The Sign of the Spider

by Bertram Mitford

  CHAPTER XI.

  "AT THE TWELFTH HOUR."

  He was there to say good-bye.

  As he sat waiting, the soft subdued hush of the shaded room, in its coolfragrance, struck upon his senses as with an influence of depression, ofsadness, of loss. He had come to bid farewell. Farewell! Now the momenthad arrived he, somehow, felt it.

  Would she never come in? His nerves seemed all on edge, and ever uponthe glowing midday heat, the jarring thump of the Crown Reef batterybeat its monotonous time. Then the door opened softly, and Lilithentered.

  Never had she seemed to look more sweet, more inviting. The rich, darkbeauty, always more enthralling, more captivating when warmed by theconstant kiss of its native southern sun; the starry eyes, wide withearnestness; the sad, sweet expression of the wistful lips; the glorioussplendour of the perfect form, in its cool, creamy white draperies.Laurence Stanninghame, gazing upon her, realized with a dull, dead acheat the heart, that all his self-boasted strength was but the veriestweakness. And now he had come to say farewell.

  "I can hardly realize that we shall not see each other again," Lilithsaid, after a transparently feeble attempt or two on the part of bothof them to talk on indifferent subjects. "When do you expect to return?How long will you be away?"

  "'It may be for years, and it may be for ever,'" quoted Laurence, abitter ring in his tone. "Probably the latter."

  "You must not say that. Remember what I told you, more than once before.I am always hopeful, I never despair, even when things lookblackest--either for myself or other people. Though, I dare say, you arelaughing to yourself now at the idea of things being anything but brightto me. Well, then, I predict you will come back with what you want. Youwill return rich, and all will look up then for you."

  She spoke lightly, smilingly. He, listening, gazing at her, felt bitter.He had been mistaken. Well, he had found out his mistake, only just intime--only just. But even he, with all his observant perceptiveness, hadfailed to penetrate Lilith's magnificent self-command.

  "Let us hope your prediction will prove a true one," he said, falling inwith her supposed mood. "The one thing to make life worth living iswealth. I will stick at nothing to obtain it--nothing! Without it, lifeis a hell; with it--well, life is at one's feet. There is nothing onecannot do with it--nothing."

  His eyes glowed with a sombre light. There was a world of repressedpassion in his tone, the resentful snarl, as he thought of the pastsqualor and bitterness of life, mingling with the savage determinationand unscrupulous recklessness of the born adventurer.

  "There is one thing you cannot obtain for it," she said. "Thatis--love."

  "But it can bring you all that will cause you to feel no longing forthat deceptive illusion. You can forget that such a thing exists--canforget it in the renewed exuberance of vitality which is sheer enjoymentof living. Well, wish me luck. 'Good-bye' is a dreadful word, but it hasto be said."

  He had risen and stood blindly, half-bewilderedly. The shaded room, thesensuous fragrance of her presence, every graceful movement, thefascination of the wide, earnest eyes, all was more than beginning tointoxicate him, to shatter his chain-armour of bitterness andself-control. He, the strong, the invulnerable, the man in whom allheart and feeling was dead--what sorcery was this? He was bewitched,entranced, enthralled. His strength was as water. Yet not.

  They stood facing each other, glance fused into glance. At that momentheart seemed opened to heart--to be gazing therein.

  "Good-bye," he said. "Don't quite forget me, Lilith dear. Think a littlenow and then of the times we have had together." Then their lips met ina long kiss. And she said--nothing. Perhaps she could not. Theflood-gate of an awful torrent of pent-up, bravely controlled grief maybe opened in the utterance of that word "good-bye."

  Laurence Stanninghame seemed to walk blindly, staggering in the strongsunlight. Was it the midday heat, or the strong glare? Theever-monotonous beat of the Crown Reef stamps seemed to hammer withinhis brain, which seethed and swirled with the recollection of that lastlong kiss. He would not look back. Impervious to the furnace-like heat,he stepped out over the veldt at a pace which, by the time he reachedthe corner of the Wemmer property, caused him to look up wonderingly,that he should already be entering the town.

  "Oh, there you are, Stanninghame," sung out a voice, whose owner nearlycannoned into him. Laurence looked up.

  "Here I am, as you say, Holmes," he answered, quite coolly andunconcernedly. "But where are you bound for, and what's the excitement,anyway?"

  "Why, I thought I'd see if I could meet you. Hazon said you had gonedown to Booyseus this morning. What do you think? I've got round him,and I'm going with you."

  Laurence stared, then looked grave.

  "Going with us, eh? I say, youngster, have you made your will?"

  "Haven't got anything to leave. But, Stanninghame, I'm awfully obligedto you, old fellow. It's all through you I've got round the old man."

