Brandon looked at her fixedly for a long time without speaking. She placed her cool hand on his forehead. His eyes closed as though there were a magnetic power in her touch. After a while, as she removed her hand, he opened his eyes again. He took her hand and held it fervently to his lips. "I know," said he, in a low, dreamy voice, "who you are, and who I am--but nothing more. I know that I have lost all memory; that there has been some past life of great sorrow; but I can not think what that sorrow is--I know that there has been some misfortune, but I can not remember what."
Beatrice smiled sadly. "It will all come to you in time."
"At first when I waked," he murmured, "and looked around on this scene, I thought that I had at last entered the spirit-world, and that you had come with me; and I felt a deep joy that I can never express. But I see, and I know now, that I am yet on the earth. Though what sh.o.r.e of all the earth this is, or how I got here, I know not."
"You must sleep," said she, gently.
"And you--you--you," he murmured, with indescribable intensity--"you, companion, preserver, guardian angel--I feel as though, if I were not a man, I could weep my life out at your feet."
"Do not weep," said she, calmly. "The time for tears may yet come; but it is not now."
He looked at her, long, earnestly, and inquiringly, still holding her hand, which he had pressed to his lips. An unutterable longing to ask something was evident; but it was checked by a painful embarra.s.sment.
"I know nothing but this," said he at last, "that I have felt as though sailing for years over infinite seas. Wave after wave has been impelling us on. A Hindu servant guided the boat. But I lay weak, with my head supported by you, and your arms around me. Yet, of all the days and all the years that ever I have known, these were supreme, for all the time was one long ecstasy. And now, if there is sorrow before me,"
he concluded, "I will meet it resignedly, for I have had my heaven already."
"You have sailed over seas," said she, sadly; "but I was the helpless one, and you saved me from death."
"And are you--to me--what I thought?" he asked, with painful vehemence and imploring eyes.
"I am your nurse," said she, with a melancholy smile.
He sighed heavily. "Sleep now," said she, and she again placed her hand upon his forehead. Her touch soothed him. Her voice arose in a low song of surpa.s.sing sweetness. His senses yielded to the subtle incantation, and sleep came to him as he lay.
When he awaked it was almost evening. Lethargy was still over him, and Beatrice made him sleep again. He slept into the next day. On waking there was the same absence of memory. She gave him some cordial to drink, and the draught revived him. Now he was far stronger, and he sat up, leaning against a tree, while Beatrice knelt near him. He looked at her long and earnestly.
"I would wish never to leave this place, but to stay here," said he. "I know nothing of my past life. I have drunk of Lethe. Yet I can not help struggling to regain knowledge of that past."
He put his hand in his bosom, as if feeling for some relic.
"I have something suspended about my neck," said he, "which is precious.
Perhaps I shall know what it is after a time."
Then, after a pause, "Was there not a wreck?" he asked.
"Yes; and you saved my life."
"Was there not a fight with pirates?"
"Yes; and you saved my life," said Beatrice again.
"I begin to remember," said Brandon. "How long is it since the wreck took place?"
"It was January 15."
"And what is this?"
"February 6. It is about three weeks."
"How did I get away?"
"In a boat with me and the servant."
"Where is the servant?"
"Away providing for us. You had a sun-stroke. He carried you up here."
"How long have I been in this place?"
"A fortnight."
Numerous questions followed. Brandon"s memory began to return. Yet, in his efforts to regain knowledge of himself, Beatrice was still the most prominent object in his thoughts. His dream-life persisted in mingling itself with his real life.
"But you," he cried, earnestly--"you, how have you endured all this? You are weary; you have worn yourself out for me. What can I ever do to show my grat.i.tude? You have watched me night and day. Will you not have more care of your own life?"
The eyes of Beatrice kindled with a soft light. "What is my life?" said she. "Do I not owe it over and over again to you? But I deny that I am worn out."
Brandon looked at her with earnest, longing eyes. His recovery was rapid. In a few days he was able to go about. Cato procured fish from the waters and game from the woods, so as to save the provisions of the boat, and they looked forward to the time when they might resume their journey. But to Brandon this thought was repugnant, and an hourly struggle now went on within him. Why should he go to England? What could he do? Why should he ever part from her?
"Oh, to burst all links of habit, and to wander far away, On from island unto island at the gateways of the day!"
In her presence he might find peace, and perpetual rapture in her smile.
In the midst of such meditations as these her voice once arose from afar. It was one of her own songs, such as she could improvise. It spoke of summer isles amidst the sea; of soft winds and spicy breezes; of eternal rest beneath over-shadowing palms. It was a soft, melting strain--a strain of enchantment, sung by one who felt the intoxication of the scene, and whose genius imparted it to others. He was like Ulysses listening to the song of the sirens. It seemed to him as though all nature there joined in that marvelous strain. It was to him as though the very winds were lulled into calm, and a delicious languor stole upon all his senses.
"Sweet, sweet, sweet, G.o.d Pan, Sweet in the fields by the river, Blinding sweet, oh great G.o.d Pan, The sun on the hills forgot to die, And the lily revived, and the dragon-fly Came back to dream by the river."
It was the [Greek: meligaerun opa], the [Greek: opa kallimon] of the sirens.
For she had that divine voice which of itself can charm the soul; but, in addition, she had that poetic genius which of itself could give words which the music might clothe.
Now, as he saw her at a distance through the trees and marked the statuesque calm of her cla.s.sic face, as she stood there, seeming in her song rather to soliloquize than to sing, breathing forth her music "in profuse strains of unpremeditated art," the very beauty of the singer and the very sweetness of the song put an end to all temptation.
"This is folly," he thought. "Could one like that a.s.sent to my wild fancy? Would she, with her genius, give up her life to me? No; that divine music must be heard by larger numbers. She is one who thinks she can interpret the inspiration of Mozart and Handel. And who am I?"
Then there came amidst this music a still small voice, like the voice of those helpless ones at home; and this voice seemed one of entreaty and of despair. So the temptation pa.s.sed. But it pa.s.sed only to be renewed again. As for Beatrice, she seemed conscious of no such effect as this.
Calmly and serenely she bore herself, singing as she thought, as the birds sing, because she could not help it. Here she was like one of the cla.s.sic nymphs--like the genius of the spot--like Calypso, only pa.s.sionless.
Now, the more Brandon felt the power of her presence the more he took refuge within himself, avoiding all dangerous topics, speaking only of external things, calling upon her to sing of loftier themes, such as those "_cieli immensi_" of which she had sung when he first heard her.
Thus he fought down the struggles of his own heart, and crushed out those rising impulses which threatened to sweep him helplessly away.
As for Beatrice herself she seemed changeless, moved by no pa.s.sion and swayed by no impulse. Was she altogether pa.s.sionless, or was this her matchless self-control? Brandon thought that it was her nature, and that she, like her master Langhetti, found in music that which satisfied all pa.s.sion and all desire.
In about a fortnight after his recovery from his stupor they were ready to leave. The provisions in the boat were enough for two weeks" sail.
Water was put on board, and they bade adieu to the island which had sheltered them.
This time Beatrice would not let Brandon row while the sun was up. They rowed at night, and by day tried to get under the shadow of the sh.o.r.e.
At last a wind sprang up; they now sailed along swiftly for two or three days. At the end of that time they saw European houses, beyond which arose some roofs and spires. It was Sierra Leone. Brandon"s conjectures had been right. On landing here Brandon simply said that they had been wrecked in the _Falcon_, and had escaped on the boat, all the rest having perished. He gave his name as Wheeler. The authorities received these unfortunate ones with great kindness, and Brandon heard that a ship would leave for England on the 6th of March.