CHAPTER XLVIII.
HELEN'S act was strange, and demands a word of explanation. If she hadthought the steamboat was a strange vessel, she would have lighted thebonfire; if she had known her father was on board, she would have lightedit with joy. But Hazel, whose every word now was gospel, had said it wasArthur Wardlaw in that boat, searching for her.
Still, so strong is the impulse in all civilized beings to get back tocivilization, that she went up that hill as honestly intending to lightthe bonfire as Hazel intended it to be lighted. But, as she went, hercourage cooled, and her feet began to go slowly, as her mind ran swiftlyforward to consequence upon consequence. To light that bonfire was tobring Arthur Wardlaw down upon herself and Hazel living alone and onintimate terms. Arthur would come and claim her to his face. Could shedisallow his claim? Gratitude would now be on his side as well as goodfaith. What a shock to Arthur! What torture for Hazel! torture that heforesaw, or why the face of anguish, that dragged even now at herheart-strings? And then it could end only in one way; she and Hazel wouldleave the island in Arthur's ship. What a voyage for all three! She stoodtransfixed by shame; her whole body blushed at what she saw coming. Thenonce more Hazel's face rose before her; poor crippled Hazel! her hero andher patient. She sat down and sighed, and could no more light the firethan she could have put it out if another had lighted it.
She was a girl that could show you at times she had a father as well as amother. But that evening she was all woman.
They met no more that night.
In the morning his face was haggard, and showed a mental struggle; buthers placid and quietly beaming, for the very reason that she had made agreat sacrifice. She was one of that sort.
And this difference between them was a foretaste.
His tender conscience pricked him sore. To see her sit beaming there,when, if he had done his own duty with his own hands she would be on herway to England! Yet his remorse was dumb; for, if he gave it vent, thenhe must seem ungrateful to her for _her_ sacrifice.
She saw his deep and silent compunction, approved it secretly; saidnothing, but smiled, and beamed, and soothed. He could not resist this;and wild thrills of joy and hope passed through him, visions of unbrokenbliss far from the world.
But this sweet delirium was followed by misgivings of another kind. Andhere _she_ was at fault. What could they be?
It was the voice of conscience telling him that he was really wining herlove, once inaccessible; and, if so, was bound to tell her his wholestory, and let her judge between him and the world, before she made anymore sacrifices for him. But it is hard to stop great happiness; harderto stop it and ruin it. Every night, as he lay alone, he said, "To-morrowI will tell her all, and make her the judge." But in the morning herbright face crushed his purpose by the fear of clouding it. His limbs gotstrong and his heart got weak. And they used to take walks, and her headcame near his shoulder. And the path of duty began to be set thicker thanever with thorns; and the path of love with primroses. One day she madehim sit to her for his portrait; and, under cover of artistic enthusiasm,told him his beard was godlike, and nothing in the world could equal itfor beauty. She never saw but one at all like it, poor Mr. Seaton's; buteven that was very inferior to his. And then she dismissed the sitter."Poor thing," said she, "you are pale and tired." And she began to useornaments; took her bracelets out of her bag, and picked pearls out ofher walls, and made a coronet, under which her eyes flashed at night withsuperlative beauty--conscious beauty brightened by the sense of beingadmired and looked at by the eye she desired to please.
She revered him. He had improved her character, and she knew it, andoften told him so.
"Call me Hazelia," she said; "make me liker you still."
One day, he came suddenly through the jungle, and found her reading herprayer-book.
He took it from her, not meaning to be rude, neither, but inquisitive.
It was open at the marriage-service, and her cheeks were dyed scarlet.
His heart panted. He was a clergyman; he could read that service overthem both.
Would it be a marriage?
Not in England; but in some countries it would. Why not in this? This wasnot England.
He looked up. Her head was averted; she was downright distressed.
He was sorry to have made her blush; so he took her hand and kissed ittenderly, so tenderly that his heart seemed to go into his lips. Shethrilled under it, and her white brow sank upon his shoulder.
The sky was a vault of purple with a flaming topaz in the center; thesea, a heavenly blue; the warm air breathed heavenly odors; flamingmacaws wheeled overhead; humming-birds, more gorgeous than any flower,buzzed round their heads, and amazed the eye with delight, then cooled itwith the deep green of the jungle into which they dived.
It was a Paradise with the sun smiling down on it, and the ocean smilingup, and the air impregnated with love. Here they were both content now tospend the rest of their days--
"The world forgetting; by the world forgot."
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