So he came and sat by my side. It is not my purpose to set down all that passed between us that day. There are pages in our lives which we never willingly open; which have for us a peculiar sacredness, and a sweetness which never altogether fades away. There came a sort of abandon upon me, the forerunner of a fit of nervous desperation which well-nigh sent us both, hand in hand, into another world—closed the gates of my memory upon the past, and withdrew my shuddering thoughts from the future, to steep them in the delight of the present. My lover sat by my side, and his words were filling my heart with music. The strong sea breeze blew in our faces, and the salt spray leaped like glittering silver into the sunlight. Over our heads the sea-gulls screamed, and the coast line grew faint in the distance. So we sailed on, hand in hand, heart whispering to heart in the golden silence, till the sun lay low in the west, and our tiny craft pitched and tossed in the trough of the ocean waves.
Then my lover suddenly became conscious of time and place, and he sprang up bewildered.
"A miracle!" he cried. "The sun is low, and it cannot yet be afternoon."
"Flatterer," I laughed, showing him my watch. "It is past five o'clock."
He looked round as he gathered in the sail, and a shade of anxiety crept into his face. Especially he looked with bewildered eyes at the faint blue line where land lay.
"What an idiot I have been," he said, knitting his brows. "Port, Margharita! The left string! That's right! Now, sit firm, and when we go down, lean to the other side. You mustn't mind if you get a little wet. We are running in the teeth of the wind, and it will be roughish."
It was deliciously exhilarating. The breeze, without our noticing it, had been gradually freshening, and now it was almost a gale. The sky above was mackerel-hued and wind-swept. The sea seemed to be getting rougher every minute. Lord Lumley had to pass his arm round the frail mast which creaked and bent with the straining of the sail. Once we heeled right over, and were within an ace of being capsized. I only laughed, and the color came into my cheeks. Death would be a sweet and welcome thing, I thought—death here on the ocean, with my lover's arms around me. So I had no fear, and Lord Lumley found time to glance at me admiringly.
"You're the pluckiest woman I ever knew in all my life!" he exclaimed lightly. "Gad! that was a shave! It's no use, dear, we must tack. This is too good to last."
Round we swept, first one way then another, but we made no headway. In an hour's time we were no nearer land, and in the gathering twilight the coast line was dim and blurred. Here and there we could see a few lights burning from the villages along the shore, and away northward the revolving light from Gorton headland shone out like a beacon.
"What will become of us?" I asked softly, for Lord Lumley had ceased his exertions for a moment with a little gesture of despair. His face was very pale, but it might have been from fatigue.