The Black Pearl

by Mrs. Wilson Woodrow

  CHAPTER XIV

  The dawns rose, the suns set, after the avalanche as before, and Pearland Seagreave, alone in the cabin, isolated from the world of humanbeings, took up their lives together, together and yet apart, in thegreat, encompassing silence of this white and winter-locked world.

  Winter-locked, yes, but all the mighty, unseen forces of Nature were settoward spring. Nothing could stop or retard them now. Under sullen,lowering skies; beneath the blasts which swept down from the peaks; inspite of flying snow; unseen, unsuspected, in the darkness and stillnessand warmth of the earth, the transformation was going on. The tender,young banners of green were almost ready for the decking of the trees,and almost completed was the weaving of pink and blue and lavendercarpets of wild flowers for the hillsides.

  And the spring that had arisen glorious in Pearl's heart when she hadrealized that she and Harry were prisoners of the avalanche was stillresurgent. For the first day or two of their isolation she lived,breathed, moved in the splendor of her heart's dream. It encompassed herwith the warmth and radiance of a flood of sunshine.

  In spite of her protests and appeals, Seagreave would not permit her tohelp much with the household tasks, but busied himself almost constantlywith them, maintaining with a sort of methodical pleasure the inspiredorder of his cabin. It is possible that he gave to each task a moreexhaustive and undeviating attention than even he considered necessary,and this to cover the sense of embarrassment he felt in adapting himselfnot only to this pervasive, feminine presence, but to the exigencies ofan unwonted companionship hedged about with restrictions.

  He often felt as if he were entertaining a bird of brilliant tropicalplumage in his cabin, as if it had flown thither from glowing southernlands and brought with it sensuous memories of color and fragrance, andwafts of sandalwood.

  Sometimes he and Pearl walked about on the barren hillside, constantlywashed more bare of snow by the daily rains which had begun to fall, andsometimes he read aloud to her a little, but in spite of Pearl'sintelligence she had never cared much for books. She craved no record ofanother's emotions and struggles and passions. No life at second handfor her. She was absorbed in the living.

  But if in the day there were many tasks to be done, and Harry couldoccupy more or less time in the hewing of wood and carrying of water,and all of the practical duties which that phrase may stand for, therewere long evenings when he and Pearl sat in the firelight, their speechand their silence alike punctuated by the wail of the mountain windabout the cabin and the singing of the burning logs upon the hearth.

  And it was during those evening hours that Seagreave felt most theshyness which her constant presence induced in him. By day he busiedhimself in securing her comfort, but by night he was tormented by hisown chivalrous and fastidious thought of her, by his desire to reassureher mind, without words, if possible, as to the consequences of theirisolation.

  But sometimes after he had lighted her candle and she had saidgood-night, and had entered the little room where she slept, he wouldeither sit beside the glowing embers or else build up afresh the greatfire which was never permitted to die out night or day during the wintermonths, his thoughts full of her, dwelling on her, clinging to thememories of the day.

  Jose's personality had been neither ubiquitous nor dominating. Seagreavehad noticed him no more about the cabin than he had the little mountainbrook which purled its way down the hill; but now his housemate wasfeminine, and with every passing hour he was more conscious of it. Atnight, after Pearl had gone to bed, he felt her presence as definitelyas though she were still there. Some quality of her individualitylingered and haunted the room and haunted his thoughts as the sweet,unfamiliar odor of an exotic blossom permeates the atmosphere andremains, even when the flower is gone.

  And as for Pearl, whether she walked on the barren hillsides or dreamedby the fire, or stood at the window watching Harry chop wood or carrywater from the rushing mountain brook, her mind held but one thought,her heart but one image--him.

  The studious abstraction, the ordered calm which characterizedSeagreave's cabin, made fragrant by burning pine logs and fresh with thecold winds from the mountain tops, had altered by imperceptible andsubtle gradations until the atmosphere was now strangely electrical,throbbing with vital life, glowing with warmth and color. In outersemblance nothing was changed, no more than was the appearance of theworld outside, and yet beneath the surface of the lives in the cabin, asbeneath the surface of the earth without, all the mighty forces ofNature were bent to one end.

