The Firing Line Part 48

"What?" he asked, halting.

She pa.s.sed her arm through his, not gently, but her laughing voice was very friendly:

"If we jump a snake in the dark, my friend, we jump him _together_! It's like you, but your friend s.h.i.+ela won't permit it."

"Oh, it's only a conventional precaution--"

"Yes? Well, we'll take chances together.... Suppose--by the wildest and weirdest stretch of a highly coloured imagination you jumped a rattler?"

"Nonsense--"

"_Suppose_ you did?"

He said, sobered: "It would be horribly awkward for you to explain. I forgot about--"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "She walked a few paces toward the house, halted, and looked back audaciously."]

"Do you think I meant _that_! Do you think I'd care what people might say about our being here together? I--I'd _want_ them to know it!

What would I care--about--anything--then!"

Through the scorn in her voice he detected the awakened emotion; and, responsive, his pulse quickened, beating hard and heavy in throat and breast.

"I had almost forgotten," he said, "that we might dare look at things that way.... It all has been so--hopeless--lately--"

"What?... Yes, I understand."

"Do you?--my trying to let you alone--trying to think differently--to ignore all that has been said?"

"Yes.... This is no time to bring up such things." Her uneven breathing was perceptible to him as she moved by his side through the darkness, her arm resting on his.

No, this was no time to bring up such things. They knew it. And she, who in the confidence of her youth had dared to trust her unknown self, listened now to the startled beating of her heart at the first hint of peril.

"I wish I had not come," she said.

He did not ask her why.

"You are very silent--you have been so for days," she added; then, too late, knew that once more her tongue had betrayed her. "Don't answer me," she whispered.

"Why not?"

"Because what I say is folly.... I--I must ask you to release my hands.... You know it is only because I think it safer for--us; don't you?"

"What threatens _you_. Calypso?"

"Nothing.... I told you once that I am afraid--even in daylight. Ask yourself what I fear here under the stars with you."

"You fear _me_?"--managing to laugh.

"No; I dread your ally--my unknown self--in arms eternally to fight for you," she answered with forced gaiety. "Shall we kill her to-night? She deserves no consideration at our hands."

"Dear--"

"Hus.h.!.+ That is not the countersign on the firing line. Besides it is treachery, because to say that word is aiding, abetting, and giving information and comfort to our enemies. Our enemies, remember, are our other and stealthy selves." Her voice broke unsteadily. "I am trying so hard," she breathed, "but I cannot think clearly unless you help me.

There is mutiny threatening somewhere."

"I have tried, too," he said.

"I know you have. Do you suppose I have been untouched by your consideration for me all these long days--your quiet cheerfulness--your dear unselfishness--the forbidden word!--but what synonym am I to use?... Oh, I know, I know what you are doing, thinking, feeling--believe me--believe me, I know! And--it is what you must do, of course. But--if you only did not show it so plainly--the effort--the strain--the hurt--"

"Do I show it?" he asked, chagrined. "I did not know that."

"Only to me--because I know. And I remember how young you were--that first day. Your whole expression has changed.... And I know why.... At times it scarcely seems that I can bear it--when I see your mouth laughing at the world and your eyes without mirth--dead--and the youth in you so altered, so quenched, so--forgive me!--so useless--"

"To what better use could I devote it, s.h.i.+ela?"

"Oh, you don't know!--you don't know!--You are free; there are other women, other hopes--try to understand what freedom means!"

"It means--_you,_, s.h.i.+ela."

She fell silent; then:

"Wherever I turn, whatever I say--all paths and words lead back again to you and me. I should not have come."

The hard, hammering pulse in his throat made it difficult for him to speak; but he managed to force an unsteady laugh; "s.h.i.+ela, there is only one way for me, now--to fire and fall back. I've got to go up to Portlaw's camp anyhow--"

"And after that?"

"Mrs. Ascott wants a miniature Versailles. I'll show you the rough sketches--"

"And after that?"

"I've one or two promises--"

"And afterward?"

"Nothing."

"You will never--see me--again. Is that what 'nothing' means?"

They walked on in silence. The path had now become palely illumined; the sound of the surf was very near. Another step or two and they stood on the forest's edge.

A spectral ocean stretched away under the stars; ghostly rollers thundered along the sands. North and south dunes glimmered; and the hot fragrance of sweet-bay mingled with the mounting savour of the sea.

She looked at the sea, the stars, blindly, lips apart, teeth closed, her arm still resting on his.

"Nothing," she repeated under her breath; "that was the best answer....

Don't touch my hand!... I was mad to come here.... How close and hot it is! What is that new odour--so fresh and sweet--"

"China-berry in bloom--"