<h2>CHAPTER XI<br/> <span class="f8">IN THE TWILIGHT</span></h2>
<p class="cap"><span class="upper">It</span> was not without misgiving that I climbed the
steep zigzag at Whinnyfold, for at every turn I
half expected to see the unwelcome face of Gormala
before me. It seemed hardly possible that everything
could go on so well with me, and that yet I should not
be disturbed by her presence. Miss Anita, I think, saw
my uneasiness and guessed the cause of it; I saw her
follow my glances round, and then she too kept an eager
look out. We won the top, however, and got into the
waiting carriage without mishap. At the hotel she asked
me to bring to their sitting-room the papers with the
secret writing. She gave a whispered explanation that
we should be quite alone as Mrs. Jack always took a
nap, when possible, before dinner.</p>
<p>She puzzled long and anxiously over the papers and
over my enlarged part copy of them. Finally she shook
her head and gave it up for the time. Then I told her
the chief of the surmises which I had made regarding
the means by which the biliteral cipher, did such exist,
might be expressed. That it must be by marks of some
sort was evident; but which of those used were applied
to this purpose I could not yet make out. When I had
exhausted my stock of surmises she said:</p>
<p>“More than ever I am convinced that you must begin
by reducing the biliteral cipher. Every time I think of
it, it seems plainer to me that Bacon, or any one else<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</SPAN></span>
using such a system, would naturally perfect it if possible.
And now let us forget this for the present. I am
sure you must want a rest from thinking of the cipher, and
I feel that I do. Dinner is ready; after it, if you will,
I should like another run down to the beach.”</p>
<p>“<em>Another</em>” run to the beach! then she remembered
our former one as a sort of fixed point. My heart
swelled within me, and my resolution to take my own
course, even if it were an unwise one, grew.</p>
<p>After dinner, we took our way over the sandhills and
along the shore towards the Hawklaw, keeping on the
line of hard sand just below high-water mark.</p>
<p>The sun was down and the twilight was now beginning.
In these northern latitudes twilight is long, and
at the beginning differs little from the full light of day.
There is a mellowed softness over everything, and all
is grey in earth and sea and air. Light, however, there
is in abundance at the first. The mystery of twilight, as
Southerns know it, comes later on, when the night
comes creeping up from over the sea, and the shadows
widen into gloom. Still twilight is twilight in any degree
of its changing existence; and the sentiment of
twilight is the same all the world over. It is a time
of itself; between the stress and caution of the day,
and the silent oblivion of the night: It is an hour when
all living things, beasts as well as human, confine themselves
to their own business. With the easy relaxation
comes something of self-surrender; soul leans to soul
and mind to mind, as does body to body in moments of
larger and more complete intention. Just as in the moment
after sunset, when the earth is lit not by the narrow
disc of the sun but by the glory of the wide heavens
above, twin shadows merge into one, so in the twilight
two natures which are akin come closer to the identity of
one. Between daylight and dark as the myriad sounds<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</SPAN></span>
of life die away one by one, the chirp of birds, the lowing
of cattle, the bleating of sheep, the barking of dogs,
so do the natural sounds such as the rustle of trees, the
plash of falling water, or the roar of breaking waves
wake into a new force that strikes on the ear with a
sense of intention or conscious power. It is as though
in all the wide circle of nature’s might there is never to
be such a thing as stagnation; no moment of poise, save
when the spirits of nature proclaim abnormal silence,
such as ruled when earth stood “at gaze, like Joshua’s
moon on Ajalon.”</p>
<p>The spirits of my companion and myself yielded to this
silent influence of the coming night. Unconsciously we
walked close together and in step; and were silent, wrapt
in the beauty around us. To me it was a gentle ecstasy.
To be alone with her in such a way, in such a place,
was the good of all heaven and all earth in one. And so
for many minutes we went slowly on our way along
the deserted sand, and in hearing of the music of the
sounding sea and the echoing shore.</p>
<p>But even Heaven had its revolt. It seems that whether
it be on Earth or in Heaven intelligence is not content
to remain in a condition of poise. Ever there are heights
to be won. Out of my own very happiness and the
peace that it gave me, came afresh the wild desire to
scale new heights and to make the present altitude which
I had achieved a stepping-off place for a loftier height.
All arguments seemed to crowd in my mind to prove
that I was justified in asking Marjory to be my wife.
Other men had asked women whom they had known but a
short time to marry them; and with happy result. It
was apparent that at the least she did not dislike me.