  Without, the spring thaws which were to melt down the mountain of snowin the ravine below were no longer presaged, but at hand. The rain fellfor hours each day, but the dull and weeping skies, the heavy air,oppressed Seagreave's spirits and made him now sad and listless, but forthe most part curiously restless.

  Strive as he would, he could not escape nor ignore it, this atmosphereof the exotic which filled his cabin, the atmosphere of Pearl's beautyand magnetism and of her love for him. He did not recognize it as that.He only felt it as some strange, disturbing element which, while ittroubled his thought, yet claimed it. His growing love for her filledhim with a sort of terror. It seemed to him a mounting tide which wouldsweep him, he knew not whither, and with all the strength of his naturehe struggled to hold to the resolution he had made the first day theywere alone in the cabin, not to press his love upon her until she hadleft the shelter of his roof and was back again with her father.

  One evening the two sat in the cabin together, as usual, Seagreave onone side of the fire reading--that is, his eyes were upon the book andhe seemed apparently absorbed in its contents--but in reality his entirethought was focused upon Pearl, who sat opposite him in a low chair, herhands clasped idly in her lap, and he struggled desperately to maintainhis attitude of friendly comradeship when he addressed her.

  The leaping of the flames on the hearth made quaint arabesques of shadowon the rough walls and the wind sighed and sobbed in the chimney. Thusthey sat for an hour or two in silence and then Seagreave lifted hiseyes and stole one of his swift and frequent glances at Pearl. Somethinghe saw riveted his attention and he continued to gaze, forgetful of hisbook, of his past resolutions, of anything in the world but her.

  She was just loosening the cord which bound the throat of a small blackleather bag, and while he watched her she poured its contents into herlap and sat bending over a handful of loose and sparkling jewels. Shewas not aware of his scrutiny, but sat in complete absorption, her dark,shining head bent over them, lifting them, turning them this way andthat to catch the firelight, letting them trickle through her long,brown fingers.

  There, sparkling in the fire-glow, was the desire of the world, thewhite, streaming flame of diamonds, the heart's blood of rubies, andsapphires--the blue of the sea and the sky--all their life and radianceimprisoned in a dew-drop.

  "How beautiful they are!" he cried involuntarily, but what he reallymeant was, "How beautiful you are!"

  She started and looked up at him in surprise. "Yes, they are," she said."I have been gathering them for a long time. There are only a few, butevery one is flawless."

  "I never considered jewels before." He bent forward the better to seethem. "I have often seen women wear them, but I just regarded them as apart of their decoration. Yet I can understand now why you love them.They are very beautiful, unset that way." He looked at her deeply. "ButI believe it is for some reason deeper than that that they have afascination for you. You are like them."

  She let them fall like drops of rainbow water through her fingers; thenshe lifted her lashes. "Am I hard and cold like them?" She sent dartingand dazzling full in his eyes her baffling, heart-shivering smile.

  He did not answer at once, and she, still gazing at him, saw that hepaled visibly, every tinge of color receding from his face; his eyes,deep and dark, held hers, as if reading her soul and demanding that shereveal the strange secrets of her nature.

  The forces of life ready to burst through the harsh crust of the earthwit
hout and express themselves in the innocent glory of flower and grassand tender, green leaves, and the sound of birds, were now seekingexpression through denser and more complex human avenues. All the love,all the longing which Seagreave had so sternly suppressed during thesedays he and Pearl had spent together, rose in his heart and threatenedto sweep away in a mighty tide of elemental impulses all of thoseresolutions of restraint to which he had clung so hardly.

  He arose and leaned his arm on the mantel-piece, still gazing at her asif he could never withdraw his eyes. "You are so--so beautiful," hestammered, scarcely knowing what he said. "The world will claim you. Youhave so much to give it and all your nature, all your heart turns to it.You will soon forget this hut in the mountains, and--and all that it hasmeant." He buried his head in his arms.

