He tried to fancy what his feelings might be, when again the anchor was weighed, and he should see the coast receding behind the swift _Swan_.
Could he bear it? That seemed the question. Was it possible that he should bid good-bye to this valley as he had bid good-bye to so many a fair spot before?
He tossed himself impatiently over. He could not do it. No, no, and again no! Was he Vanderdecken, that he should fly from place to place and find no rest? Was this roving so very pleasant, after all?... what had been the charm of it?... And he was certainly very lonely. Doubtless it was a selfish life. He knew he had adopted it for reason good and sufficient--a reason which had not been of his own seeking. But now----
He sprang from his sofa and wandered to and fro on the deck. That restlessness was upon him which comes to all of us, when suddenly we discover that the life which we have hitherto found sufficient is henceforth impossible to us. Looking steadily into the future, facing it squarely, as his manner was, he recoiled for a moment. For he seemed to see, in a single flash, all his life culminating in one end--all the love of his heart fixed upon one object.
How much he required of her? Suppose--suppose----Oh, fate, fate, how many possibilities arose to vex his soul! Suppose she loved Allonby.
Suppose she should never be able to care for him--Percivale. And then arose in his heart a mighty and determined will to carry this thing through, and make her love him. At that moment he felt a power surge within him which nothing could withstand. As he stood there on the deck, he was already a conqueror;--he had slain the monster--surely he could win the heart of the maiden, as all doughty champions were wont to do.
The mist was broken away now, and the roof of Edge Willoughby--the roof which sheltered Elsa--was visible to his eyes. He sent an unspoken blessing across the water towards it.
The restlessness began to subside.
He threw himself again on the sofa, and this time the wooing air seemed to creep into his brain and make him drowsy. His thoughts lost their continuity and became sc.r.a.ppy, disjointed, hazy. At last fatigue a.s.serted its empire finally. The lids closed over the steadfast eyes; and the young champion slept, with his cheek pillowed on his arm, and his strong limbs stretched out in a delicious la.s.situde.
The sailors crept, one after the other, to look upon him as he slept.
Old Muller, who had held him in his arms as a baby, gazed down at him with fond triumph. There was little he could not do, this young master of theirs, they proudly thought, and, as Muller noted the n.o.ble innocence of the sleeping face, it recalled to him vividly the deathbed of the young mother of eighteen, as she lay broken-hearted, sinking away out of life in far off Littsdoff, a remote village of north Germany. A tear slid down his weather-stained face, as he thought in his sentimental German way how proud that poor child would have been of her son could she have lived to know his future.
CHAPTER x.x.xIII.
The air broke into a mist with bells, The steeple rocked with the crowd, and cries; Had I said "Good folks, mere noise repels, But give me your sun from yonder skies,"
They had answered--"And afterwards what else?"
_The Patriot._
The inquest was held at the school-house.
For two hours the excitement in the village had been something tremendous. A huge crowd had a.s.sembled outside the school to watch the proceedings, and had recognised the various arrivals with breathless awe. First of all Mr. and Mrs. Orton, in a hired fly from Stanton, the dark and menacing brows of the lady boding ill for all her adversaries.
By special request of Mr. Fowler, who had been roused by her to the most furious pitch of which his gentle nature was capable, all tidings of Mr.
Percivale"s discoveries had been kept from them. They swept in, greeted by a faint hissing from the rural population, and Mrs. Orton broke afresh into loud grief at sight of the sheet which covered poor little G.o.dfrey"s body.
Next arrived the coroner, driven by Mr. Fowler in his own dog-cart, and two other official-looking personages, who walked straight in, while Mr.
Fowler nodded to some of those who stood near, with a steady cheerfulness so unlike his crushed depression of yesterday that a sudden wave of indefinable hope arose in the hearts of many.
Next, followed by four members of his crew, the stranger Mr. Percivale walked quietly up the hill, and in at the wicket-gate. He was very pale and there were purple marks under his eyes telling of want of sleep; but the still confidence of his manner did not by any means quench the spark that Mr. Fowler"s aspect had kindled. A faint cheer followed him as he vanished into the interior of the school-house; but in a moment he reappeared, and stood at the door gazing down the hill as if expecting some one.
And now was seen a spectacle which literally stopped the breath of the momentarily increasing crowd--a sight so unexpected, so unaccountable, that one old woman shrilly screamed out, "Lord ha" mercy on us!" and a strange thrill pa.s.sed over the a.s.sembly as a cart appeared, and stopped before the entrance. In the cart was not only the Edge Valley constable, but two from the Stanton constabulary, and in their charge was the widow Parker, in hysterics, and Saul, seated with a smile on his face, and his beautiful hair just lifted by the wind.
The sensation was tremendous; and it was greatly increased when, as the sobbing, frantic widow staggered blindly up the path, Mr. Percivale was seen to touch her kindly on the arm, and to whisper a few words which had the effect of checking her loud distress and inducing her to compose herself somewhat.
But it was not for her he had waited, for still he kept his place at the door; and presently the sound of wheels was again heard, and up the hill came the Misses Willoughby"s wagonette. As it approached, some of the spectators noticed that Mr. Percivale uncovered his bright hair, and so stood until the carriage stopped, when he went forward, cap in hand, to greet the ladies.
Miss Charlotte, Miss Emily, Miss Brabourne, and Mr. Cranmer were in the wagonette, and it was at once remarked, that, though sad, they did not seem to be in despair. All three ladies were in black, and the Misses Willoughby greeted Mr. Percivale with particular politeness and distinction.
As for him, he only saw "one face from out the thousands." She was there, her hands touched his, she walked beside him up the shingly path.