  "Have you any sort of idea what our program is?"

  "None. And I don't care."

  Laurence whistled.

  "See here, Holmes," he said, "this thing has got to be looked into. Infact, it can't go on."

  "Yes it can, and it shall. Don't be a beast, now, Stanninghame. I'd goanywhere with you two fellows, and I'm dead off this waiting for a boomthat never comes. I shall be as stony broke as the rest of them if Ihold on any longer. So I'm going to realize at a loss, and go with you.Come along, now, to Phillips' bar and we'll split a bottle of cham. tothe undertaking."

  "You don't need to buzz to that extent, Holmes. I hate 'gooseberry.''John Walker' is good enough for me."

  They reached Phillips', and found that historic bar far from empty; andyoung Holmes, who was full of exhilaration over the prospects of thistrip, was insisting that many should drink success thereto. Laurence,silent amid the racket of voices, was curiously watching him. Thisjoyous-hearted youngster, would he ever come to look back upon life as athing that had far better have never been lived? And he smiled queerlyto himself as he thought what would be the effect upon Holmes of theexperiences he would bring back with him from that trip to which he waslooking forward so joyously, so hopefully--if he returned from it atall, that was--if, indeed, any of them did. But throughout theracket--the strife of tongues, the boisterous guffaw over some cheap"wheeze"--the recollection of the shaded room, of that last good-bye inthe cloudless noontide pressed like a living weight upon his heart.Never would it be obliterated--never.

  Throughout the afternoon Laurence busied himself greatly over the finalpreparations. He did not even feel tempted to ride over to Booyseus, onsome pretext. Lilith would not be alone. There was always a host ofpeople there of an afternoon--callers, lawn-tennis players, and soforth. The ineffably sweet sadness of that last parting must be therecollection he was to carry forth with him.

  It was evening. The wagons had been started just before sundown, and nowtheir owners were riding out of the town to overtake them. Young Holmes,suffering under an exuberance of exhilaration begotten of multifoldgood-byes effected to a spirituous accompaniment, was not so firm in hissaddle as he might have been; but on the hardened heads of the other twothe effect of such farewells had been nil. They were just getting clearof the town when they became aware of a panting, puffing native strivingto overtake them.

  "Why, it's John," said Hazon, recognizing one of the coloured waiters attheir hotel.

  The boy ran straight up to Laurence, and held out an envelope.

  "For you, baas," he said. "The baas forgot to give it you. Dank you,baas!" catching, with a grin, something that was flung to him.

  It was a delicate-looking envelope, and sealed. What new surprise wasthis? as he took in the puzzling yet characteristic handwriting of theaddress.

  "I _must_ see you once more," he read. "I cannot let you go like this,Laurence, darling. Come to me for one more good-bye. I shall be alonethis evening. Come to me, love of my heart. L."

  "Pho! Of course it was not! It was too ridicul
ous. It was not as if allheaven had opened before his eyes. Of course not!" he told himself.

  But it was.

  "By the way, Hazon," he said indifferently, "I find there is still amatter I have to attend to. So you must go on without me. I expect I'llovertake you to-morrow not long after sunrise--or not much later.So-long!"

  The dark, impassive face of the up-country man underwent no change. Hehad understood the whole change of plan, but it was no concern of his.So he merely said "_Ja_, so-long," and continued his way.

  Laurence did not go back to the hotel. The last thing he desired wasthat his return should be noticed and commented upon. He sought outRainsford, who, having stable-room, willingly consented to put up hissteed, and, being a discreet fellow, was not likely to indulge in unduetongue-wagging. Then he took his way down to Booyseus.

  As he stepped forth through the gloom--for by this time it was quitedark--the words of that missive seemed burned into his brain incharacters of fire and of gold. What words they were, too! He had readher glance aright, then? It was only that intrepidity of self-commandwhich he had failed to allow for. And he? Why had he been so strong thatmorning? Seldom indeed did a second opportunity occur. But now? When heshould return up the hill he was now descending, such a memory would behis to carry forth with him into the solitude and peril and privation ofhis enterprise! Yet to what end? Even if he were successful in amassingwealth untold, yet they two must be as far apart as ever. Well, thatneed not follow, he told himself. With wealth one can doanything--anything; without it nothing, was at this time the primaryarticle of Laurence Stanninghame's creed; and at the thought his stepgrew more elastic, and all unconsciously his head threw itself back in agesture of anticipatory triumph.

  The house was quiet as he approached. At the sound of his step on the_stoep_--almost before he had time to knock--the door was opened--wasopened by Lilith herself--then closed behind him.

