The Project Gutenberg Etext of New Arabian Nights

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From this the talk branched into other subjects, and I told her
much about my lonely and wandering existence; she, for her part,
giving ear, and saying little. Although we spoke very naturally,
and latterly on topics that might seem indifferent, we were both
sweetly agitated. Too soon it was time for her to go; and we
separated, as if by mutual consent, without shaking hands, for both
knew that, between us, it was no idle ceremony.

The next, and that was the fourth day of our acquaintance, we met
in the same spot, but early in the morning, with much familiarity
and yet much timidity on either side. When she had once more
spoken about my danger - and that, I understood, was her excuse for
coming - I, who had prepared a great deal of talk during the night,
began to tell her how highly I valued her kind interest, and how no
one had ever cared to hear about my life, nor had I ever cared to
relate it, before yesterday. Suddenly she interrupted me, saying
with vehemence -

"And yet, if you knew who I was, you would not so much as speak to
me!"

I told her such a thought was madness, and, little as we had met, I
counted her already a dear friend; but my protestations seemed only
to make her more desperate.

"My father is in hiding!" she cried.

"My dear," I said, forgetting for the first time to add "young
lady," "what do I care? If he were in hiding twenty times over,
would it make one thought of change in you?"

"Ah, but the cause!" she cried, "the cause! It is - " she faltered
for a second - "it is disgraceful to us!"

CHAPTER IV - TELLS IN WHAT A STARTLING MANNER I LEARNED THAT I WAS
NOT ALONE IN GRADEN SEA-WOOD

This was my wife's story, as I drew it from her among tears and
sobs. Her name was Clara Huddlestone: it sounded very beautiful
in my ears; but not so beautiful as that other name of Clara
Cassilis, which she wore during the longer and, I thank God, the
happier portion of her life. Her father, Bernard Huddlestone, had
been a private banker in a very large way of business. Many years
before, his affairs becoming disordered, he had been led to try
dangerous, and at last criminal, expedients to retrieve himself
from ruin. All was in vain; he became more and more cruelly
involved, and found his honour lost at the same moment with his
fortune. About this period, Northmour had been courting his
daughter with great assiduity, though with small encouragement; and
to him, knowing him thus disposed in his favour, Bernard
Huddlestone turned for help in his extremity. It was not merely
ruin and dishonour, nor merely a legal condemnation, that the
unhappy man had brought upon his head. It seems he could have gone
to prison with a light heart. What he feared, what kept him awake
at night or recalled him from slumber into frenzy, was some secret,
sudden, and unlawful attempt upon his life. Hence, he desired to
bury his existence and escape to one of the islands in the South
Pacific, and it was in Northmour's yacht, the RED EARL, that he
designed to go. The yacht picked them up clandestinely upon the
coast of Wales, and had once more deposited them at Graden, till
she could be refitted and provisioned for the longer voyage. Nor
could Clara doubt that her hand had been stipulated as the price of
passage. For, although Northmour was neither unkind nor even
discourteous, he had shown himself in several instances somewhat
overbold in speech and manner.

I listened, I need not say, with fixed attention, and put many
questions as to the more mysterious part. It was in vain. She had
no clear idea of what the blow was, nor of how it was expected to
fall. Her father's alarm was unfeigned and physically prostrating,
and he had thought more than once of making an unconditional
surrender to the police. But the scheme was finally abandoned, for
he was convinced that not even the strength of our English prisons
could shelter him from his pursuers. He had had many affairs with
Italy, and with Italians resident in London, in the later years of
his business; and these last, as Clara fancied, were somehow
connected with the doom that threatened him. He had shown great
terror at the presence of an Italian seaman on board the RED EARL,
and had bitterly and repeatedly accused Northmour in consequence.
The latter had protested that Beppo (that was the seaman's name)
was a capital fellow, and could be trusted to the death; but Mr.
Huddlestone had continued ever since to declare that all was lost,
that it was only a question of days, and that Beppo would be the
ruin of him yet.

I regarded the whole story as the hallucination of a mind shaken by
calamity. He had suffered heavy loss by his Italian transactions;
and hence the sight of an Italian was hateful to him, and the
principal part in his nightmare would naturally enough be played by
one of that nation.

"What your father wants," I said, "is a good doctor and some
calming medicine."

