Chapter I
' And what to me, my love ? And what to me ?' The thyme it is withered, and rue is in prime. SHORT November day was drawing to its close beneath a threatening sky ; the sun was sinking in the sea — the wide western sea, whose league-long rollers lash the shores of Devon and of Cornwall ; and huge swell in"- waves, slowly gathering beneath the coming storm, rushed against the cliffs in sounding fury — not hurriedly, nor in con- VOL. I. i CORDELIA. fused heaps, but rank after rank, in mea sured order and majestic strength. So soft, so insidious was the roll of these mighty waves, that until they fell upon the beach in thunder the eye was deceived by the breadth and Aastness of the swell, and deemed the ocean scarcely ruffled. ButAvhen the wave broke and the roar of its fall filled the startled ear, then the eye saw dimly the resistless might of the threatening sea.
Inland the storm hovered on the hills in driving mists, Avhich flitted on from peak to peak, till all the country-side was covered with a Avhite veil. Sometimes this was lifted suddenly as by some magic force ; then a rugged hill loomed out A-isible, showing all its strength, its great moor stones lying in shining stillness, its steep paths Avinding upAvards, its AvaA-ing seas of heath and gorse, its torrents rushing doAvn wards, and its bare and dangerous declivi ties, abrupt as Avaterfalls and as glittering. CORDELIA. 3 All this Avould shine out for a brief moment in the face of the setting sun, then the insidious folds of mist enveloped it again, and a great curtain hanging from the sky shut out the vieAv. A little Avay from the cliff's edge a foot path wound, taking all the turns and ruggedness of the harsh coast, ascending and descending abruptly Avith the sharp rise and fall of the land.
On this path, with the mist around them, tAvo people, each unconscious of the other's presence, stood on this November evening looking seaward and westAvard towards the setting sun. The sky was barred with a dusky red, and flying clouds of the same hue spread upwards, as an aurora-borealis spreads, forming a fairy arch bending land wards. It was beneath this arch, and lit by its glow, that the tAvo watchers stood. W nen both had gazed their fill, one Avith eyes shaded by a slender hand, the other i — CORDELIA. with folded arms and a sombre look half defiant, they went on their several ways in opposite directions, yet each nearing the other. The path AAas but a narrow track upon the bleak moorland, and as each pedestrian rounded a huge granite rock, shining bare upon the heath, they came face to face.
With a sudden start both halted, the man in silence, the woman with a short sharp cry of surprise. ' You here !' she cried. ' Who would have thought to meet you in this Avild, lonely place ?' ' I may say the same thing,' answered the man. ' True,' she said. ' And it is strange Ave should both be here. But you know my restlessness. For a change, I come from the solitude of a city to the solitude of the wilderness.' ' Again I may say the same words,' returned the gentleman. CORDELIA. 5 The lady laughed. sympathy !' she said, 'May I ask if you agreeable as I do ?' ' What a Avonderful with a slip"ht sneer. o find the change as ' I find quiet,' he is all I seek.' answered ; ' and that 'Well, I have no wish to disturb your tranquillity.' And again her lip curled slightly, while her eyes sought his face Avith an inquiring look. 'Nor I yours,' he replied, with imper turbable calm. ' It is only carrying out an old compact to let each other alone,' she observed carelessly. 4 Quite so.
Nevertheless, I may be permitted to say I am glad to see you looking well.' Her eyes glistened at this, and a faint colour tinged the clear olive of her face. ' No ; compliments are not permitted. CORDELIA. They put one too much in mind of old times.' Her speech was a failure ; a dead silence folloAved it. She held her lips tightly together for an instant, and then spoke again : ' I wish I could return your com pliment, but you are not looking at all Avell.' ' Hard work is not conducive to good looks,' he said shortly. ' So you are still at the old trade, wearing out your brain — and heart, I Avas going to say,' she added ; ' only I am aAvare you do not possess that piece of the human anatomy.' Her light laugh passed aAvay on the wind ; it seemed to annoy the listener. He replied in a graver tone than ever : ' Yes, I still AA-ork, and time to me is still valuable.