  She, too, rose and laid the handful of her jewels on the table withoutanother glance at them. "These mountains!" She threw wide her arms anddrew a long, ecstatic breath. She came near to him and touched his arm."I hated them once, I love them now." She smiled up at him, her darklyslumbrous, scarlet-lipped smile.

  He leaned toward her as if to clasp her close, but the vows he had swornto himself a thousand times since she had been in his cabin alone withhim still held him. Slowly he drew back and with all the strength of hisnature fought for self-control. He called upon every force of his will,and in that supreme moment his face hardened to the appearance of asculptured mask; all of its finely-drawn outlines seemed set in stone.

  She turned angry shoulders to him and stirred the stones on the tablewith impatient fingers until they rolled about, flashing darts of light.Symbols of power, of material and deadening splendor; eternalaccompaniments of imperial magnificence! The sapphires sang triumph, thediamonds conquest, the rubies passionate and fulfilled love.

  "They are what you really care for." He spoke huskily; his voice soundedthick and uncertain in his ears. "That and--and your wonderful dancing,and applause--and success and money. It's natural that you should--butit all makes me realize--clearly, that I can't even try to force myselfinto your life. There's no place for me. Even--even if you werekind--you sometimes seem to--to--to suggest that you would be--I'd bejust a useless cog, soon to be dropped. It's all complete without me.But, for God's sake, I'm begging you, I'm begging you, Pearl, not to bekind to me for the rest of the time that we're here together."

  "And what about me?" she flashed. "You've thought everything out fromyour own side, and you've just been telling it. Don't you think I've gota side, too? I guess so."

  He looked at her in surprise, the emotion that had changed and brokenhis expression fading into wonderment and puzzle.

  "What do you mean?" he asked.

  "Kiss me, and I'll show you," she said audaciously. All the allurement,the softness and sweetness of the south was in her mouth and eyes.

  "How can we go on like this?" His voice was a mere broken whisper. Heyearned to her, leaned toward her, and yet refrained from holding her.

  "Like _this_," she murmured, and threw her arms about him and laid herhead on his heart, her face upturned to his.

  "I told you"--so close was she held that she scarcely knew that she wasbreathing--"I told you--that if I once held you in my arms I'd never letyou go."

  "You may have told yourself; you never told me before. But I'm content."

  "Content! That's no word for this," he cried between kisses. Themounting tide he had feared had become a mighty torrent sweeping awayall his carefully built up mental barriers, and with that obliteratingflood came a sense of power and freedom. All the youth in his heart roseand claimed its share of life and love and happiness.

  "Let me go," she said at last, and drew away from him, flushed as a dawnand rapturous as a sunrise.

  "No, never again," and stretched out his arms, but she slipped behindthe table, putting it between them. "Sit down," she commanded, "andbuild up the fire. I want to talk, talk a long time, all night maybe."

  "I hope so," he said ardently, and, obeying her, stooped to place freshlogs on the embers. "But what is there to talk about? We've said andwill continue to say all there is in the world worth saying. I love you.Do you love me?"

  "Maybe you won't want to say that after you've heard me." She hadleaned forward, her arms on her knees, her eyes on the flames whichleaped from dry twig to dry twig of the burning logs and on the showerof sparks which every minute or so swept up the chimney.

  "You hit it off pretty well when you said that all I really cared forwas money and jewels and my dancing and the big audiences and all that."Her eyes had narrowed so that the gleaming light that shone through herlashes was like a mere line of fire. "You see, I got to play the game. Igot to. Nothing but winning and winning big ever's going to suit me. Isaw that when I was awful young. I sort of looked out on life and itseemed to me that most people spent their lives like flies, flyingaround a while without any purpose, trying to buzz in the sun if theycould, and by and by dropping off the window pane."

  "Nothing but winning will suit you," he said drearily. "You are onlyrepeating what I told you." All the life, the passion had gone out ofhis voice. "And I'm no prize, heaven knows!"

  "I ain't through yet," she said. "I never did talk much. I guess I'mgoing to talk more to-night than I ever talked in my life, but I alwayssaw everything that was going on around me, and it didn't take me longto make out that all you'll get in life is a kick and a crust if youhaven't got some kind of power in your hands."