"But Mr. Northmour?" objected your mother. "He is untroubled by
losses, and yet he shares in this terror."

I could not help laughing at what I considered her simplicity.

"My dear," said I, "you have told me yourself what reward he has to
look for. All is fair in love, you must remember; and if Northmour
foments your father's terrors, it is not at all because he is
afraid of any Italian man, but simply because he is infatuated with
a charming English woman."

She reminded me of his attack upon myself on the night of the
disembarkation, and this I was unable to explain. In short, and
from one thing to another, it was agreed between us, that I should
set out at once for the fisher village, Graden Wester, as it was
called, look up all the newspapers I could find, and see for myself
if there seemed any basis of fact for these continued alarms. The
next morning, at the same hour and place, I was to make my report
to Clara. She said no more on that occasion about my departure;
nor, indeed, did she make it a secret that she clung to the thought
of my proximity as something helpful and pleasant; and, for my
part, I could not have left her, if she had gone upon her knees to
ask it.

I reached Graden Wester before ten in the forenoon; for in those
days I was an excellent pedestrian, and the distance, as I think I
have said, was little over seven miles; fine walking all the way
upon the springy turf. The village is one of the bleakest on that
coast, which is saying much: there is a church in a hollow; a
miserable haven in the rocks, where many boats have been lost as
they returned from fishing; two or three score of stone houses
arranged along the beach and in two streets, one leading from the
harbour, and another striking out from it at right angles; and, at
the corner of these two, a very dark and cheerless tavern, by way
of principal hotel.

I had dressed myself somewhat more suitably to my station in life,
and at once called upon the minister in his little manse beside the
graveyard. He knew me, although it was more than nine years since
we had met; and when I told him that I had been long upon a walking
tour, and was behind with the news, readily lent me an armful of
newspapers, dating from a month back to the day before. With these
I sought the tavern, and, ordering some breakfast, sat down to
study the "Huddlestone Failure."

It had been, it appeared, a very flagrant case. Thousands of
persons were reduced to poverty; and one in particular had blown
out his brains as soon as payment was suspended. It was strange to
myself that, while I read these details, I continued rather to
sympathise with Mr. Huddlestone than with his victims; so complete
already was the empire of my love for my wife. A price was
naturally set upon the banker's head; and, as the case was
inexcusable and the public indignation thoroughly aroused, the
unusual figure of 750 pounds was offered for his capture. He was
reported to have large sums of money in his possession. One day,
he had been heard of in Spain; the next, there was sure
intelligence that he was still lurking between Manchester and
Liverpool, or along the border of Wales; and the day after, a
telegram would announce his arrival in Cuba or Yucatan. But in all
this there was no word of an Italian, nor any sign of mystery.

In the very last paper, however, there was one item not so clear.
The accountants who were charged to verify the failure had, it
seemed, come upon the traces of a very large number of thousands,
which figured for some time in the transactions of the house of
Huddlestone; but which came from nowhere, and disappeared in the
same mysterious fashion. It was only once referred to by name, and
then under the initials "X. X."; but it had plainly been floated
for the first time into the business at a period of great
depression some six years ago. The name of a distinguished Royal
personage had been mentioned by rumour in connection with this sum.
"The cowardly desperado" - such, I remember, was the editorial
expression - was supposed to have escaped with a large part of this
mysterious fund still in his possession.

I was still brooding over the fact, and trying to torture it into
some connection with Mr. Huddlestone's danger, when a man entered
the tavern and asked for some bread and cheese with a decided
foreign accent.

"SIETE ITALIANO?" said I.

"SI, SIGNOR," was his reply.

I said it was unusually far north to find one of his compatriots;
at which he shrugged his shoulders, and replied that a man would go
anywhere to find work. What work he could hope to find at Graden
Wester, I was totally unable to conceive; and the incident struck
so unpleasantly upon my mind, that I asked the landlord, while he
was counting me some change, whether he had ever before seen an
Italian in the village. He said he had once seen some Norwegians,
who had been shipwrecked on the other side of Graden Ness and
rescued by the lifeboat from Cauldhaven.

"No!" said I; "but an Italian, like the man who has just had bread
and cheese."

"What?" cried he, "yon black-avised fellow wi' the teeth? Was he
an I-talian? Weel, yon's the first that ever I saw, an' I dare say
he's like to be the last."

