Up and up they climbed, and as she paused for breath Pearl felt a delightful feeling of exaltation at the sight of these lofty trees, these grand and ancient pines, guarding like giant sentinels the balustrade of stone, and the wide and numberless steps, green with moss and age. She knew so well that this solemn approach led,--not to some magnificent palace, not to some temple, gorgeous with colouring, and wonderful with intricate carvings, but--buried within the heart of the forest--to a little lonely tomb of bronze, shaped like an urn, and guarded on either side by the sacred stork, the symbolic and gigantic lotus leaves.
What more noble--what more awe-inspiring than this towering, upward, and impressive approach to all that is most pathetically simple, most modestly unadorned of funeral monuments to the honoured and beloved dead? Only an artist mind of an artist country could have planned, created, and carried out this beautiful and poetical thought, and only artist minds, such as Pearl's and de Güldenfeldt's, could know how to appreciate,--how to adore,--the nobility and grandeur of the conception.
Pearl was still silent as she sat down on the stone coping surrounding the bronze urn, listening to the wind as it musically and eternally sighed through the banks of trees beyond. Just before starting for her walk Rosina had told her of Lady Martinworth's letter, and she was still under the influence of dismay aroused by the unwelcome news. A feeling not only of complete helplessness, but of approaching evil, overshadowed her. She felt stupefied, paralysed by what she had heard. The news was totally unexpected, for only the day before Pearl left Tokyo Lady Martinworth had volunteered the information of her approaching departure from Japan. Pearl found herself wondering what unforeseen circumstances could have caused her to change this determination. Was it that Lady Martinworth had made her arrangements without consulting her husband? and was it possible that he himself had other plans in view? In spite of his assurances and promises in her house that night, was it--could it be--that he wished to see her again, that he still had hopes, was still unwearied in his pursuit?
Pearl's growing dislike awakened her suspicions, and made her foresee and fear every probable, every improbable design on Martinworth's part, all sense of justice being swamped in this newborn dread of a man she had been willing not so long since to follow to the end of the world.
She was aroused from these anxious forebodings, these problematical and gloomy prognostications, by the sound of her companion's voice. He had seated himself by her side on the coping, and on glancing up into his face, Pearl was struck by its gravity and unusual pallor.
"Mrs. Nugent," he said slowly, looking at her very intently, "will you be so kind as to give me your attention for a few moments? I wish to ask you something."
Pearl, who understood instinctively the meaning of these preliminary words, flushed--merely bowing her assent.
"Some months ago," continued de Güldenfeldt gravely, "I ventured to ask you for your hand. You refused me. And I confess I took your refusal very much, very deeply to heart. I felt then that, however much I might desire you for my wife, I could never bring myself to repeat the request. But I love you dearly, Pearl,"--here his eyes grew large and soft as they rested on her face--"you are everything in the wide world to me. I feel I cannot live without you, and before this one absorbing passion of my life, all my surprise, my anger, my pride have fallen away from me, and now once more I beg you to listen to me, and to grant me the great gift of your most precious self."
As he said the last words, Stanislas rose from his seat, and standing before Pearl, held out his two hands towards her.
Pearl said nothing in reply, but with a smile of great sweetness simply placed her hands in his. He drew her up beside himself, and bending down, kissed her on the forehead.