Kitabı oku: «The Red Derelict», sayfa 21

That night Develin Hunt died.

Chapter Forty.
Conclusion

“Oh, how good you have been to us! No; really, when I want to find words – well, I simply can’t.”

“Then don’t try. That’s the simplest way out of the difficulty, isn’t it?” answered Wagram, with a smile.

Delia Calmour shook her head, a puzzled little frown contradicting, as it were, the soft light that was in her eyes, and a certain tender curving of the lips. Her gaze swept over the network of sunlight glinting on the sward beneath the arching oaks, then rested on the adjacent palisade enclosing the African animals, whose quaint bellow would every now and then vie with the shout of the cuckoo to break the stillness of the lustrous summer air. She thought of herself – now enabled to make more than a comfortable living by turning her musical talents to account; of Clytie, doing exceedingly well in her own line; of raffish Bob, removed from Bassingham influences and third-rate Pownall and Skreet, to be given every chance at a fair salary with a first-class legal firm in London; of the three younger ones at school again, only at far better schools than they had ever dreamed of before – and, thus thinking, she did not exaggerate in declaring that she could not find words to express her appreciation to the man beside her – to whom all this was due. And again she repeated this.

“My dear child,” he answered, “haven’t I told you before that it’s our duty to help each other in this world as far as lies in our power? At any rate you seemed to bear in mind that principle when you literally forced the skipper of the Runic to put back because you had glimpsed some unknown poor devil left on board the derelict. Eh?”

“That’s different – quite different.”

Again she felt strangely tongue-tied. The past couple of years flashed through her mind, and how they had seemed to her to contain but one consideration, but one all-engrossing thought – the man now at her side. How their lives seemed bound up together from their first sudden and semi-tragical meeting! Even upon the vast wilderness of the wide deep they had been thrown together once more. And now here they were together again at dear old Hilversea – on the very spot, hallowed, as it were, within her mind, by the associations of those earlier days.

The time intervening, and the experiences it comprised, had rather enhanced than detracted from her beauty; indeed, it was not the fault of more than one pecuniarily eligible and physically attractive unit of the other sex that she was still Delia Calmour, eke of more than one of whom neither of these qualifications held good. And now here she was at Hilversea again.

She was staying at Haldane’s, and had cycled over that morning in response to a note from Wagram asking her to come and look at some old musical manuscripts he had unearthed in his library. Yet, so far, very little had been said about the manuscripts, he declaring it was much too lovely a morning to sit indoors; and the manuscripts were always with them, but the fine weather was not. Now he did not seem inclined to help her through her unwonted fit of silence as he strolled by her side; calm, self-possessed, the very personification of ease and strength and dignity, she was thinking.

“So you are happy in your new line, Delia?” he said at last. “And comfortable? Sure you are quite that?”

“Of course I am – all that – thanks to you,” she answered, throwing an unconscious warmth into her voice.

“That’s rather a pity, because I was going to suggest that you should change it.”

“Change it?” she echoed, looking up at him wonderingly.

“Yes. It is only a suggestion, for, after all, I daresay in your eyes I am only a solemn sort of old fogey. But, darling, I seem to have learnt to love you very dearly indeed, and have been wondering if you would consent to make my life entirely and completely happy. I remember you asking me once – I believe it was here on this very spot – whether I didn’t sometimes find life too good to be real; do you remember? Well, now, I want you to make it so. I believe I could make you very happy – we seem to have got to know each other well enough by this time to warrant me in thinking so. Now, child, what do you say?”

The girl seemed incapable of saying anything. It was as though the gates of a blissful paradise had opened to receive her. She seemed to sway unsteadily. Her lips were parted and her breathing came quickly, but in her wide eyes was a whole world of adoring affection, which was in itself sufficient answer without mere words.

“I loved and adored you from the very moment we first met,” she managed to whisper as she sank into his embrace. “But you? What can you have seen in me? You?”

“Darling, I suppose I have learnt to recognise pure gold when I see it. So you will make life too good for me after all?”

“Too good for you? But it is going to be too good for me, it seems. Yet listen. You won’t be offended if I tell you something.”

“Offended? No, child; never shrink from telling me anything through fear of that. What is this ‘something’?”

“There was a time when I thought some great trouble had come upon you; of course, I could not even guess at its nature. Well, whatever that trouble might have been, then was the time I would have loved you most, if possible, no matter what it was. If it had been – I am only putting a case, mind – that which should have turned the whole world against you, that is the time I should have gloried to stand by your side. You are not offended with me for saying this?”

He laughed – lightly, happily.

“No, child. Well, you have guessed rightly. There was a trouble; black, overwhelming it seemed, as death. Now it has passed – by the mercy of God, passed for ever. Some day I may tell it you, perhaps, but not now. This is the time only for happiness.”

Happiness! In saying what she had just said Delia had not overstated the case by a single word. Had he come to her ruined, crushed by some unknown weight, even with the whole world against him, and said what he had just said she would have reckoned life almost too good to live. But now, to spend the rest of her life at his side here at beautiful, enchanted Hilversea, his happiness her life’s object – ah! the vista thus opened was too golden, too glowing, too complete. The very perfection of it frightened her as being too perfect for such an imperfect state. Happiness!

“What does all this long silence cover, dearest?” he said at last, for he had been watching with a smile the swift transitions of thought which had chased each other across the beautiful, expressive face. “I believe I know,” looking at his watch. “You were going to say you must get back to the Haldanes or they’d be wondering what had become of you. Well, they’ll have to wonder. You must stay and take care of me this morning – get your hand in a little, you know. This afternoon we’ll go over, and – tell them.”

Note. – The Red Derelict was never again sighted. Whether the impact of the Runic’s collision with her had sent the ghostly hulk far down into the green depths for ever must remain a mystery. She had delivered up her message, and was gone.