I cannot afford to Avaste it. I am afraid I must ask you to alloAv me to pass on. The path is narroAV, but AA'ide enough, I hope, for us both.' CORDELIA. ' Quite,' she said, proudly this time ; and she made room for him to go by. jBut now he hesitated, and scanned her hard, handsome face with an earnest look. ' May I ask if you are staying in this neighbourhood ?' he said, putting a careless tone into his voice. ' No ; I have been visiting a cousin of Lord Martock's, whose place is on the other coast, but I leave it to-morrow on my way to Paris. A good change,' she added. ' I confess I have been bored.' ' Then what brought you to this solitary spot ?' he asked ; and this time he could not keep a shade of anxiety from his voice. ' Suppose I ask the same question,' re torted the lady. ' You are quite welcome to do so.
I am lodging in a little fishing-village near by, and this is my usual evening walk. I come to see the sunsets, which are peculiarly beautiful on this coast.' CORDELIA. ' How odd ! It is exactly the same reason that brought me I Avas told I must on no account leaA^e Cornwall without visiting its northern shore to see the sunset in the Atlantic. I am come, and, as usual, I am disappointed.' ' It is too late in the year for a really fine sunset,' he answered. ' In the autumn the sight is glorious as the sun sinks in the sea.' ' You appear to have made yourself ac quainted with the fact. You knoAv this. country, I suppose ?' ' Yes, I knoAv it.' ' And it is solitary enough eA-en for a hermit like you ?' ' Yes, it suits me.' ' It AA-ould drive me mad,' she said, Avith a sudden change of tone. ' But you haA'e some neighbours, I presume ; you can't live exactly like Alexander Selkirk on his. island.' CORDELIA. 9 ' Not exactly.
But my neighbours are very poor people ; the rich ones I do not visit. Then I do not stay here more than a few weeks at a time. I find it a relief to run doAvn here from my dusty chambers in Gray's Inn.' She listened earnestly to every word of this, and the expression of her face altered. It was as if some cloud of distrust or care had been cleared away. ' You were always eccentric,' she said, half smiling. ' But the pure air, perhaps, compensates you for rough fare and rough company. My carriage awaits me at the cross on the high road, and a native savage told me this Avas my nearest Avay to it. Is that true ? Am I going right ?' ' Yes. When you haA-e passed this rock you must folloAv the path, Avhich takes a. sudden turn to the right, and you will find yourself in the road in five minutes.' CORDELIA.
He lifted his hat, and stood aside for her to pass, but she did not move. ' Good-bye, Mr. Haslam,' she said, after a moment's pause. ' Good-bye, Lady Martock.' ' You might have said Letitia,' she re turned, passing him noAv with a someAvhat nervous hurry. ' I might not have said it ; your name belongs to Lord Martock,' he said, in a stiff, hard tone. She stopped, with head turned over her shoulder and face flushing into colour. 'To Lord Martock! Is it possible? HaA^e you not heard ? Do you not know he is dead ?' There was a moment's breathless silence, broken by the recurrent thunder of the sea and the shriek of the coming tempest. ' I had not heard of it,' he answered at length, speaking calmly, though his face had gathered paleness as hers had gathered CORDELIA. 11 colour, and he Avas now strangely white and haggard. ' It happened three months ago, in Swit zerland.
It Avas an accident. You ought to have seen it in the papers.' ' But I did not.' ' But you must have observed my mourning.' He looked at her noAv from head to foot, curiously, pitifully, yet with a contempt ill hidden. ' I perceive it, noAv you mention it. I hope you have reaped your reward, and everything is left as you wish.' ' You were ahvays cynical. Yes, I am very rich, if that is Avhat your question means. ' I am glad to hear it, for your own sake. Let me advise you to hurry to your car riage. There will be a downpour of rain shortly, and a storm in this county is no trifle' CORDELIA. ' Is this all you have to say to me, or are you forgetting I am free now ?' she said, with passion. His whole manner changed at her words, and grew harder, colder, more bitter. He drew near to her, leaning his hand upon the shining rock beside whose shelter they stood. ' I forget nothing.
