CHAPTER XXXII
The wind tapped angrily at the windows of Flint House, the rain fellstealthily, the sea made a droning uneasy sound. The fire which burnt onthe kitchen hearth was a poor one, a sullen thing of green boughs and coalwhich refused to harmonize, but spluttered and fizzed angrily. The coalsmouldered blackly, but sometimes cracked with a startling report. Whenthis happened, a crooked bough sticking up in the middle of the fire, likea curved fang, would jump out on to the hearthstone as though frightenedby the noise.
Thalassa sat on one side of the fire, his wife on the other. Her eyes wererapt and vacant; he sat with frowning brows, deep in thought. RobertTurold's dog crouched in the circle of the glow with amber eyes fixed onthe old man's face as if he were a god, and Thalassa lived up to one ofthe attributes of divinity by not deigning to give his worshipper a sign.Occasionally the dog lifted a wistful supplicating paw, dropping it againin dejection when it passed unregarded.
Presently Thalassa got up and went to a cupboard in the corner. From somehidden receptacle he extracted a coil of ship's tobacco and a wooden pipeshaped into a negro's head, with little beads for eyes, such as may bebought for a few pence in shops near the London docks. He returned to hisseat, filled the pipe, lit it with a burning bough, and fell to smokingwith lingering whiffs, gazing into the fire with dark gleaming eyes asmotionless as the glinting beads in the negro's carved head.
The clock on the mantel-piece ticked steadily away in the silence. Thedog, with a brute recognition of the unsatisfactory nature of spiritualaspiration, descended to the care of his own affairs, and scratched forfleas which knew no other world than his hind-quarters.
"Go away, go away! You mustn't come in here!"
The shrill voice of Mrs. Thalassa broke the silence like a cracked bell,shattering her husband's meditations, and causing the dog to spring to hisfeet. Thalassa looked at her angrily. She was making mysterious motionswith her hands, as if expostulating with some phantom of her thoughts,muttering and shaking her head rapidly. Her husband stared across insilence for a moment.
"By God! she doesn't improve with age," he growled; then, louder: "What'sthe matter with you? What are you making that noise for?"
The question went unheeded. To his astonishment she sprang to her feetwith a kind of grotesque vivacity, and, darting over to the window, begangesticulating again with an angry persistency, as if to some one outside.
Thalassa left his seat and went to the window also. His wife had ceasedher gestures, and stood still listening and watching. Thalassa pulled backthe blind, and looked out. The moor and rocks were draped in black, andthe only sounds which reached him were the disconsolate wail of the windand the savage break of the sea on the rocks below. He looked at his wife.She had started tossing her hands again at some spectral invisible thingin the shadowy night. She was quite mad--there could be no doubt of that.He endeavoured to lead her back to her seat by the fireside, but she brokeaway from him with surprising strength, and again her voice rang out--
"Go away ... go away! You can't come in. I won't let you in. You're awicked girl, Miss Sisily, and I won't let you in. You killed your father,and you'd like to kill me, but I'll keep you locked out. Go away!" Hervoice rose to a screech.
The blood rushed to Thalassa's head as he listened to these words. Heunderstood quite suddenly--this was not a demented raving. Sisily had beenthere--she had come back to him in her fear--and she had been driven away.He turned to his wife and caught her up in his great arms, shaking herviolently, as one shakes a child. The sight was terrible and absurd, butthere was no one to witness it but the dog, who circled round and round inyelping excitement, as though the scene was enacted for his benefit alone.
"Has Miss Sisily been here?"
The question thundered out in the empty silence. Mrs. Thalassa crouchedlike a preposterous hunched-up doll on the seat where her husband hadflung her, looking up at him with stupid eyes, but not speaking. Heapproached her again.
"Speak, woman, speak, or I'll strangle you."
She backed away, whimpering with fear. "No, no, Jasper, leave me alone."
"Has Miss Sisily been here?"
The sight of those long outstretched hands, by their menace to her life,seemed to restore her reason. "Yes," she mumbled.
"When?"
"This evening--before dark--when you were out."
"And you wouldn't let her in?"
"No."
"How did you know it was her?"