  She said no word; she only looked up at him. The subdued light of thehalf-darkened hall softened as with an almost unearthly beauty theupturned face, and forth from it her eyes shone, glowed with the lustreof a radiant tenderness, too vast, too overwhelming for her lips toutter.

  And he? He, too, said no word. Those lips of hers, sweet, inviting, werepressed to his; that peerless form was wrapped in his embrace, sinkingtherein with a soft sigh of contentment. What room was there for merewords? as again and again he kissed the lips--eyes--hair--then the lipsagain. This was only the beginning of a farewell visit,--a sad,whirling, heart-break of farewell,--yet as the blood surged boilingthrough Laurence Stanninghame's veins, and heart, pressed against heart,seemed swelled to bursting point, he thought that life, even such as ithad been, was worth living if it could contain such a moment as this.Equally, too, did he realize that, in life or in death, the triumph-joyof this moment should illumine his memory, dark though it might be, forever and ever.

  "What did you think of me when you got my note, dear one?" she whisperedat last. "And I have been in perfect agony ever since, for fear itshould be too late. But I could not let you go as I did this morning. Ifelt such an irresistible craving to see you again, Laurence, mydarling, to hear your voice. I felt we could not part as we did--eachtrying to deceive the other, each knowing, the while, that it wasimpossible. I wanted more than that for a memory throughout the blanktime that is coming."

  "Yes, we were both too strong, my Lilith. And why should we have been?What scruple ever stood anybody to the good in this hell-fraud of astate called 'Life'? Not one--not one! Yes, we were too strong, and yourself-command deceived even me."

  "My self-command? Ah, Laurence, my darling, how little you knew! All thetime I was battling hard with myself, forcing down an irresistiblelonging to do this--and this--and this!" And drawing down his head, shekissed him, again and again, long, tender kisses, as though her wholesoul sought entrance into his.

  "But I shall tire you, my dearest, if I keep you standing here likethis," she went on. "Come inside now, and our last talk--our last for along time--shall, at any rate, be a cosey one."

  She drew him within the half open door of an adjoining room. The windowcurtains were drawn, and a shaded lamp gave forth the same subdued andchastened light as that which burned in the hall. There were flowers invases and sprays, arranged in every tasteful and delicate manner, anddistilling a fragrance subtile and pervading. The sumptuous prettinessof the furniture and ornaments--picture frames encasing mystic andthought-evoking subjects, books disposed here and there, delicateembroidery, the work of her fingers--in short, the hundred and onedainty knick-knacks pleasing to the eye--seemed to reflect the bright,beautiful personality of Lilith; for, indeed, the arrangement anddisposal of them was almost entirely her own.

  She made him sit down upon the softest and most comfortable couch; then,as she seated herself beside him, he drew her head down to rest upon hisshoulder and wound his arms about her.

  "Why did you wait until even the twelfth hour?" he said. "Why did youblind me all this time, my Lilith? Only think what we have lost by it!"

  "Ah, yes, I have indeed. But tell me, dear one, it is not too late, isit, even though it be the twelfth hour?"

  "It came very near being too late. I had already started. Yes, it isindeed the twelfth hour. Too late? I don't know," he went on, in a toneof sombre bitterness. "Think of the blissful times that might have beenours had I but known. I would have taught you the real meaning of theword 'love.' I would have drawn your innermost soul from you--would havedrawn it into mine--have twined every thought of your being aroundmine--had I but known. And I could have done this; you know I could, doyou not? Think a moment, then answer."

  The head which rested on his shoulder seemed to lean heavier there; thearm which encircled her was pressed tighter by hers to the round,beautiful waist, as though to bring herself closer within his embrace.The answer came, rapturously sweet, but with a thrill of pain:

  "I know you could have. There is no need to think, even for a moment.You have done it."

  "I have tried to, even against difficulties. Come what may, Lilith, youshall never be free from the spell of this love of ours. All thoughts ofother love shall be flat, and stale, and dead; and now, when I am gone,your whole soul shall ache and throb with a sense of loss--love and painintertwined--yet not one pang of the latter would you forego, lest itshould lessen the rapturous keenness of the former in the minutestdegree. This is what you have caused _me_ to suffer by reason of yourstony self-command up till this morning. Now you shall suffer it too."

  His tones were calm, even almost stern as those of a judge pronouncingsentence. Lilith, drinking in every word, felt already that every wordwas true. That sense of love and pain was already in possession of hersoul, and would retain possession until all capacity for feeling wasdulled and dead.

  "You were cruel to draw my very soul out of me as you have done--toforce me to love you as I do," she answered--"cruel and pitiless."

  "What then? I was but carrying out the program of life. It is that way.But tell me, would you have preferred that I had not done it--that I hadpassed by on the other side?"

