The Cryptogram: A Novel

by James De Mille

Drifting!

Well, if one drifts any where, the Mediterranean is surely the best place; or, at least, the most favorable; for there all things combine to favor, in the highest degree, that state of moral "drifting" into which people sometimes fall.

The time passed quickly. Weeks flew by. Nothing new had been discovered. No information had come from Naples. No letter had come from Hilda. While Zillah waited, Windham also waited, and thus passed six or seven weeks in Marseilles, which was rather a long time for one who was hurrying home on important business. But he was anxious, he said, to see the result of the investigations of the police. That result was, at length, made known. It was nothing; and the chief of police advised Obed Chute to go on without delay to Naples, and urge the authorities there to instant action. He seemed to think that they had neglected the business, or else attended to it in such a way that it had failed utterly. He assured Obed Chute that he would still exert all his power to track the villain Gualtier, and, if possible, bring him to justice. This, Obed believed that he would do; for the chief had come now to feel a personal as well as a professional interest in the affair, as though somehow his credit were at stake. Under these circumstances, Obed prepared to take his family and Miss Lorton to Naples, by the next steamer.

Windham said nothing. There was a pallor on the face of each of them as Obed told them his plan--telling it, too, with the air of one who is communicating the most joyful intelligence, and thinking nothing of the way in which such joyous news is received. Zillah made no observation. Involuntarily her eyes sought those of Windham. She read in his face a depth of despair which was without hope--profound--unalterable--unmovable.

That day they took their last ride. But few words passed between them. Windham was gloomy and taciturn. Zillah was silent and sad. At length, as they rode back, they came to a place on the shore a few miles away from the city. Here Windham reined in his horse, and, as Zillah stopped, he pointed out to the sea.

The sun was setting. Its rich red light fell full upon the face of Zillah, lighting it up with radiant glory as it did on that memorable morning when her beautiful face was upturned as her head lay upon his breast, and her gleaming ebon hair floated over his shoulders. He looked at her. Her eyes were not closed now, as they were then, but looked back into his, revealing in their unfathomable depths an abyss of melancholy, of sorrow, of longing, and of tenderness.

"Miss Lorton," said Windham, in a deep voice, which was shaken by an uncontrollable emotion, and whose tremulous tones thrilled through all Zillah's being, and often and often afterward recurred to her memory--"Miss Lorton, this is our last ride--our last interview. Here I will say my last farewell. To-morrow I will see you, but not alone. Oh, my friend, my friend, my sweet friend, whom I held in my arms once, as I saved you from death, we must now part forever! I go--I must go. My God! where? To a life of horror! to a living death! to a future without one ray of hope! Once it was dark enough, God knows; but now--but; now it is intolerable; for since I have seen you I tremble at the thought of encountering that which awaits me in England!"

He held out his hand as he concluded. Zillah's eyes fell. His words had been poured forth with passionate fervor. She had nothing to say. Her despair was as deep as his. She held out her hand to meet his. It was as cold as ice. He seized it with a convulsive grasp, and his frame trembled as he held it.

Suddenly, as she looked down, overcome by her own agitation, a sob struck her ears. She looked up. He seemed to be devouring her with his eyes, as they were fixed on her wildly, hungrily, yet despairingly. And from those eyes, which had so often gazed steadily and proudly in the face of death, there now fell, drop by drop, tears which seemed wrung out from his very heart. It was but for a moment. As he caught her eyes he dropped her hand, and hastily brushed his tears away. Zillah's heart throbbed fast and furiously; it seemed ready to burst. Her breath failed; she reeled in her saddle. But the paroxysm passed, and she regained her self-command.

"Let us ride home," said Windham, in a stern voice.