observing a shiver on the part of lorelie, due to the chilly air, idris rose to put into effect a plan that had suddenly occurred to him. charming as the situation was to himself, he had no wish to prolong it at the expense of discomfort to his companion.
"'ye gods, i grow a talker.' i do wrong to sit here inactive. the air is becoming cold. since no boat has hove in sight it is time we tried to attract one. some of this timber, piled upon the rocks at the entrance of our cave, and set alight, will 'contrive a double debt to pay'—of giving warmth to yourself, and of serving as a signal-fire to the coast-guard of ormsby."
collecting a supply of logs and planks, idris proceeded to form them into a little pyramid upon the boulders outside the mouth of the cavern. he applied a lighted match to the pile, and within a few minutes a glorious bonfire was blazing upon the rock, challenging the pale light of the moon, and flinging a ruddy glow over the breast of the heaving waters around.
"now, mademoiselle rivière, if you will sit in this nook here, you will be both sheltered from the wind and warmed by the fire."
lorelie accepted the suggestion: and, as her ankle was still painful, she permitted idris to assist her to the assigned spot, where she sat, pleased with the cheerful warmth.
[pg 151]
"this blaze ought surely to be seen and understood as a signal of distress," said idris.
as he stared at the distant moonlit cliff behind which the town of ormsby lay hidden, he suddenly became aware that lorelie was speaking.
"idris! idris!"
he turned quickly with a curious feeling. surely she was not addressing him by his christian name? let his name sound ever so silvery as it came from her lips, still, this mode of address in a friendship so recently formed as theirs, was a familiarity which jarred upon him.
"idris! idris!" she repeated.
"yes, mademoiselle rivière," he replied, with a cold and significant emphasis upon the second word.
but he found her eyes fixed, not upon him, but upon the flames. he followed the direction of her gaze and beheld a surprising sight. there, burning in the fire, was a thick piece of planking, and on the part of it not yet consumed were five black-painted letters, forming in their arrangement the word:—
"i-d-r-i-s!"
his own name! yes: there it was, plain to be seen on the plank, the black characters shining out clearly through the yellow flame.
lorelie had simply been murmuring the word as it caught her eyes, without any intention of addressing him by it.
how came his name to be inscribed on this piece of timber? if the materials composing the fire were driftwood picked up from the beach (and he did not doubt that such was the origin of the timber in the cave), then this plank was probably a relic of a sunken vessel, the word idris forming its name.
was there any connection between himself and this lost barque other than mere identity of name?
[pg 152]
his active mind, eager to give an affirmative to this question, immediately devised a theory. captain rochefort, on flying from brittany with eric marville, would be compelled by considerations of safety either to disguise and rename the yacht in which the flight had been effected, or, what was more probable, dispose of the nemesis in some way, and purchase another vessel. that captain rochefort had so acted, naming his new barque after the son of his escaped friend, became idris' firm conviction: for, lost to reason in his excitement, he overlooked the possibility that other yacht-owners might have a partiality for the same name.
the plank now burning before his eyes had come from the figure-head of the yacht in which his father and captain rochefort had cruised about, after disposing of the nemesis.
what more likely than that, on discovering the meaning of the norse runes (a copy of which had been made by rochefort while the altar-ring was in his possession), the two friends, in a spirit of adventure, should steer their yacht's course to ormsby, the site of the supposed treasure? and here off this coast their vessel had foundered.
this conclusion, if correct, would seem almost to justify the idea that it was impossible to escape from the malign influence of odin's ring.
desire for its possession had led eric marville into a mischance that had doomed him to a prison-life: he had escaped from the convict's cell, and had wrested the secret from the runic ring, only to meet with a watery grave in sight of the very treasure-hill that he had come to explore!
but, stay! had eric marville and captain rochefort perished in the fierce currents of ormsby race, or had one, or both, been washed ashore alive? was the[pg 153] removal of the viking's treasure due to one of them, or to the joint action of the two?
so occupied was idris with these thoughts that he had almost forgotten the presence of lorelie, but now, on glancing at her, he noticed that her face wore a grave, not to say startled, expression, obviously due to the name that had been so strangely presented to her view. the discovery seemed to disquiet her as much as it disquieted himself.
then in a moment it occurred to him that the dead in saint oswald's churchyard, whose grave she was decking with a marble cross, were men who had perished in the sinking of this same vessel, the idris. lorelie could explain the mystery, if she chose. he resolved to question her.