  "Oh, my Laurence, no! No, no--ten thousand times no! The mererecollection of such an hour as this is worth a life-time of the awfulpain of loss of which you speak and which is around me already."

  "That was my own judgment when I first recognized that a strong mutual'draw' was bringing us together. I foresaw this moment, and deliberatelyacquiesced in fate."

  Now the soft waves of her hair swept his face, now the satin smoothnessof her cheek lay against his. Lips met lips again and again, and neverfor a moment did the clasp of that firm embrace relax. The dead blankhopelessness of life and its conditions, then, had still contained this,had culminated in this? As he thus held her to him, as though he wouldhold her forever, some dreamy brain-wave seemed to carry Laurence's mindinto the dim and somewhat awesome vistas of the future, to bring it faceto face with death in varying and appalling forms. What mattered! Therecollection of this farewell hour here, in the
half-shaded room, withits subtile fragrance of flowers and mysterious light, would be with himthen. Such an hour as this would be a crowning triumph to the apex oflife. Better that life should end than lengthen out to witness a declinefrom this apex.

  As Lilith had said, he was cruel and pitiless in his love. What then? Itwas characteristic of him. Had not all experience taught him that theslightest weakness, the slightest compunction, was that faulty linkwhich should snap the chain, be the latter never so massively forged? Heremembered how they had held discussion as to whether right might ensuefrom what was wrong in the abstract. He remembered the cold, hardimprint of the revolver-muzzle against his forehead, the increasingpressure of his thumb upon the trigger, then the thought of Lilith'slove had come in as a hand stretched forth to snatch him from the jawsof death. And it had so snatched him. What were the mere conventionalrules of abstract right or wrong beside such an instance of cause andeffect? Old wives' fables.

  They were standing up, face to face, looking into each other's eyes. Thehour was late now. Any moment the household might return. Both desiredthat the last farewell should take place alone. Not for the sake of afew more precious moments would they run the risk of being cheated outof that last farewell.

  "You sweet, cruel, pitiless torturer," Lilith said, locking her hands inhis, as they rose, "you have placed my life under one great lastingshadow, because of the recollection of you. How will it be, think you,when I wake up to-morrow and find you are gone--if I sleep at all thatis? How will it be when, day after day, week after week---- Ah, love,love," she broke off, "and yet I cannot say, 'Why did you do it?' foryour very cruelty in doing it is sweet--sweet, do you hear, Laurence?Have you ever been loved--tell me, have you, have you?" she went on,drawing his head down with a sort of fierceness and again pressing herburning lips to his.

  "At the twelfth hour! at the twelfth hour!" he repeated, in a kind ofcondemnatory merciless tone, while his clasp tightened around the lovelyform, which seemed literally to hang in his arms. "Love of my heart,think what such an hour as this might have been, not once, but again andagain, and that undashed with the pain of immediate parting as now. Whydid we--why did you--wait until the very twelfth hour? Why?"

  "Why, indeed? Darling, darling, don't reproach me. You have drawn myvery heart and soul into yours. Think of it ever, day and night,whatever may befall you. Oh, Laurence, my heart's life!"

  Now this hard, stony, self-controlled stoic discovered that his granitenature was shaken to its foundation. But, even then, the unutterablesweetness of the thought that he, and he alone, had lived to inspire theanguish of the pleading tones that thrilled to his ear, thrilled withlove for him, to enkindle the light that shone from those eyes, meltingwith love for him; this thought flowed in upon the torrent-wave of hispain, rendering it bliss, yet lashing it up the more fiercely.

  There was silence for a few moments. Both stood gazing into each other'seyes; gazing, as it were, into the innermost depths of each other'ssoul. Then the sound of voices drawing nearer, rising above the clankinghum of the Crown Reef battery, seemed to warn them that if their lastfarewell was to be made alone the time to make it had come.

  "Good-bye, now, love of my heart," he whispered, between long, burning,clinging kisses. Now that this final parting had come, the dead,dreary, heartsick pain of it seemed to choke all utterance.

  She strained him to her, and heart throbbed against heart. Even now sheseemed to see his face mistily and far away.

  "Oh, it is too bitter!" she gasped, striving to drown her rising sobs."Laurence, my darling! Oh, my love, my life, my ideal--yes, you werethat from the moment I first saw you--good-bye--and good-bye!"

  He was gone. It was as though their embrace had literally been wrenchedasunder. He was gone. And even as he passed from her vision, from thelight into the gloom, so it seemed as though he had borne the light ofher life with him, and, as Lilith stood there in the open doorway,gazing forth into the night, the dull measured clank of the batterystamps seemed to beat in cruel, pitiless refrain within her heart:

  "At the twelfth hour! at the twelfth hour!"