Beatrice paused; Monica had taken her hand in token of sympathy, but she did not speak.
“Of course, at first I thought he would come back. I never dreamed he would believe I had really led him on, only to reject him with contempt, when once he dared to speak his heart to me. We had quarrelled; and I was very miserable, knowing how foolish I had been; but I never, never believed for a moment that he would take that quarrel as final.
“Two wretched days of suspense followed. Then I heard that he had left Oxford the morning after our interview by the river, and I knew that all was over between us. That is the story of my life, Monica; it does not sound much to tell, but it means a good deal to me. I have never loved anyone else – I do not think I ever shall.”
Monica was silent.
“Neither has he.”
Beatrice’s eyes were full of a sort of wistful sadness and tender regret; but she only kissed Monica very quietly, and stole silently from the room.
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FOURTH.
STORM
“Ah, Randolph! I am glad you are in. It is going to be such a rough night!”
Monica was sitting by the fire in her own room, waiting for her husband to join her there, as he always did immediately upon coming in from his day’s sport. They had one or two more guests at Trevlyn now – men, friends of Randolph’s in days past; but nothing ever hindered him from devoting this one hour before dinner to his wife. It was to Monica the happiest hour of the day.
“I am so glad to have you safe back. Are you not very wet?”
“No; I was well protected from the rain; but it has been a disagreeable sort of day. The other fellows were carried off to dine at Hartland’s. We came across their party just outside the park, and he begged us all to accept his hospitality for the night, as the weather was getting so bad. Haddon and I came home to tell you, but the rest accepted the invitation. We shall be quite a small party to-night.”
Monica looked up with a smile.
“I think I am glad of that, Randolph.”
He sat down and put his arm about her.
“Tired of our guests already, Monica?”
“I don’t know – I like to have your friends, and to help to make them enjoy themselves; but I don’t think there is any such happiness as having you all to myself.”
He held her closer to him, and looked with a proud fond smile into her face.
“You feel that too, Monica?”
“Ah, yes! How could I help it?”
He fancied she spoke sadly, and would know why.
“I think I have been sad all day,” she answered; “I am often sad before a storm, when I hear the wind moaning round the house. It makes me think of the brave men at sea, and their wives waiting for them at home.”
There was a little quiver in her voice as she spoke the last words. Randolph heard it, and held her very close to him.
“It is not such a very bad night, Monica.”
“No; but it makes me think. When you are away, I cannot help feeling sad, often. Ah, my husband! how can I tell you all that you have been to me these happy, happy months?”
“My sweet wife!” he murmured, softly.
“And other wives love their husbands,” she went on in the same dreamy way, “and they see them go away over the dark sea, never to come back any more,” and she shivered.
“Let us go to the music-room, Monica,” said Randolph. “You shall play the hymn for those at sea.”
He knew the power of music to soothe her, when these strange moods of sadness and fear came upon her. They went to the organ together, and before half-an-hour had passed Monica was her own calm, serene self again.
“Monica,” said Randolph, “can you sing something to me now – now that we are quite alone together? Do you remember that little sad, sweet song you sang the night before I went away to Scotland? Will you sing it to me now? I have so often wanted to hear it again.”
Monica gave him one quick glance, and struck the preliminary chords softly and dreamily.
Wonderfully rich and sweet her voice sounded; but low-toned and deep, with a subtle searching sweetness that spoke straight to the heart:
“‘And if thou wilt, remember —
And if thou wilt, forget.’”
There was the least little quiver in her voice as it died into silence. Randolph bent over her and kissed her on the lips.
“Thank you,” he said. “It is a haunting little song in its sad sweetness. Somehow, it seems like you, Monica.”
But she made no answer, for at that moment a sound reached their ears that made them both start, listening intently. Monica’s face grew white to the lips.
The sound was repeated with greater distinctness.
“A gun!” said Randolph.
“A ship in distress!” whispered Monica.
A ship in distress upon that cruel, iron-bound coast – a pitch-dark night and a rising gale!
Randolph looked grave and resolute.
“We must see what can be done,” he said.
Monica’s face was very pale, but as resolute as her husband’s.
“I will go with you!” she said.
He glanced at, her, but he did not say her nay.
In the hall servants were gathering in visible excitement. Lord Haddon was there, and Beatrice. The distressing signals from the doomed vessel were urging their imperative message upon every heart. Faces were flushed with excitement. Every eye was turned upon the master of the house.
“Haddon,” he said, “there is not a man on the place that can ride like you, and you know every inch of the country by this time. Will you do this? – take the fastest, surest horse in the stable, and gallop to the nearest life-boat station. You know where it is? – Good! Give the alarm there, and get all in readiness. If the ship is past our help, and drifts with the wind, they may be able to save her crew still.”
Haddon stayed to ask no more. He was off for the stables almost before the words had left Randolph’s lips.
Monica was wrapping herself up in her warm ulster; Beatrice followed her example; the one was flushed, the other pale, but both were bent on the same object – they must go down to the shore to see what was done. They could not rest with the sound of those terrible guns ringing in their ears.
The night was pitchy black, the sky was obscured by a thick bank of cloud. The wind blew fierce and strong, what sailors would call “half a gale.” It was a wild, “dirty” night, but not nearly so bad a one as they