I was a gentleman, of fair stock, and well-to-do; I could
offer her a true and a whole heart. She, who was
seemingly only companion to a wealthy woman, could<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</SPAN></span>
not be offended at a man’s offering to her all he had to
give. I had already approached the subject, and she
had not warned me off it; she had only given me in a
sweetly artful way advice in which hope held a distinct
place. Above all, the days and hours and moments
were flying by. I did not know her address or when I
should see her again, or if at all. This latest thought
decided me. I would speak plainly to-night.</p>
<p>Oh, but men are dull beside women in the way of
intuition. This girl seemed to be looking over the sea,
and yet with some kind of double glance, such as women
have at command, she seemed to have been all the time
looking straight through and through me and getting
some idea of her own from my changing expression. I
suppose the appearance of determination frightened her
or set her on guard, for she suddenly said:</p>
<p>“Ought we not to be turning home?”</p>
<p>“Not yet!” I pleaded, all awake in a moment from
my dreams. “A few minutes, and then we can go back.”</p>
<p>“Very well,” she said with a smile, and then added
demurely; “we must not be long.” I felt that my hour
had come and spoke impulsively:</p>
<p>“Marjory, will you be my wife?” Having got out
the words I stopped. My heart was beating so heavily
that I could not speak more. For a few seconds, which
seemed ages to me, we were both silent. I daresay that
she may have been prepared for something; from what
I know now I am satisfied that her own intention was
to ward off any coming difficulty. But the suddenness
and boldness of the question surprised her and embarrassed
her to silence. She stopped walking, and as she
stood still I could see her bosom heave—like my own.
Then with a great effort, which involved a long breath
and the pulling up of her figure and the setting back of
her shoulders, she spoke:</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“But you know nothing of me!”</p>
<p>“I know all of you that I want to know!” This truly
Hibernian speech amused her, even through her manifest
emotion and awkwardness, if one can apply the word to
one compact of so many graces. I saw the smile, and
it seemed to set us both more at ease.</p>
<p>“That sounds very rude,” she said “but I understand
what you mean, and take it so.” This gave me
an opening into which I jumped at once. She listened,
seeming not displeased at my words; but on the whole
glad of a moment’s pause to collect her thoughts before
again speaking:</p>
<p>“I know that you are beautiful; the most beautiful
and graceful girl I ever saw. I know that you are brave
and sweet and tender and thoughtful. I know that
you are clever and resourceful and tactful. I know
that you are a good comrade; that you are an artist
with a poet’s soul. I know that you are the one woman
in all the wide world for me; that having seen you
there can never be any one else to take your place
in my heart. I know that I would rather die with
you in my arms, than live a king with any other
queen!”</p>
<p>“But you have only seen me twice. How can you
know so many nice things about me. I wish they were
all true! I am only a girl; and I must say it is sweet
to hear them, whether they be true or not. Anyhow,
supposing them all true, how could you have known
them?”</p>
<p>Hope was stepping beside me now. I went on:</p>
<p>“I did not need a second meeting to know so much.
To-day was but a repetition of my joy; an endorsement
of my judgment; a fresh rivetting of my fetters!” She
smiled in spite of herself as she replied:</p>
<p>“You leave me dumb. How can I answer or argue<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</SPAN></span>
with such a conviction.” Then she laid her hand tenderly
on my arm as she went on:</p>
<p>“Oh, I know what you mean, my friend. I take it all
in simple truth; and believe me it makes me proud to
hear it, though it also makes me feel somewhat unworthy
of so much faith. But there is one other thing
which you must consider. In justice to me you must.”
She paused and I felt my heart grow cold. “What is
it?” I asked. I tried to speak naturally but I felt that
my voice was hoarse. Her answer came slowly, but it
seemed to turn me to ice:</p>
<p>“But I don’t know you!”</p>
<p>There was a pity in her eyes which gave me some
comfort, though not much; a man whose soul is crying
out for love does not want pity. Love is a glorious self-surrender;
all spontaneity; all gladness, all satisfaction,
in which doubt and forethought have no part. Pity is
a conscious act of the mind; wherein is a knowledge
of one’s own security of foothold. The two can no more
mingle than water and oil.</p>
<p>The shock had come, and I braced myself to it. I
felt that now if ever I should do my devoir as a gentleman.
It was my duty as well as my privilege to shield
this woman from unnecessary pain and humiliation. Well
I knew, that it had been pain to her to say such a thing
to me; and the pain had come from my own selfish impulse.