Her eyes rested on his with trust and grat.i.tude untold. It was enough.
For the moment he felt as if he had won his guerdon. They disappeared within the school-house, and the crowd outside began loudly to speculate on the turn that things were taking. Presently up the road hurried Clapp, the landlord of the "Fountain Head," his wife on his arm, both in their Sunday best, and both in such a state of excitement as rendered them almost crazy. The neighbors gathered round to hear the startling news that Mrs. Clapp had been subpoenaed as a witness in the case, though what they had to do with it they were at a loss to know, unless it were connected with the loyal William"s illegal refusal to take Mr.
and Mrs. Orton in as his guests on the previous day.
"I don"t care if they du gi" me a foine," cried he, stoutly. "A can affoard to pay it, mates, a deal better "n I can affoard to tak" vermin into ma hoose!"
A murmur of applause greeted this spirited speech, and William was plied right and left with questions. But he knew no more than they did, only, in some mysterious way, an idea gained ground amongst them that the strange owner of the white yacht had wrought a miracle, or something very like it, for the preservation of Miss Elaine.
"What shall we du, mates, if a brings her aout safe an" saound?" cried William. "Take aout the horses and drag "im home, say I."
"Get a couple o" hurdles an" chair "em," suggested another eager spirit; and then the constable came to the door, and imperatively called Mr. and Mrs. Clapp; when they had vanished, the door was shut, and a breathless hush fell upon the crowd.
Oh, the sunny silence in the old house with the terrace! Oh, the slow, slow motion of the hands of the clock as they crept round. Miss Ellen"s couch lay out in the sunshine, her wan hands were clasped, her eyes fixed on the white road which descended from the school-house.
The school was on the other side of the valley. The building itself was hidden by a thick clump of trees, but below, a long stretch of road was clearly visible, leading down past the lower extremity of the Edge Willoughby grounds. Here stood the smithy, and, just opposite that, the road widened out into a triangular s.p.a.ce, used as a village lounge of an evening when the weather was fine. Every summer there was a school feast, and all the children were marched down this road on their way to Mr. Fowler"s meadows where the feast was held; and it had been a custom, ever since Elaine was a little child, for the whole procession to halt when it came opposite the smithy, with waving banners and flying flags, and, facing the terrace, to sing a hymn for the edification of the pale invalid as she lay on her couch.
To-day, thoughts of Elsa"s childhood came thronging to Miss Ellen"s mind. She saw her once more as she used to stand in her cla.s.s, in her clean white frock and blue ribbons, with her hair waving all about her.
Now, as Miss Ellen saw clearly, the past was utterly and completely the past--gone and done away with for ever. In future it would not be in any way possible to continue the life which had flowed on so evenly for nearly fifteen years. Already the sisters talked of change, of travel.
Elsa must be taken away from the place where she had suffered so much.
Change of scene must be resorted to; everything that could be done must be done to make her forget the horror of the last few days, and restore to her nervous system its usually placid tone.
Little Miss f.a.n.n.y, who had stayed at home to keep her sister company, was trotting nervously in and out of the open door, now snipping a few withered geraniums, now mixing the chough"s food, and moving the c.o.c.katoo"s cage further into the shade. Jackie himself careered up and down in the sunshine like a contented sort of Mephistopheles. He had been down to the duck-pond, and chased away all the ducks, which was one cause of deep satisfaction to him; over and above which, the c.o.c.katoo was caged and he was free, so that he was able to march up and down under the very nose of the captive bird, deriding him both by word and gesture.
"My dear," said Miss f.a.n.n.y, sitting down with a patient sigh, "how long it seems!"
"Long? Yes!... Oh, f.a.n.n.y, if anything should have gone wrong, if any unforeseen piece of evidence----"
"My dear," said Miss f.a.n.n.y again, in a confident manner, "any unforeseen bit of evidence will be a help to our case."
"You really think so?"
"Think so? Why, the matter admits of no doubt at all. It is plain--even the poor mother can"t deny it; the boy himself admits it. He told Mr.
Percivale where to look for the cudgel with which the blow was struck."
"I should like to see Mrs. Orton"s face. I wonder how she will take it,"
murmured Miss Ellen.
The clock struck.
"How late it is!" she sighed.
"Hark! What is that?" cried Miss f.a.n.n.y. "What a strange sound! Don"t you hear it?"
"I hear something," answered the invalid, growing white, and grasping the sides of her couch with straining fingers.
It was a hoa.r.s.e deep roar, which for a moment they took to be the wind or the sea, till, as it was repeated, and again yet louder, they knew it for a sound which neither of them had ever heard before--the shouting of an excited mult.i.tude. There is perhaps nothing else in the world which so stirs the pulses, or sends the blood so wildly coursing in the veins.
Neither sister spoke a word. They held their breath, strained their eyes, and waited, while the roar swept nearer, and swelled in volume, and at last resolved itself into a tremendous "Hip--hip--hip--hurrah!"
Then, on the white stretch of road down the opposite hill, appeared a flying company of boys, madly waving caps in the air. These were but the forerunners of the great concourse behind. Edge Combe, albeit so apparently small, boasted a population of a thousand souls, and quite half of them were present that morning, besides a goodly sprinkling from Brent, Philmouth, and Stanton. On they came, moving forward like a huge, irregular wave, every hat waving, every throat yelling; and then there flashed into sight a dozen or so of stout fellows, who bore on their shoulders a young man, lifted high above the heads of the throng, a young man whose head was bare, and whose conspicuously fair head caught the light of every sunbeam.