"mademoiselle rivière," he began, in an earnest tone, "i believe it is within your power to throw some light upon a matter that, to me, is one almost of life and death. pardon me, if i presume too much on our very recent friendship. to come to the point, i beg, nay, i entreat of you, to tell me all you know concerning the vessel whose timbers we see burning before us, the yacht idris, that went down in ormsby race on the night of the thirteenth of october, 1876."
swift surprise stole over lorelie's face.
"and why should you think that i know anything of that lost vessel?"
"ah! mademoiselle, you are not erecting a costly memorial over the grave of men of whom you know nothing."
lorelie was silent for a few moments, as if reflecting how to answer an obviously embarrassing question.
"it is true," she said at last. "i will admit that i do know something of that lost vessel, and that i have taken a deep interest in it."
[pg 154]
"the vessel carried some one dear to you?"
"really, mr. breakspear, you are very curious," she cried, with a flash of her bright eyes. "before answering i must know the motive for this catechism."
"i have reason to believe," answered idris, "that there was on board one, eric marville by name."
"and what," asked lorelie—and at the chilling fall in her voice idris started—"what is eric marville to you, that you should take an interest in his fate?"
for a moment idris hesitated, loth to tell the woman whom he loved that he was the son of a fugitive convict. then he resolved to be frank, believing that if she were a true woman she would not despise him for a misfortune not of his own causing.
"eric marville," he answered humbly, "is my father's name."
at these words lorelie rivière shrank back in the hermit's seat, staring at idris, her face white, her hand lifted to her side.
"your father?" she gasped. "you eric marville's son—you?"
"the same, mademoiselle."
"no, no. it cannot be. you have said that your name is breakspear."
"for obvious reasons i have thought proper to assume my mother's maiden name."
"eric marville's son!" she repeated wildly. "impossible! i will not believe it." her wildness suddenly gave way to an air of disdain, and she exclaimed: "why do you seek to impose upon me? idris marville was burned to death at paris seven years ago."
"not so," replied idris, with a smile, as he proceeded to give his reasons for permitting himself to be advertised as dead.
as lorelie became gradually convinced of his identity[pg 155] a look of dismay came over her face. she shrank from him, and glanced down upon the sea, as if tempted to plunge beneath its surface.
"to think that you, you of all persons," she murmured in a tone of awe, "should have saved my life!"
"then by that fact, mademoiselle, i entreat you to tell me whether my father perished in that shipwreck. you doubtless know something of his sad history?"
"i ought to know," she returned, "seeing that my real name is lorelie rochefort."
"what do you say?" cried idris in amazement. "you are the daughter of captain noel rochefort?"
she inclined her head in assent.
"then we shall be the best of friends, as our fathers were before us."
"you speak without knowledge," she replied, with a curious dry laugh.
"did not captain rochefort prove his friendship by aiding my father to escape?"
"at my mother's urging: he would not otherwise have moved in the matter."
"why was madame rochefort so anxious to see my father free?"
"you must not ask me that," replied lorelie quickly, and looking alarmed the moment afterwards, as if betrayed into a rash statement.
this was certainly a strange answer, and idris pondered over it in the silence that followed. there seemed no other explanation of her words than that there had existed a guilty love-intrigue between madame rochefort and eric marville. was it possible that lorelie herself was the offspring of——? with a shiver he put the suspicion aside. no: he would not think that!
"is captain rochefort still living?"
"it is extremely unlikely."
[pg 156]
"he went down with the yacht idris?"