Even as he was speaking, I raised my eyes, and, casting a glance
into the street, beheld three men in earnest conversation together,
and not thirty yards away. One of them was my recent companion in
the tavern parlour; the other two, by their handsome, sallow
features and soft hats, should evidently belong to the same race.
A crowd of village children stood around them, gesticulating and
talking gibberish in imitation. The trio looked singularly foreign
to the bleak dirty street in which they were standing, and the dark
grey heaven that overspread them; and I confess my incredulity
received at that moment a shock from which it never recovered. I
might reason with myself as I pleased, but I could not argue down
the effect of what I had seen, and I began to share in the Italian
terror.

It was already drawing towards the close of the day before I had
returned the newspapers at the manse, and got well forward on to
the links on my way home. I shall never forget that walk. It grew
very cold and boisterous; the wind sang in the short grass about my
feet; thin rain showers came running on the gusts; and an immense
mountain range of clouds began to arise out of the bosom of the
sea. It would be hard to imagine a more dismal evening; and
whether it was from these external influences, or because my nerves
were already affected by what I had heard and seen, my thoughts
were as gloomy as the weather.

The upper windows of the pavilion commanded a considerable spread
of links in the direction of Graden Wester. To avoid observation,
it was necessary to hug the beach until I had gained cover from the
higher sand-hills on the little headland, when I might strike
across, through the hollows, for the margin of the wood. The sun
was about setting; the tide was low, and all the quicksands
uncovered; and I was moving along, lost in unpleasant thought, when
I was suddenly thunderstruck to perceive the prints of human feet.
They ran parallel to my own course, but low down upon the beach
instead of along the border of the turf; and, when I examined them,
I saw at once, by the size and coarseness of the impression, that
it was a stranger to me and to those in the pavilion who had
recently passed that way. Not only so; but from the recklessness
of the course which he had followed, steering near to the most
formidable portions of the sand, he was as evidently a stranger to
the country and to the ill-repute of Graden beach.

Step by step I followed the prints; until, a quarter of a mile
farther, I beheld them die away into the south-eastern boundary of
Graden Floe. There, whoever he was, the miserable man had
perished. One or two gulls, who had, perhaps, seen him disappear,
wheeled over his sepulchre with their usual melancholy piping. The
sun had broken through the clouds by a last effort, and coloured
the wide level of quicksands with a dusky purple. I stood for some
time gazing at the spot, chilled and disheartened by my own
reflections, and with a strong and commanding consciousness of
death. I remember wondering how long the tragedy had taken, and
whether his screams had been audible at the pavilion. And then,
making a strong resolution, I was about to tear myself away, when a
gust fiercer than usual fell upon this quarter of the beach, and I
saw now, whirling high in air, now skimming lightly across the
surface of the sands, a soft, black, felt hat, somewhat conical in
shape, such as I had remarked already on the heads of the Italians.

I believe, but I am not sure, that I uttered a cry. The wind was
driving the hat shoreward, and I ran round the border of the floe
to be ready against its arrival. The gust fell, dropping the hat
for a while upon the quicksand, and then, once more freshening,
landed it a few yards from where I stood. I seized it with the
interest you may imagine. It had seen some service; indeed, it was
rustier than either of those I had seen that day upon the street.
The lining was red, stamped with the name of the maker, which I
have forgotten, and that of the place of manufacture, VENEDIG.
This (it is not yet forgotten) was the name given by the Austrians
to the beautiful city of Venice, then, and for long after, a part
of their dominions.

The shock was complete. I saw imaginary Italians upon every side;
and for the first, and, I may say, for the last time in my
experience, became overpowered by what is called a panic terror. I
knew nothing, that is, to be afraid of, and yet I admit that I was
heartily afraid; and it was with a sensible reluctance that I
returned to my exposed and solitary camp in the Sea-Wood.

There I ate some cold porridge which had been left over from the
night before, for I was disinclined to make a fire; and, feeling
strengthened and reassured, dismissed all these fanciful terrors
from my mind, and lay down to sleep with composure.

How long I may have slept it is impossible for me to guess; but I
was awakened at last by a sudden, blinding flash of light into my
face. It woke me like a blow. In an instant I was upon my knees.
But the light had gone as suddenly as it came. The darkness was
intense. And, as it was blowing great guns from the sea and
pouring with rain, the noises of the storm effectually concealed
all others.

