Complete Works of Bram Stoker (292 page)

‘Tell me, dear child!’

And then in broken words shyly spoken, and spoken in such a way that the silences were more eloquent than the words, the girl conveyed what was in her heart.  The other listened, now and again stroking the beautiful hair.  When all was said, there was a brief pause.  The Silver Lady spoke no word; but the pressure of her delicate hand conveyed sympathy.

In but a half-conscious way, in words that came so shrinkingly through the darkness that they hardly reached the ear bent low to catch them, came Stephen’s murmured thought:

‘Oh, if he only knew!  And I can’t tell him; I can’t! dare not!  I must not.  How could I dishonour him by bearing myself towards him as to that other . . . worthless . . . !  Oh! the happy, happy girls, who have mothers . . . !’  All the muscles of her body seemed to shrink and collapse, till she was like an inert mass at the Silver Lady’s feet.

But the other understood!

 After a long, long pause; when Stephen’s sobbing had died away; when each muscle of her body had become rigid on its return to normal calm; the Silver Lady began to talk of other matters, and conversation became normal.  Stephen’s courage seemed somehow to be restored, and she talked brightly.

Before they parted the Silver Lady made a request.  She said in her natural voice:

‘Couldst thou bring that gallant man who saved so many lives, and to whom the Lord was so good in the restoration of his sight, to see me?  Thou knowest I have made a resolution not to go forth from this calm place whilst I may remain.  But I should like to see him before he returns to that far North where he has done such wonders.  He is evidently a man of kind heart; perhaps he will not mind coming to see a lonely woman who is no longer young.  There is much I should like to ask him of that land of which nothing was known in my own youth.  Perhaps he will not mind seeing me alone.’  Stephen’s heart beat furiously.  She felt suffocating with new hope, for what could be but good from Harold’s meeting with that sweet woman who had already brought so much comfort into her own life?  She was abashed, and yet radiant; she seemed to tread on air as she stood beside her friend saying farewell.  She did not wish to speak.  So the two women kissed and parted.

It had been arranged that two days hence the Stonehouse party were to spend the day at Lannoy, coming before lunch and staying the night, as they wanted in the afternoon to return a visit at some distance to the north of Lannoy.  Harold was to ride over with them.

When the Varilands party arrived, Stephen told them of Sister Ruth’s wish to see Harold.  Pearl at once proffered a request that she also should be taken at some other time to see the Silver Lady.  Harold acquiesced heartily; and it was agreed that some time in the late afternoon he should pay the visit.  Stephen would bring him.

Strangely enough, she felt no awkwardness, no trepidation, as they rode up the steep road to the Mill.

When the introduction had been effected, and half an hour had been consumed in conventional small talk, Stephen, obedience to a look from the Silver Lady, rose.  She said in they most natural way she could:

‘Now Sister Ruth, I will leave you two alone, if you do not mind.  Harold can tell you all you want to know about Alaska; and perhaps, if you are very good, he will tell some of his adventures!  Good afternoon, dear.  I wish you were to be with us to-night; but I know your rule.  I go for my ride.  Sultan has had no exercise for five days; and he looked at me quite reproachfully when we met this morning.  Au revoir, Harold.  We shall meet at dinner!’

When she had gone Harold came back from the door, and stood in the window looking east.  The Silver Lady came and stood beside him.  She did not seem to notice his face, but in the mysterious way of women she watched him keenly.  She wished to satisfy her own mind before she undertook her self-appointed task.

 Her eyes were turned towards the headland towards which Stephen on her white Arab was galloping at breakneck speed.  He was too good a horseman himself, and he knew her prowess on horseback too well to have any anxiety regarding such a rider at Stephen.  It was not fear, then, that made his face so white, and his eyes to have such an illimitable sadness.

The Silver Lady made up her mind.  All her instincts were to trust him.  She recognised a noble nature, with which truth would be her surest force.

