Alcott, Louisa May - SSC 15 (48 page)

           
“Here, Sally, see to the poor thing;
shes had a rough time on’t. I’ll take care of her sweetheart—and a nice job
I’ll have, I reckon, for if he ain’t mad or drunk, he’s had a stroke of
lightnin’, and looks as if he wouldn’t get his hearin’ in a hurry,” said the
old man as he housed his unexpected guests and stood staring at Done, who
looked about him like one dazed. “You jest turn in yonder and sleep it off,
mate. We’ll see to the
lady,
and right up your boat in
the morning,” the old man added.

 
          
“Be
kind to Rose. I frightened her. I’ll not forget you. Yes, let me sleep and get
over this cursed folly as soon as possible,” muttered this strange visitor.

 
          
Done
threw himself down on the rough couch and tried to sleep, but every nerve was
overstrained, every pulse beating like a trip-hammer, and everything about him
was intensified and exaggerated with awful power. The thundershower seemed a
wild hurricane, the quaint room a wilderness peopled with tormenting phantoms,
and all the events of his life passed before him in an endless procession, which
nearly maddened him. The old man looked weird and gigantic, his own voice
sounded shrill and discordant, and the ceaseless murmur of Rose’s incoherent
wanderings haunted him like parts of a grotesque but dreadful dream.

 
          
All
night he lay motionless, with staring eyes, feverish lips, and a mind on the
rack, for the delicate machinery which had been tampered with revenged the
wrong by torturing the foolish experimenter. All night Rose wept and sang,
talked and cried for help in a piteous state of nervous excitement, for with
her the trance came first, and the afteragitation was increased by the events
of the evening. She slept at last, lulled by the old woman’s motherly care, and
Done was spared one tormenting fear, for he dreaded the consequences of this
folly on her, more than upon himself.

 
          
As
day dawned he rose, haggard and faint, and staggered out. At the door he met
the keeper, who stopped him to report that the boat was in order, and a fair
day coming. Seeing doubt and perplexity in the old man’s eye,
Done
told him the truth, and added that he was going to the
beach for a plunge, hoping by that simple tonic to restore his unstrung nerves.

 
          
He
came back feeling like himself again, except for a dull headache, and a heavy
sense of remorse weighing on his spirits, for he distinctly recollected all the
events of the night. The old woman made him eat and drink, and in an hour he
felt ready for the homeward trip.

 
          
Rose
slept late, and when she woke soon recovered herself, for her dose had been a
small one. When she had breakfasted and made a hasty toilet, she professed
herself anxious to return at once. She dreaded yet longed to see
Done
, and when the time came armed herself with pride,
feeling all a woman’s shame at what had passed, and resolving to feign
forgetfulness of the incidents of the previous night. Pale and cold as a statue
she met him, but the moment he began to say humbly, “Forgive me, Rose,” she
silenced him with an imperious gesture and the command “Don’t speak of it; I
only remember that it was very horrible, and wish to forget it all as soon as
possible.”

 
          
“All,
Rose?” he asked, significantly.

 
          
“Yes,
all. No one would care to recall the follies of a hashish dream,” she answered,
turning hastily to hide the scarlet flush that would rise, and the eyes that
would fall before his own.

 
          
“I
never can forget, but I will be silent if you bid me.”

 
          
“I
do. Let us go. What will they think at the island? Mr.
Done
,
give me your promise to tell no one, now or ever, that I tried that dangerous
experiment. I will guard your secret also.” She spoke eagerly and looked up
imploringly.

 
          
“I
promise,” and he gave her his hand, holding her own with a wistful glance, till
she drew it away and begged him to take her home.

 
          
Leaving
hearty thanks and a generous token of their gratitude, they sailed away with a
fair wind, finding in the freshness of the morning a speedy cure for tired
bodies and excited minds. They said little, but it was impossible for Rose to
preserve her coldness. The memory of the past night broke down her pride, and
Done’s
tender glances touched her heart. She half hid her
face behind her hand, and tried to compose herself for the scene to come, for
as she approached the island, she saw Belle and her party waiting for them on
the shore.

 
          
“Oh,
Mr.
Done
, screen me from their eyes and questions as
much as you can! I’m so worn out and nervous, I shall betray myself. You will
help me?” And she turned to him with a confiding look, strangely at variance
with her usual calm self-possession.

 
          
“I’ll
shield you with my life, if you will tell me why you took the hashish,” he
said, bent on knowing his fate.

 
          
“I
hoped it would make me soft and lovable, like other women. I’m tired of being a
lonely statue,” she faltered, as if the truth was wrung from her by a power
stronger than her will.

 
          
“And
I took it to gain courage to tell my love. Rose, we have been near death
together; let us share life together, and neither of us
be
any more lonely or afraid?”

 
          
He
stretched his hand to her with his heart in his face, and she gave him hers
with a look of tender submission, as he said ardently, “Heaven bless hashish,
if its dreams end like this!”