It was, I dare say, half a minute before I regained my self-
possession. But for two circumstances, I should have thought I had
been awakened by some new and vivid form of nightmare. First, the
flap of my tent, which I had shut carefully when I retired, was now
unfastened; and, second, I could still perceive, with a sharpness
that excluded any theory of hallucination, the smell of hot metal
and of burning oil. The conclusion was obvious. I had been
wakened by some one flashing a bull's-eye lantern in my face. It
had been but a flash, and away. He had seen my face, and then
gone. I asked myself the object of so strange a proceeding, and
the answer came pat. The man, whoever he was, had thought to
recognise me, and he had not. There was yet another question
unresolved; and to this, I may say, I feared to give an answer; if
he had recognised me, what would he have done?

My fears were immediately diverted from myself, for I saw that I
had been visited in a mistake; and I became persuaded that some
dreadful danger threatened the pavilion. It required some nerve to
issue forth into the black and intricate thicket which surrounded
and overhung the den; but I groped my way to the links, drenched
with rain, beaten upon and deafened by the gusts, and fearing at
every step to lay my hand upon some lurking adversary. The
darkness was so complete that I might have been surrounded by an
army and yet none the wiser, and the uproar of the gale so loud
that my hearing was as useless as my sight.

For the rest of that night, which seemed interminably long, I
patrolled the vicinity of the pavilion, without seeing a living
creature or hearing any noise but the concert of the wind, the sea,
and the rain. A light in the upper story filtered through a cranny
of the shutter, and kept me company till the approach of dawn.

CHAPTER V - TELLS OF AN INTERVIEW BETWEEN NORTHMOUR, CLARA, AND
MYSELF

With the first peep of day, I retired from the open to my old lair
among the sand-hills, there to await the coming of my wife. The
morning was grey, wild, and melancholy; the wind moderated before
sunrise, and then went about, and blew in puffs from the shore; the
sea began to go down, but the rain still fell without mercy. Over
all the wilderness of links there was not a creature to be seen.
Yet I felt sure the neighbourhood was alive with skulking foes.
The light that had been so suddenly and surprisingly flashed upon
my face as I lay sleeping, and the hat that had been blown ashore
by the wind from over Graden Floe, were two speaking signals of the
peril that environed Clara and the party in the pavilion.

It was, perhaps, half-past seven, or nearer eight, before I saw the
door open, and that dear figure come towards me in the rain. I was
waiting for her on the beach before she had crossed the sand-hills.

"I have had such trouble to come!" she cried. "They did not wish
me to go walking in the rain."

"Clara," I said, "you are not frightened!"

"No," said she, with a simplicity that filled my heart with
confidence. For my wife was the bravest as well as the best of
women; in my experience, I have not found the two go always
together, but with her they did; and she combined the extreme of
fortitude with the most endearing and beautiful virtues.

I told her what had happened; and, though her cheek grew visibly
paler, she retained perfect control over her senses.

"You see now that I am safe," said I, in conclusion. "They do not
mean to harm me; for, had they chosen, I was a dead man last
night."

She laid her hand upon my arm.

"And I had no presentiment!" she cried.

Her accent thrilled me with delight. I put my arm about her, and
strained her to my side; and, before either of us was aware, her
hands were on my shoulders and my lips upon her mouth. Yet up to
that moment no word of love had passed between us. To this day I
remember the touch of her cheek, which was wet and cold with the
rain; and many a time since, when she has been washing her face, I
have kissed it again for the sake of that morning on the beach.
Now that she is taken from me, and I finish my pilgrimage alone, I
recall our old lovingkindnesses and the deep honesty and affection
which united us, and my present loss seems but a trifle in
comparison.

We may have thus stood for some seconds - for time passes quickly
with lovers - before we were startled by a peal of laughter close
at hand. It was not natural mirth, but seemed to be affected in
order to conceal an angrier feeling. We both turned, though I
still kept my left arm about Clara's waist; nor did she seek to
withdraw herself; and there, a few paces off upon the beach, stood
Northmour, his head lowered, his hands behind his back, his
nostrils white with passion.

"Ah! Cassilis!" he said, as I disclosed my face.

