless duel, then very suddenly from a wholly unexpected quarter there came an interruption. Columbus, sensing trouble, pushed his stout person between the two men and leapt whining upon Dick, pawing at him imploringly with almost human entreaty.
It put an end to the tension. Dick looked down involuntarily and meeting the dog's beseeching eyes, relaxed in spite of himself. Saltash uttered a curt laugh and returned the revolver to his pocket.
"That settles that," he observed. "Columbus, my acknowledgments--though I am quite well aware that your eloquent appeal is not made on my behalf! You know what the little beggar is asking for, don't you?"
Dick laid a soothing hand on the grizzled head. "All right, Columbus!" he said.
Saltash's smile leapt out again. "Oh, it's all right, is it? I am to have a free pardon then for boosting you over your last fence?"
Again Dick's eyes came to him, and a very faint, remote smile shone in them for an instant in answer. Then, very steadily, without a word, he held out his hand.
Saltash's came to meet it. They looked each other again in the eyes--but with a difference. Then Saltash began to laugh.
"Go to her, my cavalier! You'll find her--waiting--on the _Night Moth_."
"Waiting?" Dick said.
"For Columbus," said Saltash with his most derisive grin, and tossed Dick's hand away.


CHAPTER X
THE LAST FENCE

A chill breeze sprang up in the dark of the early morning and blew the drifting fog away. The stars came out one by one till the whole sky shone and quivered as if it had been pricked by a million glittering spear-points. The tide turned with a swelling sound that was like a vast harmony, formless, without melody, immense. And in the state-cabin of the _Night Moth_, the woman who had knelt for hours by the velvet couch lifted her face to the open port-hole and shivered.
She had cast her hat down beside her, and the cold night-wind that yet had a faint hint of the dawn in it ruffled the soft hair about her temples. Her face was dead-white, drawn with unspeakable weariness, with piteous lines about the eyes that only long watching can bring. She looked hopeless, beaten.
The shaded light that gleamed down upon her from the cabin-roof seemed somehow to hurt her, for after a second or two she leaned to one side without rising from her knees and switched it off. Then with her hands tightly clasped, she gazed out over the dim, starlit sea. The mystery of it, the calm, the purity, closed round her like a dream. She gazed forth into the great waste of rippling waters, her chin upon her hands.
Softly the yacht lifted and sank again to the gentle swell. The wild waves of a few hours before had sunk away. It was a world at peace. But there was no peace in the eyes that dwelt upon that wonderful night scene. They were still with the stillness of despair.
The cold air blew round her and again she shivered as one chilled to the heart, but she made no move to pick up the cloak that had fallen from her shoulders. She only knelt there with her face to the sea, staring out in dumb misery as one in whom all hope is quenched.
From somewhere on shore there came the sound of a clock striking the hour in clear bell-like notes. One, two, three! And then silence, with the murmur and splash of the rising tide spreading all around.
And then suddenly out of the utter quietness there came a sound--the scuttle of scampering feet and an eager whining at the door behind her. It stabbed like a needle through her lethargy. In a moment she was on her feet.
The door burst in upon her as she opened it, and immediately she was sprung upon and almost borne backwards by the wriggling, ecstatic figure of Columbus. He flung himself into her arms with yelps of extravagant joy, as if they had been parted for months instead of hours, and when, somewhat overwhelmed with this onslaught, she sat down with him on the couch, he scrambled all over her, licking wildly whatever part of her his tongue could reach.
It took some time for his rapturous greetings to subside, but finally he dropped upon the couch beside her, pressed to her, temporarily exhausted, but still wriggling spasmodically whenever her hand moved upon him. And then Juliet, for some odd reason that she could not have explained, found herself crying in the darkness as she had not cried all through that night of anguish.
Columbus was deeply concerned. He crept closer to her, pawed at her gently, stood up and licked her hair. But she wept on helplessly for many seconds with her hands over her face.
It was Columbus who told her by a sudden change of attitude that someone had entered at the open door and was standing close to her in the dark. She started upright very swiftly as the dog jumped down to welcome the intruder. Vaguely through the dimness she saw a figure and leapt to her feet, her hands tight clasped upon her racing heart.
"Charles! Why have you come here?"
There was an instant of stillness, then a swift movement and a man's arms caught her as she stood and she was a prisoner.
She made a wild struggle for freedom. "No--no!" she panted. "Let me go!"
But he held her fast,--so fast that she gasped and gasped for breath,--saying no word, only holding her, till suddenly she cried out sharply and her resistance broke.
She hid her face against him. "You!" she said. "You!"
He held her yet in silence for a space, and through the silence she heard the beat of his heart; quick and hard, as if he had been running a race. Then over her bowed head he spoke, his voice deep, vibrant, seeming to hold back some inner leaping force.
"Didn't I tell you I should follow you--and bring you back?"
She shrank at his words. "I can't come--I can't come!" she said.
"You will come, Juliet," he said quietly.
"No--no!" She lifted her head in sudden passionate protest. "Not to be tortured! I can't face it! Before God I would rather--I would rather--die!"
He answered her with flame that leaped to hers. "And don't you think I would rather die than let you go?"
"Ah!" she said, and no more; for the fierce possession of his hold checked all remonstrance.
She sought to hide her face again, but he would not suffer it, and in the end with an anguished sound she ceased to battle with him and sank down in utter weakness in his hold.
He lifted her then, but he did not kiss her. He found the sofa and laid her down upon it. Then she heard him feeling along the wall for the switch.
She reached out a quivering hand and pressed it, then as the light glowed she turned from him, covering her eyes from his look. He stood for a few seconds gazing down at her, almost as if at a loss.
And while he so stood, there arose a sudden deep throbbing that mingled with the splash of water, and the yacht ceased to rise and fall and thrilled into movement.
Juliet gave a great start. "Dick! What are they doing? Oh, stop them--stop them!"
He stooped and caught her outflung hands. His eyes looked deeply into hers. "They are obeying--my orders," he said.
"Yours?" She gazed up at him incredulously, shivering all over as if in an ague.
His face told her nothing. It was implacable, granite-like, save for the eyes, and from those she shrank uncontrollably as though they pierced her.
"Yes, mine," he said sombrely. "I have--something to teach you, Juliet--something that you can only learn--alone with me. And till you have learnt it, there will be no going back."
She bent her head to avoid the unwavering directness of his look. "You--are going to hurt me--punish me," she said under her breath.
His hands still held hers, and strangely there was something sustaining as well as relentless in their grasp.
"It may hurt you," he said. "I don't feel I know you well enough to judge. As to punishing you--" he paused a moment--"well, I think you have punished yourself enough already."
Again a great tremor went through her,--a tremor that ended in a sob. She bent her head a little lower to hide her tears. But they fell upon his hands and she could not check them. Her throat worked convulsively, resisting all her efforts and self-control. She became suddenly blinded and overwhelmed by bitter weeping.
"Ah, Juliet--Juliet!" he said, and went down on his knees before her, folding her closely, closely to his breast....
It seemed to her a very long time later that she found herself lying exhausted against the sofa-cushions, feeling his arm still about her and poignantly conscious of his touch. His other hand was pressed upon her forehead, and her tears had ceased. She could not remember that he had spoken a single word since he had taken her into his arms, neither had he kissed her, but all her fear of him was gone.
Through the open port-hole there came to her the swish of water, and she heard the throb and roar of the engines like the sound of a distant train in a tunnel. Moved by a deep impulse that came straight from her soul, she took the hand that lay upon her brow and drew it downwards first to her lips, holding it there with closed eyes while she kissed it, then