It is only meet that I should wish my brother, who stole my wife, much happiness for the next twelve months."
"He took the coat from my hands.
""You admire the coat? Ah! true, the colour is lilac." He held it out at arm"s length. Doubtless I had been staring at the coat, but I had not even given it a thought. "The lilac shadow!" he went on, with a sneer. "Believe me, it is the purest coincidence." And as he prepared to slip his arm into the sleeve I flashed the knife out of my belt. He was too quick for me, however. He flung the coat over my head. I felt the knife twisted out of my hand; he stumbled over the chair; we both fell to the ground, and the next thing I know I was running over the bracken towards Merchant"s Point with Robert Lovyes hot upon my heels.
He was of a heavy build, and forty years of age. I had the double advantage, and I ran till my chest cracked and the stars danced above me. I clanged at the bell and stumbled into the hall.
""Mrs. Lovyes!" I choked the name out as she stepped from the parlour.
""Well?" she asked. "What is it?"
""He is following--Robert Lovyes!"
"She sprang rigid, as though I had whipped her across the face. Then, "I knew it would come to this at the last," she said; and even as she spoke Robert Lovyes crossed the threshold.
""Molly," he said, and looked at her curiously. She stood singularly pa.s.sive, twisting her fingers. "I hardly know you," he continued. "In the old days you were the wilfullest girl I ever clapped eyes on."
""That was thirteen years ago," she said, with a queer little laugh at the recollection.
"He took her by the hand and led her into the parlour. I followed.
Neither Mrs. Lovyes nor Robert remarked my presence, and as for John Lovyes, he rose from his chair as the pair approached him, stretched out a trembling hand, drew it in, stretched it out again, all without a word, and his face purple and ridged with the veins.
""Brother," said Robert, taking between his fingers half a gold coin, which was threaded on a chain about Mrs. Lovyes" wrist, "where is the fellow to this? I gave it to you on the Gambia river, bidding you carry it to Molly as a sign that I would return."
"I saw John"s face harden and set at the sound of his brother"s voice.
He looked at his wife, and, since she now knew the truth, he took the bold course.
""I gave it to her," said he, "as a token of your death; and, by G.o.d!
she was worth the lie!"
"The two men faced one another--Robert smoothing his chin, John with his arms folded, and each as white and ugly with pa.s.sion as the other.
Robert turned to Mrs. Lovyes, who stood like a stone.
""You promised to wait," he said in a constrained voice. "I escaped six years after my n.o.ble brother."
""Six years?" she asked. "Had you come back then you would have found me waiting."
""I could not," he said. "A fortune equal to your own--that was what I promised to myself before I returned to marry you."
""And much good it has done you," said John, and I think that he meant by the provocation to bring the matter to an immediate issue. "Pride, pride!" and he wagged his head. "Sinful pride!"
"Robert sprang forward with an oath, and then, as though the movement had awakened her, Mrs. Lovyes stepped in between the two men, with an arm outstretched on either side to keep them apart.
""Wait!" she said. "For what is it that you fight? Not, indeed, for me. To you, my husband, I will no more belong; to you, my lover, I cannot. My woman"s pride, my woman"s honour--those two things are mine to keep."
"So she stood casting about for an issue, while the brothers glowered at one another across her. It was evident that if she left them alone they would fight, and fight to the death. She turned to Robert.
""You meant to live on Tresco here at my gates, unknown to me; but you could not."
""I could not," he answered. "In the old days you had spoken so much of Scilly--every island reminded me--and I saw you every day."
"I could read the thought pa.s.sing through her mind. It would not serve for her to live beside them, visible to them each day. Sooner or later they would come to grips. And then her face flushed as the notion of her great sacrifice came to her.
""I see but the one way," she said. "I will go into the house that you, Robert, have built. Neither you nor John shall see me, but none the less, I shall live between you, holding you apart, as my hands do now. I give my life to you so truly that from this night no one shall see my face. You, John, shall live on here at Merchant"s Point.
Robert, you at your cottage, and every day you will bring me food and water and leave it at my door."
"The two men fell back shamefaced. They protested they would part and put the world between them; but she would not trust them. I think, too, the notion of her sacrifice grew on her as she thought of it. For women are tenacious of sacrifice even as men are of revenge. And in the end she had her way. That night Robert Lovyes nailed the boards across the windows, and brought the door-key back to her; and that night, twenty years ago, she crossed the threshold. No man has seen her since. But, none the less, for twenty years she has lived between the brothers, keeping them apart."
This was the story which Mr. Wyeth told me as we sat over our pipes, and the next day I set off on my journey back to London. The conclusion of the affair I witnessed myself. For a year later we received a letter from Mr. Robert, asking that a large sum of money should be forwarded to him. Being curious to learn the reason for his demand, I carried the sum to Tresco myself. Mr. John Lovyes had died a month before, and I reached the island on Mr. Robert"s wedding-day.
I was present at the ceremony. He was now dressed in a manner which befitted his station--an old man bent and bowed, but still handsome, and he bore upon his arm a tall woman, grey-haired and very pale, yet with the traces of great beauty. As the parson laid her hand in her husband"s, I heard her whisper to him, "Dust to Dust."