Let me entreat you, Lady Martock, not to deem it necessary to refresh my memory ; there is no need. Your freedom is a matter of happiness, or of sorrow, for yourself, not for me. It cannot alter my life in the least.' ' It can — it must !' she said A^ehemently. ' Nothing can undo the past.' ' And that past parted us for ever. You must accept the consequences of your OAvn act, as I accepted them.' ' But all is changed now,' she returned eagerly. ' Not for me.' CORDELIA. 13 ' Then I have come here in vain !' she cried. ' If you really came hither to seek me, it is indeed in vain. The storm is fast ap proaching. Will you let me lead you to your carriage ?' ' No,' she said gloomily ; ' I prefer to go alone. I shall see you in London in the spring ?' ' We may meet, perhaps. And Avhat then ?' ' Oh, then I may have something to tell you ; or I will write from Paris.' He made no reply to this, and after a moment's pause, in which her glance fell upon him Avith something of anger and of menace in it, she turned abruptly aAvay. ' I shall only just escape the storm,' she said lightly. ' Once more, good-bye' ' Good-bye, Lady Martock.' They parted thus, Avithout a grasp of the hand ; and yet he stood still and watched CORDELIA. her retreating figure till the mists hid it from his sight ; while she, on her part, after a hurried step or tAvo, looked back and gave him a cold, strange smile ' A man's first love !' he murmured to himself, as he walked onwards musingly. ' I AA'onder if it is ever worth more than mine Avas.
So Lord Martock is dead ! With Avhat strange feelings I should haA'e heard that once ! N oav I only fear that his death may bring me more trouble than ever his life did.' Plunged in gloomy thought, his steps greAv slower and slower, till at length, turning his face seaAvards, he stood still, fascinated by the wild grandeur of the scene before him. All doAvn the shore, far as the eye could reach, the AvaA'es leaped and dashed madly upon 'the rocks, springing upAvards to the topmost cliffs as Avith Avhite arms of foam, and falling back Avith a sound like the CORDELIA. 15 mingled roar of many thunders. A lurid light, caught from the reddened sky, shone upon the sea, tingeing the waves with a crest of fire, Avhich they tossed onAvards from wave to Avave till the flame Avas lost in the boiling surf.
At the horizon a large ship was dimly visible labouring up Chan nel. Every instant she grew bigger to the sight, looming out from the western sky with sails all agloAv and fiery shadows on her path. The sun had sunk beneath cloud and ocean, but left his track on sea and sky in that crimson arch, Avhich made a double bow from cloud to Avave. The glory of this was Avaning now, and silently, from darkened cliff and sky, there stretched out long shadoAvs, in which the purple glories sunk and died. Gradually a grey shimmer crept upon the sea, and it glittered dimly beneath the eye — a vast AAater-wilderness, a heaving darkness, on which Avhite crests CORDELIA. rode and vanished, like sails of ghostly ships lost and forgotten. Night fell suddenly, and swallowed up'in its darkness the real ship seemed like wise a phantom, and the mind could scarcely grasp the fact that she Avas a reality — a little Avorld carrying a freight of human life, of hope, and fear, and courage, all battling now with the storm. ' She must fight it out, as Ave all must,' said Mr. Haslam, turning inland /rom the fierce gusts of Avind and the shoAvers of spray Avhich beat upon his face. ' A year or tAvo ago, I counted myself a human wreck, and I drifted into Boscombe as into a haven Avhere I could rest and be for gotten.
And noAv the tempest will drive me forth again. Yes, it is better so. I w-ill leave to-morroAv, and return no more' This was his resolve, but — ' There is a Providence doth shape our acts Rough-hew them as we may.' CORDELIA. 17 And Air. Haslam was not fated to quit so soon the sea-girt village, where at happy intervals during the last two years he had found a refuge and a rest. o VOL. I.