"in all probability."
"he was not among the bodies washed ashore?"
"they were bruised and swollen beyond recognition."
"was my father on board the yacht the night it sank?"
"so far as i have been able to gather he was not."
"not?" said idris, in a tone of joy. "then he may still be living. may i ask, mademoiselle, how you have learned this?"
"from my father's last letter to my mother, with whom he kept up a correspondence during his cruise. the letter is dated 'the yacht idris. in ormsby roads, october 13th, 1876. 7 p. m.,' and the postscript is something to this effect, 'marville is going ashore, leaving me aboard. he will not return till the morrow. i am despatching this letter to the post by the sailor who rows marville ashore.' those are the last words my mother received. that same night, four hours after the letter was written, the idris went down."
"and you cannot tell me whether my father is living to-day?"
"i know nothing more of eric marville since the night of the wreck."
"you have preserved all your father's letters?"
"naturally."
idris here ventured on a very bold request.
"would it be asking too much to let me see this correspondence, or at least, some part of it?"
"not if you were to give me a diamond for each word it contained," she said firmly.
"at least, mademoiselle," he continued more humbly, "you will give me the purport of those passages that relate to my father?"
"that would be to compromise myself."
[pg 157]
"whatever secrets those letters contain shall be respected by me."
"not so," said lorelie sadly. "mr. breakspear, idris marville, or whatever name you will, i believe you to be a man of honour——"
"then why not trust me?"
"because you would consider yourself justified in breaking your pledge of secrecy. i dare not trust you. no oath could be binding in such a case as this. you would proclaim aloud to the world the contents of those letters."
in spite of her words, idris, with justifiable curiosity, continued to press her with questions relative to his father's movements after the flight from quilaix, but to all his interrogations lorelie remained coldly mute.
"and you will tell me nothing more than you have told?" he said at last.
his sorrowful tone seemed to touch her to the quick. the icy expression faded from her face and gave way to one of warmth and tenderness. her eyes became luminous with tears, but, as if desirous of resisting his pleading, she averted her head and hid her face in her hands.
"do not question me further," she entreated. "not to answer is painful, but to answer would be more painful still. o, why did you reveal your true name? i shall never be happy again. if i had but known you twelve months ago, all would have been well, but now—now it is too late. in revealing what you wish, nay, what you ought to know, i should be injuring the interests of, not myself, for that would matter little, but the interests of others. you do not understand—how should you?—but some day you will learn my meaning, and then—and then——" her voice faltered, "how the world will despise me! you more than all others.[pg 158] mr. breakspear, if you knew my real character you would have left me lying on the sand to be overwhelmed by the tide. i would that you had!"
though idris knew not what meaning to affix to this speech, it did not abate in one degree his love for her: nay, her very air of humiliation, plaintive and touching, served only to enhance her attractiveness. when he recalled the heroic look upon her face in the presence of death, and the clasping of her hands in prayer upon her deliverance, he could not bring himself to think ill of her. her mysterious self-accusations must be the result of some delusion: or, if something did attach to her that the world would call guilt, he did not doubt that justification would be found for it.
"mademoiselle," he replied, with a grave smile, "you seem to regard me in the light of an enemy, when my chief desire is to occupy a high place in your friendship." he would have said "heart" had he dared. "since the subject of the yacht is painful to you, i will not refer to it again in your presence."
"then my reticence will not make an enemy of you?" asked lorelie, raising her beautiful eyes with a yearning in them that moved him strangely.
"certainly not, mademoiselle. let me know that you do not despise me on account of my father's guilt, or supposed guilt, and i am content."
"despise you? oh, no! how can you say that? mr. breakspear," she continued, with a faltering voice, "if—if there be one circumstance more than another that enlists my sympathies in your behalf, it is—the—the event of which you speak."
the pitying look in her eyes caused idris' blood to course like liquid fire through his veins. had she been the guiltiest woman living that glance would have palliated all and have made him her slave forever.