KEEPER OF THE BISHOP.
For a fortnight out of every six weeks the little white faced man walked the garrison on St. Mary"s Island in a broadcloth frock-coat, a low waistcoat and a black riband of a tie fastened in a bow; and it gave him great pleasure to be mistaken for a commercial traveller. But during the other four weeks he was head-keeper of the lighthouse on the Bishop"s Rock, with thirty years of exemplary service to his credit. By what circ.u.mstances he had been brought to enlist under the Trinity flag I never knew. But now, at the age of forty-eight he was entirely occupied with a great horror of the sea and its hunger for the bodies of men; the frock-coat which he wore during his spells on sh.o.r.e was a protest against the sea; and he hated not only the sea but all things that were in the sea, especially rock lighthouses, and of all rock lighthouses especially the Bishop.
"The Atlantic"s as smooth as a ballroom floor," said he. It was a clear, still day and we were sitting among the gorse on the top of the garrison, looking down the sea towards the west. Five miles from the Scillies, the thin column of the Bishop showed like a cord strung tight in the sky. "But out there all round the lighthouse there are eddies twisting and twisting, without any noise, and extraordinary quick, and every other second, now here, now there, you"ll notice the sea dimple, and you"ll hear a sound like a man hiccoughing, and all at once, there"s a wicked black whirlpool. The tide runs seven miles an hour past the Bishop. But in another year I have done with her." To her Garstin nodded across from St. Mary"s to that grey finger post of the Atlantic. "One more winter, well, very likely during this one more winter the Bishop will go--on some night when a storm blows from west or west-nor"west and the Irish coast takes none of its strength."
He was only uttering the current belief of the islands. The first Bishop lighthouse had been swept away before its building was finished, and though the second stood, a fog bell weighing no less than a ton, and fixed ninety feet above the water, had been lifted from its fittings by a single wave, and tossed like a tennis-ball into the sea. I asked Garstin whether he had been stationed on the rock at the time.
"People talk of lightships plunging and tugging at their cables," he returned. "Well, I"ve tried lightships, and what I say is, ships are built to plunge and tug at their cables. That"s their business. But it isn"t the business of one hundred and twenty upright feet of granite to quiver and tremble like a steel spring. No, I wasn"t on the Bishop when the bell went. But I was there when a wave climbed up from the base of the rock and smashed in the gla.s.s wall of the lantern, and put the light out. That was last spring at four o"clock in the morning.
The day was breaking very cold and wild, and one could just see the waves below, a lashing tumble of grey and white water as far as the eye could reach. I was in the lantern reading "It"s never too late to mend." I had come to where the chaplain knocks down the warder, and I was thinking how I"d like to have a go at that warder myself, when all the guns in the world went off together in my ears. And there I was dripping wet, and fairly sliced with splinters of gla.s.s, and the wind blowing wet in my face, and the lamp out, and a bitter grey light of morning, as though there never, never had been any sun, and all the dead men in the sea shouting out for me one hundred feet below," and Garstin shivered, and rose to his feet. "Well, I have only one more winter of it."
"And then?" I asked.
"Then I get the North Foreland, and the trippers come out from Margate, and I live on sh.o.r.e with my wife and--By the way, I wanted to speak to you about my boy. He"s getting up in years. What shall I make of him? A linen-draper, eh? In the Midlands, what? or something in a Free Library, handing out Charles Reade"s books? He"s at home now.
Come and see him!"
In Garstin"s quarters, within the coastguard enclosure, I was introduced to his wife and the lad, Leopold. "What shall we call him?"
Mrs. Garstin had asked, some fifteen years before. "I don"t know any seafaring man by the name of Leopold," Garstin had replied, after a moment of reflection. So Leopold he was named.
Mrs. Garstin was a buxom, unimaginative woman, but she shared to the full her husband"s horror of the sea. She told me of nights when she lay alone listening to the moan of the wind overhead, and seeing the column of the Bishop rock upon its base, and of mornings when she climbed from the sheltered barracks up the gorse, with her heart tugging in her breast, certain, certain that this morning, at least, there would be no Bishop lighthouse visible from the top of the garrison.
"It seems a sort of insult to the works of G.o.d," said she, in a hushed voice. "It seems as if it stood up there in G.o.d"s face and cried, "You can"t hurt me!""
"Yes, most presumptuous and provoking," said Garstin; and so they fell to talking of the boy, who, at all events, should fulfil his destiny very far inland from the sea. Mrs. Garstin leaned to the linen-drapery; Garstin inclined to the free library.
"Well, I will come down to the North Foreland," said I, "and you shall tell me which way it is."
"Yes, if--" said Garstin, and stopped.
"Yes, if--" repeated his wife, with a nod of the head.
"Oh! it won"t go this winter," said I.
And it didn"t. But, on the other hand, Garstin did not go to the North Foreland, nor for two years did I hear any more of him. But two years later I returned to St. Mary"s and walked across the beach of the island to the little graveyard by the sea. A new tablet upon the outer wall of the church caught and held my eye. I read the inscription and remained incredulous. For the Bishop still stood. But the letters were there engraved upon the plate, and as I read them again, the futility of Garstin"s fears was enforced upon me with a singular pathos.