‘Come,’ she said, ‘sit here, friend; where another friend has often sat with me.  From this you can see all the coastline, and all that thou wilt!’  Harold put a chair beside the one she pointed out; and when she was seated he sat also.  She began at once with a desperate courage:

‘I have wanted much to see thee.  I have heard much of thee, before thy coming.’  There was something in the tone of her voice which arrested his attention, and he looked keenly at her.  Here, in the full light, her face looked sadly white and he noticed that her lips trembled.  He said with all the kindliness of his nature, for from the first moment he had seen her he had taken to her, her purity and earnestness and sweetness appealing to some aspiration within him:

‘You are pale!  I fear you are not well!  May I call your maid?  Can I do anything for you?’  She waved her hand gently:

‘Nay!  It is nothing.  It is but the result of a sleepless night and much thought.’

‘Oh!  I wish I had known!  I could have put off my visit; and I could have come any other time to suit you.’  She smiled gently:

‘I fear that would have availed but little.  It was of thy coming that I was concerned.’  Seeing his look of amazement, she went on quickly, her voice becoming more steady as she lost sight of herself in her task:

‘Be patient a little with me.  I am an old woman; and until recently it has been many and many years since the calm which I sought here has been ruffled.  I had come to believe that for me earthly troubles were no more.  But there has come into my life a new concern.  I have heard so much of thee, and before thy coming.’  The recurrence of the phrase struck him.  He would have asked how such could be, but he deemed it better to wait.  She went on:

‘I have been wishful to ask thy advice.  But why should not I tell thee outright that which troubles me?  I am not used, at least for these many years, to dissemble.  I can but trust thee in all; and lean on thy man’s mercy to understand, and to aid me!’

‘I shall do all in my power, believe me!’ said Harold simply.  ‘Speak freely!’  She pointed out of the window, where Stephen’s white horse seemed on the mighty sweep of green sward like a little dot.

‘It is of her that I would speak to thee!’  Harold’s heart began to beat hard; he felt that something was coming.  The Silver Lady went on:

‘Why thinkest thou that she rideth at such speed?  It is her habit!’  He waited.  She continued:

‘Doth it not seem to thee that such reckless movement is the result of much trouble; that she seeketh forgetfulness?’  He knew that she was speaking truly; and somehow the conviction was borne upon him that she knew his secret heart, and was appealing to it.  If it was about Stephen!  If her disquiet was about her; then God bless her!  He would be patient and grateful.  The Quaker’s voice seemed to come through his thought, as though she had continued speaking whilst he had paused:

‘We have all our own secrets.  I have had mine; and I doubt not that thou hast had, may still have, thine own.  Stephen hath hers!  May I speak to thee of her?’

‘I shall be proud!  Oh! madam, I thank you with all my heart for your sweet kindness to her.  I cannot say what I feel; for she has always been very dear to me!’  In the pause before she spoke again the beating of his own heart seemed to re-echo the quick sounds of Stephen’s galloping horse.  He was surprised at the method of her speech when it did come; for she forgot her Quaker idiom, and spoke in the phrasing of her youth:

‘Do you love her still?’

‘With all my soul!  More than ever!’

‘Then, God be thanked; for it is in your power to do much good.  To rescue a poor, human, grieving soul from despair!’  Her words conveyed joy greater than she knew.  Harold did not himself know why the air seemed filled with sounds that seemed to answer every doubt of his life.  He felt, understood, with that understanding which is quicker than thought.  The Silver Lady went on now with a rush:

‘See, I have trusted you indeed!  I have given away another woman’s secret; but I do it without fear.  I can see that you also are troubled; and when I look back on my own life and remember the trouble that sent me out of the world; a lonely recluse here in this spot far from the stress of life, I rejoice that any act of mine can save such another tragedy as my own.  I see that I need not go into detail.  You know that I am speaking truth.  It was before you came so heroically on this new scene that she told me her secret.  At a time when nothing was known of you except that you had disappeared.  When she laid bare her poor bleeding heart to me, she did it in such wise that for an instant I feared that it was a murder which she had committed.  Indeed, she called it so!  You understand that I know all your secret; all her part in it at least.  And I know that you understand what loving duty lies before you.  I see it in your eyes; your brave, true eyes!  Go! and the Lord be with thee!’  Her accustomed idiom had returned with prayer.  She turned her head away, and, standing up, leaned against the window.  Bending over, he took her hand and said simply:

‘God bless you!  I shall come back to thank you either to-night or to-morrow; and I hope that she will be with me.’