"That same," said I; for I was not at all put about.

"And so, Miss Huddlestone," he continued slowly but savagely, "this
is how you keep your faith to your father and to me? This is the
value you set upon your father's life? And you are so infatuated
with this young gentleman that you must brave ruin, and decency,
and common human caution - "

"Miss Huddlestone - " I was beginning to interrupt him, when he, in
his turn, cut in brutally -

"You hold your tongue," said he; "I am speaking to that girl."

"That girl, as you call her, is my wife," said I; and my wife only
leaned a little nearer, so that I knew she had affirmed my words.

"Your what?" he cried. "You lie!"

"Northmour," I said, "we all know you have a bad temper, and I am
the last man to be irritated by words. For all that, I propose
that you speak lower, for I am convinced that we are not alone."

He looked round him, and it was plain my remark had in some degree
sobered his passion. "What do you mean?" he asked.

I only said one word: "Italians."

He swore a round oath, and looked at us, from one to the other.

"Mr. Cassilis knows all that I know," said my wife.

"What I want to know," he broke out, "is where the devil Mr.
Cassilis comes from, and what the devil Mr. Cassilis is doing here.
You say you are married; that I do not believe. If you were,
Graden Floe would soon divorce you; four minutes and a half,
Cassilis. I keep my private cemetery for my friends."

"It took somewhat longer," said I, "for that Italian."

He looked at me for a moment half daunted, and then, almost
civilly, asked me to tell my story. "You have too much the
advantage of me, Cassilis," he added. I complied of course; and he
listened, with several ejaculations, while I told him how I had
come to Graden: that it was I whom he had tried to murder on the
night of landing; and what I had subsequently seen and heard of the
Italians.

"Well," said he, when I had done, "it is here at last; there is no
mistake about that. And what, may I ask, do you propose to do?"

"I propose to stay with you and lend a hand," said I.

"You are a brave man," he returned, with a peculiar intonation.

"I am not afraid," said I.

"And so," he continued, "I am to understand that you two are
married? And you stand up to it before my face, Miss Huddlestone?"

"We are not yet married," said Clara; "but we shall be as soon as
we can."

"Bravo!" cried Northmour. "And the bargain? D-n it, you're not a
fool, young woman; I may call a spade a spade with you. How about
the bargain? You know as well as I do what your father's life
depends upon. I have only to put my hands under my coat-tails and
walk away, and his throat would he cut before the evening."

"Yes, Mr. Northmour," returned Clara, with great spirit; "but that
is what you will never do. You made a bargain that was unworthy of
a gentleman; but you are a gentleman for all that, and you will
never desert a man whom you have begun to help."

"Aha!" said he. "You think I will give my yacht for nothing? You
think I will risk my life and liberty for love of the old
gentleman; and then, I suppose, be best man at the wedding, to wind
up? Well," he added, with an odd smile, "perhaps you are not
altogether wrong. But ask Cassilis here. HE knows me. Am I a man
to trust? Am I safe and scrupulous? Am I kind?"

"I know you talk a great deal, and sometimes, I think, very
foolishly," replied Clara, "but I know you are a gentleman, and I
am not the least afraid."

He looked at her with a peculiar approval and admiration; then,
turning to me, "Do you think I would give her up without a
struggle, Frank?" said he. "I tell you plainly, you look out. The
next time we come to blows - "

"Will make the third," I interrupted, smiling.

"Aye, true; so it will," he said. "I had forgotten. Well, the
third time's lucky."

"The third time, you mean, you will have the crew of the RED EARL
to help," I said.

"Do you hear him?" he asked, turning to my wife.

"I hear two men speaking like cowards," said she. "I should
despise myself either to think or speak like that. And neither of
you believe one word that you are saying, which makes it the more
wicked and silly."

"She's a trump!" cried Northmour. "But she's not yet Mrs.
Cassilis. I say no more. The present is not for me." Then my
wife surprised me.

"I leave you here," she said suddenly. "My father has been too
long alone. But remember this: you are to be friends, for you are
both good friends to me."

She has since told me her reason for this step. As long as she
remained, she declares that we two would have continued to quarrel;
and I suppose that she was right, for when she was gone we fell at
once into a sort of confidentiality.

Northmour stared after her as she went away over the sand-hill

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