  "God, you're hard, hard as iron!" The room rang with the echoes of hismirthless laughter. "Five, three minutes ago, you were in my arms, soft,yielding, trembling, giving me back kiss for kiss, and now you sitthere expounding your merciless philosophy."

  "It ain't me that's merciless," she returned, apparently unmoved, "it'slife. You think my dancing's great, so does everybody; so it is. Well,it didn't grow. I made it." Here she lifted her head with pride, andfolded her arms on her chest. "Maybe you don't think it took sometraining. Maybe you don't think it took some will and grit when I was alittle kid to keep right on at my exercises when I ached so bad that thetears would run down my cheeks all the time I was at them. My motherknew that you had to begin young and keep at 'em all the time, but momnever would have had the nerve to keep me to it. She used often to crywith me.

  "When I was a girl I'd liked to have had a good time, just in thatcareless way like other girls, but I gave that up, too, so's I couldwork at my dancing. When I'd get tired and blue I'd look at the stonesI'd begun to collect with the money I'd earned. I'm hard, yes, I guessyou're right. I guess you got to have a streak of hardness in you to beone of the biggest dancers in the world, or to be the biggest anything,but"--here she ran across the room and was down on her knees beside hischair--"I'm not hard any longer. Those jewels there," pointing to thetable behind her, "they don't mean a thing to me any longer, nor mydancing, either, nor money, nor applause, nor anything in the world butyou."

  He shrank away from her as if he feared the subduing magnetism of hertouch. "The useless cog to drop away when you get tired of him! I toldyou your life was all rounded and complete."

  "It's not," she cried passionately, "without love. Without your love.I've got it and you can't take it away from me."

  He brushed the wing of hair back from his pallid face. "My love!" Hisvoice seemed to drip the bitterness of gall. "Where in heaven's name isthere any place for it?"

  "There isn't much room for anything else," she returned, "and that's thetruth. I've told you that all those things that you say make my lifecomplete, don't mean that," she snapped her long fingers, "not that tome any more. I've told you that I'd give them all up for you if youasked me, but," and here she swept to her feet, as if upborne by a rushof earnestness so intense and deeply felt that it was in itself apassion, "but I'll give 'em up, for it's a lot to give, for the man Iknow you are and--and not for the man that's been shirking life."

  Since the first moments after she had begun to voice her experiences,and what he called her merciless philosophy, he had
crumpled down in hischair, and when she had sprung up, he had risen perfunctorily andwearily to his feet, but at her last words he had straightened up as ifinvoluntarily every muscle grew tense, an outward and visible indicationof his mental attitude. Inherited and traditional pride was in thehaughty and surprised uplift of his head; a bright flush had risen onhis cheek and his eyes sparkled with a thousand wounded and angryreflections.

  Whether or not she had intended to produce this effect by her words,she was undaunted by it, and went on: "Jose tells me that you got a bigplace in England, just waiting for you to come and claim it, and youquit it and everything there because a girl turned you down. It was surea baby act."

  "I--" he began to interrupt her. There were few men who would have caredto ignore that chilled steel quality of Seagreave's voice or, for thematter of that, the chilled steel look on his face.

  But there were certain emotions the Pearl had never known, and theyincluded remorse and fear. "I ain't finished yet," the gesture withwhich she imposed his silence held her accustomed languor. "I got to saythat the man--that's you--that fought all through the Boer war was noshirker, and the man who did some of the things you did in India--yougot some kind of a medal, didn't you?--what was it Jose calledyou?--soldier of fortune--well, you weren't a quitter, anyway."

  She stretched out her arms to him and smiled, her compellingheart-shattering smile. Ardor enveloped her like an aura; the beauty andcolor of her were like fragrance on the air. "That's the kind of man Iwant to marry, Harry, not a man that's willing to live outside of lifeand work, and stay dead and buried here in these mountains."

  He did not bend to her by an inch. Her smiles and her ardor splinteredagainst chilled steel and fell unheeded. "Is there anything else?" heasked, after a slight interval of silence, during which he had theappearance of waiting with a pronounced and punctilious courtesy forfurther words from her.