[pg 159]
there is no knowing what he might have said or done at this moment had he not been checked by a sudden exclamation from her. looking in the direction indicated by her he saw a boat rowed by seven of the ormsby fishermen coming over the waves towards them in gallant style.
"our imprisonment is drawing to an end," said idris, adding to himself, "the more's the pity."
the sight of the approaching boat seemed to put an end to lorelie's emotion. she began to regain something of her former sweet self.
by her own unaided efforts she rose to her feet, and leaning against the rock, waved her handkerchief as an encouragement to the rowers. a cheer broke from the men as soon as they recognized her; for, by reason of her liberality to the poor of ormsby, mademoiselle rivière had become, at least among the lower orders of the town, a favourite second only to beatrice ravengar herself.
ere long the boat's side grated against the rock, and lorelie, assisted by idris on the one hand, and by a gallant fisherman on the other, was lifted down from point to point, and finally lodged in the bow of the rocking boat, idris taking his seat beside her.
the still-flaming timbers of the fire having been extinguished by the easy process of tossing them into the sea, the men pushed off, and the hermit's cave rapidly receded from view.
in answer to the questioning of her rescuers lorelie gave an account of the circumstances which had led to the enforced captivity of herself and idris, adding:—
"we owe you something more substantial than thanks for responding so quickly to our fire-signal."
"lord bless you!" responded one of the crew gallantly, "to rescue such a bonny bird we would row fifty miles."
[pg 160]
they created quite a sensation as they drew near the beach of ormsby, where a miscellaneous crowd was assembled; for the news had been spread abroad by lorelie's frightened maid that her mistress had been missing since the morning, and, accordingly, it had been conjectured that the strange light visible at the foot of the distant cliff might have some connection with her disappearance. and when it was seen that the approaching boat contained the missing lady there arose an outburst of cheering and a waving of hats, that drew the colour to her hitherto pale cheek.
among the first to meet the boat at the water's edge was godfrey; and on learning that lorelie had hurt her foot, nothing less would satisfy him than an immediate inspection of her ankle.
"the case may be more serious than you think it," said he.
so lorelie, escorted by idris and godfrey, repaired, under smiling protest, to the parlour of a cottage fronting the beach, where, after due examination, the surgeon pronounced the injury to be nothing more serious than a sprain.
"still, you must not set your foot to the ground just yet," he added. "we will procure a carriage to take you home."
scarcely had he said this when the rattle of wheels was heard outside. a vehicle of some sort had drawn up in front of the cottage. a minute afterwards the parlour door opened giving entrance to viscount walden.
his acknowledgment of the surgeon was limited to, "ah! godfrey:" of idris he took no notice at all. walking up to lorelie he smiled in a manner which showed that they were no strangers to each other, and godfrey, recalling the viscount's utterances in the crypt of ravenhall, "i hope lorelie will be satisfied," looked[pg 161] on at their meeting with considerable interest, wondering whether there really were some guilty secret between them.
"mademoiselle rivière, i am delighted to meet you in england," said ivar. "passing along the road outside and observing the crowd in front of this cottage i stopped my carriage to ascertain the cause. imagine my surprise on learning that you were within. welcome to ormsby! you find our climate a little trying, i expect, after the sunny air and the blue skies of the riviera? you have sprained your ankle, i understand, and find a difficulty in walking. if you desire a carriage to convey you home, mine is at your service."
ivar's proposal to carry off lorelie in his own carriage roused all idris' jealousy, of which he had the ordinary mortal's share. it was not very agreeable to hear lorelie assenting, and to observe that she smiled upon ivar as pleasantly as she had smiled upon himself.
with a motion of her hand she directed the viscount's attention to idris.
"lord walden, mr.——"
"breakspear," interposed idris quickly, fearing lest she should inadvertently pronounce the name of marville.
lorelie gave him a sympathetic glance, which assured him that his secret was quite safe in her keeping.