Chapter II
' Lie where the light foam of the sea may beat Thy grave-stone daily.' HE rectory lights gleamed out upon the darkly-shadowed road ; the long rays, shooting from the Avarm windows like electric cords, dreAv the solitary wayfarer to pause upon his homeAvard walk. He even halted at the entrance-gate, and with sorrowful yet eager gaze looked up the long avenue, AA'here sere leaves AA'ere drifting to and fro in the Avind Avith a wistful rustle, and the faint CORDELIA. 19 light os stars struggled vainly with the deep shadows of tall yellow-leafed elms. All round the house, standing above the "belt of darkness made by the great trees, there shone a radiance which lighted up the bright evergreens and the lingering flowers, and filled the air with the glow and warmth of home. Perhaps these household rays vexed the heart of the stranger, upon whom such Avarmth could never fall, for he turned suddenly aAvay with a sigh and a hurried step.
Or maybe his quick ear had caught the sound of voices floating towards him through the darkness of the avenue, and he Avished to avoid a greeting from people Avhose kindness he had hitherto civilly but persistently repelled. But if this was his reason, he was not quick enough. Scarcely had he gone a yard or two ere the gate was swung back, and the rector and his daughter stepped into the road. 2 CORDELIA. ' Who is there ?' asked Mr. Gwynne, in that sort of voice people are apt to use in country places Avhere they know every one. ' Hush, papa! it is Mr. Haslam,' said his daughter softly. 'Yes, it is I,' said Mr. Haslam, coming forward out of the gloom. ' I haA-e been on the cliff. I fear AA-e shall have a Avild night ; the wind is rising into a tempest.' ' Did you see a big ship disabled, and striving to keep off shore ?' asked the rector. ' I saAv a ship in the offing ; she seemed labouring heaA'ily, but I did not knoAV she was in any danger.' ' She is in danger of going to pieces,' said the rector ; ' in fact, nothing can saA-e her if she drh'es in upon this coast ; and I fear she will, for her engines have evidently broken doAvn, and she has only her sailing CORDELIA. 21 powers to depend on.
We are going to the village to see what can be done in case of need.' ' I will go with you,' said Mr. Haslam. Having raised his hat to Miss Gwynne, he did not further address her, but walked by her father's side, and listened to his tales of bygone wrecks and hair-breadth escapes of droAvning men. No man in England could tell such histories of wrecks as this Cornish rector. He had aided in the rescue of hundreds of perishing creatures, Avho, drawn from the waves, had found loving care and food and shelter beneath his generous roof. Very rarely had his brave and charitable deeds found a recorder ; but they lived in many a heart in unthought-of foreign villages and far-away homes, made deso late but for him. At the rectory, Mrs. Gwynne treasured a portfolio, filled with uncouth letters Avritten by wives and CORDELIA. mothers of shipAvrecked men, striving roughly, with a pathos past words, to give thanks for lives saved to them.
The rector's daughter had groAvn up in a wild and daring atmosphere, where loss was as common as light, and bravery never asked for glory or heard of praise. She had done more lowly, loving, and holy deeds than fall to the lot of ordinary women, and was" happy in having had this privilege in her simple life ; but it had come to her naturally as a duty, and never seemed to her strange or romantic. There was no romance in the shipwrecks of which the rector told ; no love-story had groAvn out of them ; no pale and beautiful prince had ever been cast ashore to aAvake to new life beneath the light of Cordelia's eyes. All the lives saved had been common lives of rough men, doing the hard rough work of those who ' go doAvn to the sea in ships.' CORDELIA. 23 On entering the village they found groups of men standing together, discus sing the ship's chance of escape, but pre paring all the while Avith rope and rocket, as if that chance Avere too shadowy to be counted on.
And it was so. The storm increased and rose to fury. No rain fell ; but the Avind gathered strength Avith the darkness, and its roar, mingling with the hoarse rush of the sea, filled the air with terror. ' Cordelia, you must go home,' said the rector hurriedly, ' and get ready what rooms and means you can. By God's help we shall saA'e some poor creatures from the sea. Cordelia dropped her hand from her father's arm, and drawing her hood well over her head, she made her way slowly through the storm and darkness, only saying a low ' Good-night ' to Mr. Haslam CORDELIA. as she passed him. He hesitated an in stant, and then spoke. 'Is no one going Avith you ?' he said. ' There is no need,' she ansAvered. ' The men are all wanted, and there is nothing to fear for me.' ' In this storm I think it is scarcely safe for you to go alone,' persisted Air.