He went quickly out of the room.  The woman stood for long looking out of the window, and following with tear-dimmed eyes the movement of his great black horse as he swept across country straight as the crow flies, towards the headland whither Stephen had gone.

* * * * *

Stephen passed over the wide expanse without thought; certainly without memory of it.  Never in her after-life could she recall any thought that had passed through her mind from the time she left the open gate of the windmill yard till she pulled up her smoking, panting horse beside the ruin of the fisher’s house.

Stephen was not unhappy!  She was not happy in any conscious form.  She was satisfied rather than dissatisfied.  She was a woman!  A woman who waited the coming of a man!

For a while she stood at the edge of the cliff, and looked at the turmoil of the tide churning on the rocks below.  Her heart went out in a great burst of thankfulness that it was her hand which had been privileged to aid in rescuing so dear a life.  Then she looked around her.  Ostensibly it was to survey the ruined house; but in reality to search, even then under her lashes, the whole green expanse sloping up to the windmill for some moving figure.  She saw that which made her throat swell and her ears to hear celestial music.  But she would not allow herself to think, of that at all events.  She was all woman now; all-patient, and all-submissive.  She waited the man; and the man was coming!

For a few minutes she walked round the house as though looking at it critically for some after-purpose.  After the wreck Stephen had suggested to Trinity House that there should be a lighthouse on the point; and offered to bear the expense of building it.  She was awaiting the answer of the Brethren; and of course nothing would be done in clearing the ground for any purpose till the answer had come.  She felt now that if that reply was negative, she would herself build there a pleasure-house of her own.

Then she went to the edge of the cliff, and went down the zigzag by which the man and horse had gone to their gallant task.  At the edge of the flat rock she sat and thought.

And through all her thoughts passed the rider who even now was thundering over the green sward on his way to her.  In her fancy at first, and later in her ears, she could hear the sound of his sweeping gallop.

 It was thus that a man should come to a woman!

She had no doubts now.  Her quietude was a hymn of grateful praise!

The sound stopped.  With all her ears she listened, her heart now beginning to beat furiously.  The sea before her, all lines and furrows with the passing tide, was dark under the shadow of the cliff; and the edge of the shadow was marked with the golden hue of sunset.

And then she saw suddenly a pillar of shadow beyond the line of the cliff.  It rested but a moment, moved swiftly along the edge, and then was lost to her eyes.

But to another sense there was greater comfort: she heard the clatter of rolling pebbles and the scramble of eager feet.  Harold was hastening down the zigzag.

Oh! the music of that sound!  It woke all the finer instincts of the woman.  All the dross and thought of self passed away.  Nature, sweet and simple and true, reigned alone.  Instinctively she rose and came towards him.  In the simple nobility of her self-surrender and her purpose, which were at one with the grandeur of nature around her, to be negative was to be false.

Since he had spoken with the Silver Lady Harold had swept through the air; the rush of his foaming horse over the sward had been but a slow physical progress, which mocked the on-sweep of his mind.  In is rapid ride he too had been finding himself.  By the reading of his own soul he knew now that love needs a voice; that a man’s love, to be welcomed to the full, should be dominant and self-believing.

When the two saw each other’s eyes there was no need for words.  Harold came close, opening wide his arms, Stephen flew to them.

In that divine moment, when their mouths met, both knew that their souls were one.

LADY ATHLYNE

Stoker’s tenth novel was first published in 1908 by William Heinemann of London. It tells the story of Joy Ogilvie, the beautiful young daughter of a Kentucky colonel.  She plays a joke on her friends, pretending to be “Lady Athlyne”, after hearing a story about the dashing Irish nobleman Lord Athlyne. Little does she know that half a world away, the real Lord Athlyne is a prisoner of war in a South African camp, where word reaches him that a woman in America is impersonating his wife.