"lord walden," she continued, "mr. breakspear, a gentleman to whom i owe my life."
in some surprise ivar turned to survey the saviour of mademoiselle rivière, and beheld a man of about thirty years, with fine dark eyes and an athletic figure—a man evidently of good birth; his countenance expressive of a spirit that showed if he should set his mind upon accomplishing an object, say of winning a woman's love, he would succeed, or make it go extremely ill with those who[pg 162] endeavoured to thwart him: and, noting all this, ivar, who was of a mean nature, took secret umbrage.
idris was about to offer his hand, but observing that the viscount was stiffly bowing with his hands behind him, he thought he could not do better than imitate the other's example.
for a moment the two men eyed each other, both apparently animated by a spirit of defiance, the cause of which was patent enough to godfrey in the person of the charming woman sitting between them.
idris, mindful of the fact that he was the son of an escaped convict, while ivar was the descendant of a line of belted earls, felt bitterly the contrast between their respective positions.
"how this fellow would sneer, if he knew the truth!" was his thought.
"lord save us!" the woman, who owned the cottage, whispered to godfrey. "how like they are! the same proud face upon each!"
the surgeon glanced from one to the other, and was compelled to admit that there certainly was a resemblance in features between the two men, a resemblance which would have been the stronger, had not idris been dark, and ivar fair.
while lorelie gave a brief account of her rescue, ivar listened with impatience, evidently of opinion that fortune, while permitting idris to save mademoiselle rivière, might at least have had the good sense to drown him afterwards.
"at the next parish council," said lorelie to godfrey, "you must call attention to the 'stairs of david.'"
"the ladder ought certainly to be seen to," said idris, "but for my part, mademoiselle," he added, bowing to lorelie, "i shall never regret the instability of that structure."
[pg 163]
ivar, who had refrained from speech both during lorelie's story and at its close, now offered his arm to help her to the carriage. a shade of vexation passed over her face at the viscount's obvious indifference to idris' services on her behalf.
"my ankle is still weak," she said, turning to idris. "mr. breakspear, may i ask for your help, too?"
idris responded with a cheerfulness that became the more cheerful as he noticed ivar's scowl.
thus escorted lorelie passed into the moonlit air without, and reached the brougham. idris held the door while she stepped in. the viscount followed, shutting the door with a loud slam, that said as plainly as words, "no more shall enter here."
lorelie looked more vexed than ever at this discourtesy towards godfrey and idris: but as the carriage was not hers it was out of her power to offer them a seat.
however, as if desirous of sweetening the parting, she extended her little hand through the carriage-window, accompanying her action with a gracious smile.
"good-night, mr. breakspear," she murmured, softly. "i shall never forget the debt i owe you."
"drive on," cried ivar, brusquely, to the coachman. "the cedars, north road."
the horses dashed off, and as the brougham turned the corner of the road, idris caught a glimpse of lorelie, bending forward at the carriage-window, with her face turned in his direction.
he lifted his hat, and the next moment she was lost to view.
"idris," said godfrey, "you love that young lady."
"and you must have a heart of stone not to love her, too."
"humph! it would be rather awkward if all men were[pg 164] to desire the same woman. isn't one rival enough for you?"
truth to tell, idris had been much disquieted by the readiness with which lorelie had surrendered herself to the will of viscount walden. it seemed almost as if some secret understanding existed between them. godfrey, though he refrained from saying so, had no doubt whatever on the point.
"all things being equal," he continued, "i believe the lady would favour you: but, you see, a prospective coronet is a very powerful attraction, and i fear the coronet will gain the day."
idris repudiated this forecast, vigorously anathematizing the name of viscount walden, after which his thoughts turned to a theme, almost equal in interest to his love for lorelie, namely, his father's fate.
"he was not on the yacht when it sank, so mademoiselle rivière declares: then what became of him? i did right to come to ormsby, it seems, since it was in this neighbourhood that he was last heard of. but, alas! that was twenty-two years ago. is he living to-day, and shall i ever find him?"