Haslam. 'You had better accept Mr. Haslam's escort, Cordelia,' interposed the rector. ' The lightning is groAA'ing rather starto o o o ling.' Cordelia made no further objection, and Avalking side by side, yet keeping strangely silent, she and Mr. Haslam AA-ent up the A-illage street, then omvards past solitary cottages, till the hilly path was reached which led by a shorter route to the rectory. ' I Avould advise your going round by CORDELIA. 25 the longer road to-night,' Mr. Haslam said. ' It is far more sheltered.' Cordelia hesitated an instant before she acquiesced. She felt a strange impatience to be at home ; it was only the thought that the longer route Avould be the quicker, because the more easily traversed, that made her assent. ' I think it will be better,' she said quietly. Again they went on in silence, but it was a silence full of agitation on his side and of embarrassment on hers.
For nearly tAvo years the fair calm face and sweet low voice ef Cordelia G\vynne had haunted this man's dreams. It is rarely this can happen without some inkling of the truth touching the woman's heart, and hence it was that Cordelia was silent and embarrassed. They spoke a little of the storm and of the doomed ship, but words soon died away between them, both excusing their CORDELIA. silence by the howl of the tempest, which almost drowned speech. At the entrance-gate Mr. Haslam stopped, with his hand upon it. ' Miss Gwynne,' he said, ' will you let me say good-bye here ?' ' If you like,' she answered ; ' but mamma will be very pleased if you come in, Mr. Haslam.' ' I Avill see you to the door, but I cannot come in,' he returned. ' Then, in that case, Avhy say good-night here ?' asked Cordelia, stretching out her hand to the latch.
He caught her hand in his, and held it fast. ' I will say as many good-nights as you please at the house, if you will let me say my farewell here' ' Your farewell !' repeated Cordelia ; and she let her hand lie noAv in his Avithout resistance. CORDELIA. 27 ' Yes ; I leave Boscombe to-morrow.' ' But you will return to it at Christmas, as you did last year ?' Cordelia said, her eyes seeking his face through the gloom and dimness of the overshadoAving pines. ' No, Miss Gwynne ; I cannot return this winter.' ' In the spring, then ?' said Cordelia, a little anxiously. 'Nor in the spring. This is my last, my final visit to Boscombe. I must leave it to-morrow, never to return.' Cordelia withdreAv her hand suddenly from his — he had been holding it with a strange nervous strength — and then she held it towards him again, and spoke with a very slight change of voice : ' Then good-bye, Mr. Haslam.
I am sorry to hear of your resolve. Boscombe will miss you very much.' ' It is not my resolve,' he said oddly, 'or CORDELIA. my Avish. It will be a sad day for me to morrow.' ' Not your wish !' repeated Cordelia. ' Then why do you go ?' ' There are necessities in life AA'hich trample on inclination,' he said gloomily. ' Yes, I understand that ; but even you get a holiday at times, and then I am sure you will not forget Boscombe' ' Forget it ? No ! But I must not come again. I have been too happy here. Aliss Gwynne, I heard to-day of the death of a man who greatly influenced my life, and who, being dead, influences it still more. I must go, and my grief is that I leave you.' The words Avere said, and the moment they were spoken he Avould haA'e given years of his life to recall them. But their sound seemed to linger in the air ; in spite of the fierce raging of the tempest they were as audible as if uttered in the darkness of a still night.