"She knocked at the door, and I looked out of the window."
"Did you see which way she went?"
"Over by the cliffs, where she used to go."
Thalassa repeated these last words mechanically. Anger possessed him, butapprehension stirred in his heart. Sisily had trusted him, she had comeback to him, and he had failed her. That had been at six o'clock, and itwas now nine. Three hours, and there had been a storm. Where was she? Hadshe been out in the storm?
He searched in the cupboard for a lantern, lit it, and made for the door,followed by the dog. As he flung open the door the wind rushed in withsuch force that it beat him back, and the candle in the lantern flickeredand lengthened like a naked flame. He fought his way out furiously,slamming the door behind him.
Outside, the rocks crouched in the darkness in nameless shapes. Thalassaprowled among them, struggling desperately with the wind, telling himselfthat she was safe--yes, by God, she was safe. Of course she wouldn't stayon the rocks in that storm. She would seek shelter. "Where?" askedsomething within him mockingly, "Where would she dare go, except to you?"He stood still to reflect. "She might go to Dr. Ravenshaw's," he saidaloud, as though answering an unseen but real questioner. "Fool!" came thereply, "you know she would not go to Dr. Ravenshaw's. She would not dare."And fear gripped his heart coldly.
He stumbled on again, bruising and cutting his limbs among the rocks. Ashe went he kept calling her name--"Miss Sisily" at first, and then, as hisfear grew stronger, "Sisily, Sisily!" The wind wailed back to him, butthat was all.
He stopped again to reflect. It was useless looking for her in thedarkness. He could do nothing until the moon was up. The sky was alreadybeginning to brighten with the coming light. So he stood where he was,waiting.
In a quarter of an hour the moon showed above the horizon, slurred throughthe rain, like a great drowned face. Higher and higher it rose until theblack curtain lifted off the moors, and the light shimmered on littlepools left after the rain, made fretwork in the shadows of the rocks, andfell upon the surface of the sea. And as the moon rose the hideous uproarof wind and sea began to die away.
Thalassa threw down the lantern, and resumed his search. Carefully heexplored in and out among the rude masses of rock, beating farther andfarther away from the house, cautiously skirting the perpendicular edge ofthe cliffs, looking over, and backing away again. His wider cast broughthim at length to where the Moon Rock rose from the turmoil of the sea. Hecrept on hands and knees to the bald face of the cliff, and looked down.
By the light of the moon something caught his eye far below--somethingwhite and small, showing distinctly against the black glistening base ofthe Moon Rock. He could not discern what it was, but a nameless terrorseized him, and his jaw dropped as he crouched there, gazing. Then hescrambled to his feet with a wild cry, and made for the path down thecliffs to the pool. It was some distance from where he was, but there wasno shorter way. He rushed recklessly along the cliff edge till he reachedit, and climbed down.
It was there he found her.
She was lying limp and motionless on the edge of the pool, and thereceding tide was still lapping over the shelf of the rock where the seahad flung her.
Thalassa dropped on his knees beside her. "Sisily, Sisily!" he criedhoarsely--"It's me--Thalassa!"
He stooped over her, calling her repeatedly, but she did not reply. Herface showed still and white in the moonlight. He unfastened the front ofher dress, and put his hard hand on her soft flesh, but he could not feelher heart beating. He lifted her ten
derly in his arms, and she lay againsthis body inert and cold, her wet head resting on his shoulder. Thus hestarted the ascent of the cliff.
A giant's strength still lurked in his ageing frame. It was well for himthat it did. He had only his feet to depend upon in that long slipperyascent, and the wind tugged at him angrily, as if anxious to jerk him offthe path into the sea. But he fought his way up with his burden, thoughhis body was swaying and his head was dizzy when he reached the top.
He did not stop for a moment. Still holding her fast he set out, not forFlint House, but to the churchtown. Dizzy, panting, and staggering, hestruggled on across the moors, and as he walked he listened anxiously forany sound from the inanimate form in his arms.
But she lay still and motionless against his breast.
On he went until he reached the churchtown, and made his way up the emptystreet to Dr. Ravenshaw's house. He turned in the garden gate, and beatwith his heavy boot against the closed door.
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