I leaped up from the wet ground with wildly-beating heart. Was it some mocking trick of the storm—that voice in my ears, that dear, dear voice? My eyes seemed dilated, and through the deep gloom I saw a tall figure striding toward me. Then I know that I cried out and called to him by his name; and alas! by the tone of my voice, and the light that flashed into my face, my secret was gone! For evil or for good he knew then that I loved him!
CHAPTER XXVI
STORMS
There came a time then of blessed and grateful unconsciousness. The tumult of the storm was reduced to a mere singing in my ears, and darkness seemed to have closed in around me. When I opened my eyes, I was resting in his arms, and a delicious sense of happiness was stealing through me. Sensation had overpowered memory, and I was happy. Ah! if life could have ended then—that was how I felt. If only the future and that shrunken relentless figure pointing me on to tragedy—if only they could have melted away! Alas! alas!
He had become bold at my mute self-yielding, and at something which he must have seen in my face. I felt him bending down over me, and suddenly my lips partly opened to frame the feeblest of protests were closed in a long passionate kiss, and his arms drew me toward him. Still I made no effort to release myself. A desperate self-abandonment had crept in upon me. The happiness of that moment should recompense me for the misery to come. Time took to itself wings then; I had no power or will to measure it. If hell itself had been yawning at my feet, I was content.
It was he who spoke at last, still clasping my hands, and looking eagerly into my face.
"Margharita, my love, I have come back to you. How shall I bless this storm!"
"Have you been in danger?" I asked softly.
"Nothing to speak of," he laughed. "We ran for Yarmouth harbor directly we saw what was coming, and only lost a few spars. What a sea it was, though. Wave after wave broke over our bows and swept the deck. It was a miracle we lost no men."