CORDELIA. 29 A SAvift blush passed over Cordelia's face, but she remained silent : words Avould not come to her just then. She seemed to wait for him to speak again. When he did so, A-oice and manner Avere both changed. 'You are very happy, Aliss Gwynne, in your useful and tranquil life ; I trust no sorrow may ever disturb your peace. You Avill marry one day, doubtless. When that day comes, will you let me hear of it ? I should like then to send you some remem brance' This speech annoyed Cordelia. Mar riage was not one of the probabilities of her life ; he must knoAV that, she felt. He had seen for himself how quiet, how undis turbed, were the currents of her existence in this solitude. But it was not a matter to argue about, or even to discuss with him. ' Thank you,' she said, a little stiffly ; CORDELIA. ' you will need a remembrance more than I. London is a forgetful place' Then, fearing she had said too much, she added hurriedly : ' Do not come Avith me any further.
Once within this gate I am at home. Good-bye, Mr. Haslam.' Her hand Avas again in his. He held it an instant in a tight grasp, Avhich relaxed suddenly. Then he opened the gate for her ; she passed within the shadoAvs of the SAvaying pines, the gate swung back, and he was shut out in darkness. The hoAvl of the tempest had risen to a din like the noise of a confused host in battle ; the mingled roar of artillery and the flash of fire broke from the contending clouds. At times the heavens were ablaze, and then, in the blue glare, the ship Avas seen lying like a log on the heaving Avaters, tossed upwards on the Avhitened crest of a huge wave, and thence plunged doAvmvards CORDELIA. 31 into an abyss of darkness. It was an awful sight to Avatch her drifting on thus help lessly to destruction, and knoAV that no human power could intervene to save her, no arm could be stretched out to pluck her creAv from death.
The lightning ran hither and thither in thin blue streams ; at times it parted a cloud asunder, like a keen quivering sword ; or it flashed to and fro, like a crooked scimitar waved by an invisible hand. Thus lighted up, the wreck was made visible again and again, rushing onwards swiftly to the rocks, where the surf whitened, eddied, and broke in a roar which outvied the thunder. Suddenly the black sky opened, and there darted out a skeleton shape of fire, Avhich flung a threatening lance into the sea, then vanished within the darkness, while a crackling peal of thunder shook the shore. CORDELIA. It Avas the last effort of the storm ; when the next fainter quiver of lightning flashed out, strained eyes searched for the ship, and saw only the heaving darkness of the sea. The next instant a cry arose that she was on the rocks parted in twain ; and clinging to that half of the wreck which the Avaves had not swallowed were a few dark specks, which Avere human lives.
The sight gave every man upon the shore a new soul. Faith and love Avrought wonders that night. Death was braved a hundred times and conquered on its OAvn battle-field, the relentless sea. From out his icy clutch Avere plucked thirty lives — thirty drenched, shivering, exhausted men, who had passed through the valley of the shadoAv of death, and Avho had come out alive to giA'e God thanks. Among the brave band to AA-hom these OAved life Avas Mr. Haslam. No one had CORDELIA. 33 toiled more than he ; the first to enter the boiling surf, the last to be dragged ashore, he had seemed to court death, and to laugh at danger. Vainly Mr. Gwynne had striven to hold him back by the argument that he was not fit for this strange work, that the men of Boscombe were to the manner born, and had a greater right than he to give their lives away. ' There is no one has a greater right than I,' he answered ; ' for my life belongs to none but myself.' So, seeing words were vain, Mr. Gwynne held him back no more.
And the storm died down, and the moon rose and shone Avith silvery light upon the frothy sea. The wreck looked high and black and silent, as she layjambed between the rocks rising out of the lowered tide, while the weakened waves dashed over her with a low moaning, like sobs for the dead that lay in their bosom. From this black helpvol. I. CORDELIA. less ark of death there lay a little path of silver, like a road of life leading to the shore. And into this there floated suddenly, all besprinkled by the gleam, a great spar, to which there clung a slender figure, with white drenched face, mutely crying for help. Tavo men rushed into the surf, but a third was quicker than these, and seizing the figure with stout arms, he bore it swiftly to the shore. But eA'en as he touched the sands, bearing his burden safely, the spar followed him, was whirled swiftly round by the receding wave, and as it turned, struck him a cruel blow which laid him senseless in shallow water, Avhere the wave fell and rolled back, leaA-ing him as one dead.
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