The Boy with Wings

by Berta Ruck

  CHAPTER II

  THE SOUL OF UNDINE

  "Hul-lo!" he shouted. The echo answered as he sat in the boat staringabout him....

  Then he felt a twitch at one of his sculls. It turned in his hand; waswrenched from him.

  "What the deuce----" he began, surprised.

  Then he heard a laugh.

  "What on earth----"

  It was nothing on earth that had greeted him. It was something of thewater that laughed up into his face and called, "Hullo, husband!"

  A mermaid, a water-nymph, a little white-shouldered Undine was peepingup and mocking him! She trod water, turned over on her side, swam witheasy strokes.

  For always Gwenna had been proud of her swimming.

  She had won a medal for it at that Aberystwith school of hers; but shewanted more than a mere medal for it now. She wanted her boy to see herswimming, and to praise her stroke. She had looked forward to that. Shewanted to show him that she could make as graceful movements with herown body in the water as he could make with his biplane in the air. Shecould! He should see! She made these movements. She had thought ofmaking them--just _so_--on the morning of her marriage. Only then shehad thought it would be in the sea off Brighton beach, with wholecrowds of other stupid people about in dark-blue or Turkey-red"costumes." Here it was so much lovelier; a whole mountain-side and aclear lake to herself in which to show off her pet accomplishment to herlover. She was one innocent and pretty Vanity incarnate as she glidedalong beside his boat. She gave a quick twist. There was a commotion oftranslucent amber water, a gleam of coral white that shaded down intopeaty brown as she dived, reappearing on the other side of the boat,looking up at him, blinking as her curls streamed water into her eyes.

  His eyes, blue and direct and adoring, were upon her.

  "I say," he said admiringly, "I didn't know you could _swim_ like that.Jolly!"

  This moment of achievement was possibly the most exquisite in the wholeof Gwenna's life.

  Shaking the wet from her hair, she laughed with pure, completed,rapturous joy; glorying in her youth, in the life that charged eachlittle blue vein of her, in this power of swimming that she felt hadbeen given her only to please him.

  "Why, I could swim you to--Oh! Mind you don't upset!" she exclaimed.

  For Paul had stooped; leaning over the side of the boat he had passedone arm beneath her shoulders; he was bending over her to take a kiss,all fresh with lake-water.

  "You'll topple over," she warned him.

  "Pooh," he said. "One, Gwenna!"

  He always said her name as if it were "darling"--he did not call her"dear" or "darling" much. She found that she adored him for this, as foreverything that he said or did. Once, in one of those old-time talks oftheirs, Leslie had said, "For every three times a man asks for a kissrefuse him twice. An excellent plan, Taffy----" The happy girl-wifethought there need be no use of "plans" with him and her. She teasedhim--if she wanted to.

  Eyes laughed into eyes now. She threw back her head, evading him, butonly for a second. His mouth met hers, dewy as a lotus-bud. The boy andgirl kissed closely. Nothing could come between that kiss, she thought.

  Then, sudden as a flash of summer lightning, _something came_.

  A thought; a shadow; a fear at last.

  All these halcyon hours she had known no fear. All those weeks that herhusband had been in France she had been certain, at the bottom of herheart, of his safety. She had known by that queer sense of presentimentshe possessed that he would come back to her. He'd come back to makethis perfect time for which all her unawakened girlhood had beenwaiting. And now, by that same queer sixth sense, she suddenly foundherself realising that he would not--No, no! _That he might not comeback to her the second time...._ Suddenly, suddenly the shadow creptover her, taking the glow and colour out of their idyll even at thisgolden moment. With his lips warms on hers she shivered as if the waterin which she swayed had suddenly grown many degrees colder. Supposing heshould not return? In two days' time now he was leaving her. Supposingthat she were never to see him again? She shut her eyes, felt herselffor a horrible second surrounded by darkness, and alone.... She heardhis sharp question, "What's the matter?" and opened her eyes again.

  His head was dark against the blue little ripples of light passed overhis blonde face; ripples cast up from the water. The boat tilted, andhis arm held her more tightly. He said again, "What is it?"

  Then, in her own ears, her voice said serenely, "It's all right."

  The cloud had passed, as suddenly as it had fallen. She knew, somehow,that it would be "all right." Whatever happened, this worst catastropheof all was not going to fall upon her. She was not going to be leftalone and in darkness, her sun of Love gone down. Such a light could nothave been kindled, just to be put out again. She would not be forced tolive without him. _That_ could not be. Why, the thing was unthinkable.Yet, somehow that was going to be made "all right."

  "You swim back again and get your things on, as quick as you can," heordered her. "That was a touch of cramp you got, I expect."

  "I'm all right now," she again said.

  She sighed when at last they left that lovely Paradise of theirs behindthem.

  They went down hill at a good swinging pace, his arm again girdling thedove-grey frock. He said, "We'll get tea and topping light-cakes at oneof those cottages before we come to the village, shall we? Are youstarving, Little Thing? I know I am. Soon be there now."

  "I know," she said, "I wasn't sighing because I wanted my tea. Onlybecause ... It seems such a pity that we _ever_ have to come down fromhere!" she told him, nestling in his arm.

  But she did not tell him of her sudden fear, nor of its sudden passing,though (in her heart that beat below his hand) the thought of bothremained.