  She made no answer, merely continued to look at him, but he, apparentlyunmindful and indifferent to that gaze, lifted his book from the tablebeside him and, still standing, because she did so, began to read.

  For a moment or two she seemed dazed and then, with trembling fingers,she gathered up her jewels and placed them in the little black bag.

  This task accomplished, she started with all the scornful grace, theindifferent languor of a Spanish duchess to sweep from the room, but inpassing him and noting him still absorbed in his book, her hot bloodflushed her cheek, her eyes glittered with angry fire. Her slight pausecaused him to look up and, seeing the anger on her face, he smiledamusedly, insufferably. The next second she sprang at him like a cat andslapped him across his insolently smiling face, and then flung Spanishoaths at him with such force and heat that they seemed to splutter infalling upon the chill of the air. Then she flashed from the room.

  But the maddening smile still lingered on his lips as he bent to pick upthe book her blow had sent flying to the floor. And, still smiling, hestood for a moment caressing the white dents her fingers had left on hischeek. Finally he replenished the fire, filled and lighted his pipe and,drawing his chair near to the hearth, sat, thinking, thinking, thegreater part of the night.

  Pearl was out early the next morning, and walked halfway down the hill.When she returned to the cabin she found Seagreave sitting in his chairby the hearth as if he had not moved during the night; his haggard gazewas fixed on the dead ashes of the fire. Without speaking to him, Pearlstooped down and, with some paper and bits of wood, began to build up ablaze again.

  He peered at her a moment as if she were a vision, then got up verystiffly as if he had not moved for hours, and began to assist her,mechanically following the usual routine of preparing breakfast.

  When it was ready they sat down opposite each other as was their custom,and made a pretense of eating. With the exception of a perfunctoryremark or so the meal passed in silence. Pearl evidently had nointention of apologizing for her behavior of the night before. Hermanner toward him was that of one who had relegated him to the positionof the tables and chairs, and intended to take no more notice of him.

  Taking it for granted that that was the relation she wished sustainedbetween them, Seagreave gravely adopted her attitude, and for the nextfew days if they spoke at all it was principally about the work that wasgoing on down at the crevasse. Never had Harry occupied himself soconstantly and so feverishly, for the most part outside the cabin,chopping and sawing diligently at a huge pile of wood, and in hisintervals of leisure he spent a great deal of time down the hill by themountain of snow, watching its almost magical vanishing.

  "There is a great crowd down at the ravine to-night," he said to Pearl,one evening at supper. "They are working with torches, and I think theywill probably have some kind of a bridge swung over by midnight. Imanaged to signal to them a while ago, and they know that we are safenow. If--if you want to sit up to-night," his voice sounded strained andperfunctory, "I think you could possibly get over before morning."

  The shadow which had fallen upon her face in the last day or twodeepened a little. "It will be cold out there at night." She caught atthe first excuse which came into her mind. "It will be better to waitand go down after breakfast."

  He acquiesced with a nod, but made no answer in words, and soon after heleft the room, and she, later, peeping cautiously out from the curtainbehind the window, saw him walking back and forth before the cabin.

  It was an hour or two later when he opened the door and entered. She didnot hear him. She was standing, her elbow on the mantel-piece and hercheek on her hand, looking down into the fire. His footsteps roused herfrom her reverie and she looked up, in that moment of surprise,forgetful of self and therefore self-revealing. Thus she stood for onefleeting second, holding him with her smile, her whole being seeming torush out and meet and encompass him and embrace him. Then her eyelashesdrooped long and black on her cheek, and her face was all aflame withcolor.

  He stood still a second, breathing hard. Then from the shadow he hurledhimself into that zone of glowing firelight where she stood. A whiteflame passed over his face and lighted his eyes with that burning,incandescent glow that only those cold, blue eyes can show. Primeval,all preliminary bowing and scraping in the minuet of wooing ignored, hesaw his heart's desire and seized it, lifting the Pearl in his arms,crushing her against his breast, until she, dazed for the moment, laycaptured and captive.