She had warned me earlier in the day, and I
had broken through her warning. Now she was put in
a false position through my act; it was necessary I should
make her feelings as little painful as I could. I had even
then a sort of dim idea that my best plan would have
been to have taken her in my arms and kissed her. Had
we both been older I might have done so; but my love
was not built in this fashion. Passion was so mingled
with respect that the other course, recognition of, and<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</SPAN></span>
obedience to, her wishes seemed all that was open to
me. Besides it flashed across me that she might take
it that I was presuming on her own impulsive act on the
rock. I said with what good heart I could:</p>
<p>“That is an argument unanswerable, at present. I
can only hope that time will stand my friend. Only”
I added and my voice choked as I said it “Do, do believe
that I am in deadly earnest; that all my life is at stake;
and that I only wait, and I will wait loyally with what
patience I can, in obedience to your will. My feelings
and my wish, and—and my request will stand unaltered
till I die!” She said not a word, but the tears rose
up in her beautiful eyes and ran down her blushing
cheeks as she held out her hand to me. She did not
object when I raised it to my lips and kissed it with
all my soul in the kiss!</p>
<p>We turned instinctively and walked homewards. I
felt dejected, but not broken. At first the sand seemed
to be heavy to my feet; but when after a little I noticed
that my companion walked with a buoyancy unusual even
to her, I too became gay again. We came back to the
hotel much in the spirit in which we had set out.</p>
<p>We found Mrs. Jack dressed, all but her outer cloak,
and ready for the road. She went away with Marjory
to finish her toilet, but came back before her younger
companion. When we were alone she said to me after
a few moments of ’hum’ing and ’ha’ing and awkward
preparation of speech:</p>
<p>“Oh Mr. Hunter, Marjory tells me that she intends
to ride on her bicycle down to Aberdeen from Braemar
where we are going on Friday. I am to drive from
Braemar to Ballater and then go on by train so that I
shall be in before her, though I am to leave later. But
I am fearful about the girl riding such a journey by
herself. We have no gentleman friend here, and it<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</SPAN></span>
would be so good of you to take charge of her, if you
happened to be anywhere about there. I know I can
trust you to take care of her, you have been so good to
her, and to me, already.”</p>
<p>My heart leaped. Here was an unexpected chance
come my way. Time was showing himself to be my friend
already.</p>
<p>“Be quite assured,” I said as calmly as I could “I
shall be truly glad to be of the least service. And
indeed it will just suit my plans, as I hoped to go
to Braemar on my bicycle one day very soon and can
arrange to go just as may suit you. But of course
you understand that I must not go unless Miss Anita
wishes it. I could not presume to thrust myself upon
her.”</p>
<p>“Oh that is all right!” she answered quickly, so
quickly that I took it that she had already considered
the matter and was satisfied about it. “Marjory will
not object.” Just then the young lady entered the room
and Mrs. Jack turning to her said:</p>
<p>“I have asked Mr. Hunter my dear to ride down
with you from Braemar; and he says that as it just suits
his plans as he was going there he will be very happy
if you ask him.” She smiled as she said:</p>
<p>“Oh since you asked him and he had said yes I need not
ask him too; but I shall be very glad!” I bowed. When
Mrs. Jack went out, Marjory turning to me said:</p>
<p>“When did you plan to go to Braemar?”</p>
<p>“When Mrs. Jack told me you were going” I answered
boldly.</p>
<p>“Oh! I didn’t mean that,” she said with a slight blush
“but at what time you were to be there.” To which
I said:</p>
<p>“That will be just to suit your convenience. Will
you write and let me know?” She saw through my<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</SPAN></span>
ruse of getting a letter, and smilingly held up a warning
finger.</p>
<p>As we strolled up the road, waiting for the dog-cart to
be got ready, she said to me:</p>
<p>“Now you can be a good comrade I know; and you
said that, amongst other things, I was a good comrade.
So I am; and between Braemar and Aberdeen we must
both be good comrades. That and nothing more! Whatever
may come after, for good or ill, that time must
be kept apart.”</p>
<p>“Agreed!” I said and felt a secret exultation as we
joined Mrs. Jack. Before they started Marjory said:</p>
<p>“Mrs. Jack I also have asked Mr. Hunter to come on
the ride from Braemar. I thought it would please him
if we both asked him, since he is so diffident and unimpulsive!”</p>
<p>With a smile she said good-bye and waved it with her
whip as they started.</p>
<hr class="l1" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</SPAN></span></p>
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