  But her second of surprised, involuntary non-resistance served her well.Harry looked into her eyes and forgot his vigilance; and with a twistPearl slipped through his arms and was across the room. She stoodagainst the wall of the cabin, her head thrown back, a smile on herwhite lips, her eyes daring him.

  Seagreave took no dares. It was a part of his creed. He was across theroom in a step, his arms outstretched as if to clasp her.

  But Pearl held him with her eyes until at least she covered her facewith her hands and wept and leaned toward him, and again Seagreavecaught her in his arms with a murmur of passionate and inarticulatewords. "I love you, I love you," he whispered, his lips seeking hers.

  "Pearl, forgive me. I--I--forgot myself, forgive me. Why, you are assafe here as in your father's cabin. It will never happen again. I'llnever touch you again unless you let me. Why, Pearl," with a tremulousattempt at a joke, "for the rest of the time that we're here you cankeep me locked up in the other room if you want to, and just pass myfood through the door now and then when you feel like it."

  "Oh, Harry," she was still sobbing, "I'm such a devil. All my life I'vebeen trying to see what I could get. I set out to make everything andeverybody pay me, and I never got anything but chaff; money and jewelsand applause--all chaff. The only happiness is giving, and I want togive, give, give to you. That's what I been longing to do ever since Iloved you, and all I could do was to call you names--a quitter and ashirker." She wept afresh. "And the worst of it is I mean it, I wish Ididn't, but I do."

  "But you were right," he said, "good and right, too. You hurt my man'svanity, and I got nasty--sarcastic, you know. I've go
t you to thankforever for bringing myself right home to me--showing me to myself. Iwas a morbid, love-sick boy, who indulged in so much self-pity that hethought he was a very fine romantic figure, running off from hisresponsibilities and burying himself in the ends of the earth."

  "I was jealous, too, of that girl you quit things for, that girl thatwas like violets and white roses. I ain't like 'em."

  "Jealous! You! It wasn't long that I remembered her, but you were rightagain--I liked that life. I'd got used to it. The other kind seemedimpossible to me--I've been a quitter and a shirker--just what youcalled me--but I'm going back home to take it all up again, or if youwould rather, I'll stay here and work mines in these mountains, or helpreclaim the desert--if you'll marry me, Pearl."

  "But I'm the Black Pearl--a dancer. I don't see how I can begin to beanything else now; but I will, I'll be anything you ask me, Harry,"throwing her arms about his neck, "I will."

  He laughed and held her closer still. "I'll never ask you to be anythingelse. 'The Black Pearl--a dancer,' that's enough for me. You shall haveall the joy of your gift--its expression. I'm not such a selfish animalas to ask you to give that up, so that I can keep you--you beautiful,tropical bird--in a cage, just to gratify my sense of possession--andwatch you mope and pine, because I've kept you from your flights. No,sweetheart, you shall dance, and have your big audiences that inspireyou, and the applause you love ... and then you'll come back to me, andI'll be waiting for you and working--always working. I promise you that,Pearl. But," fixing determined eyes on her, "I'll not dangle aroundafter you, and patch up your rows with your managers, and engage yourmaids, nor be known as the Black Pearl's husband, by the Lord, no! I'lldo my own work in the world, and stand and fall by my own merit, ifthere's any in me. But kiss me, Pearl, kiss me."

  "Then it's the last kiss till to-morrow," she smiled, "for it's pastmidnight now."

  The morning dawned, a blare of sunlight. Pearl, glancing from the windowjust before they ate their early breakfast, could see that bridge was inplace. Both she and Harry were quiet. It was the last meal together inthe cabin, and more than once tears filled her eyes and ran down hercheeks as she made a pretense of eating. "They're happy tears, Harry,honest, they are," she assured him. "I guess I'm kind of locoed at thethought of seeing Pop and Bob and Hughie again. Come on, let's hurrydown now and meet them." She stood up and drained her coffee cup andthen threw her cape about her. "Come on." She held out her hand to himand smiled.