CHAPTER XII
A VISION OF THE CLIFFS
Rose Bonnifay had acted more from impulse than from real feeling whenshe consented to become engaged to Richard Peveril. As a popularOxford man and stroke of the 'varsity eight he was a hero to attractalmost any girl. His wealth was by no means to be despised, and itwould certainly be a fine thing to have him in devoted attendanceduring her proposed trip to Norway. She was greatly disappointed athis failure to rejoin them, and wondered what he could mean byannouncing the loss of his fortune when he was still the owner of agold-mine.
Miss Rose said "gold"-mine to herself, because, while Peveril had notspecified the character of his property, she imagined all Westernmines to be gold-bearing. Of course, too, their owners must bewealthy. So she hoped for the best; and, while realizing that she wasnot at all in love, determined to let her engagement hold good for thepresent.
Under the circumstances she felt that this decision was verycreditable to her loyalty, which, however, was sadly shaken by Owen'sfirst gossipy letter from New York. With its disquieting news stillfresh in her mind, she received a second that completely dispelledher illusions, and caused her to wonder how she could ever have beenso foolish as to engage herself to a man of whom she knew so little.
This second letter, which contained the cruel distortion of factspenned by Mr. Owen in Red Jacket, followed the Bonnifays to Norway,where it was received. Acting on the impulse acquired by reading it,Rose immediately sat down and wrote to Peveril the letter that reachedhim in due course of time, but which he lost without even havingbroken its seal.
He had joyfully recognized the handwriting of its address, but was atthe same time puzzled to know how Rose could have learned his presentabiding-place. Now he was filled with consternation at hiscarelessness. Of course, though, he must have dropped the letter whiletransferring the contents of his pockets, and he would surely find itagain upon his return to the Trefethen cottage.
At Laughing Fish Cove the log-wrecking party was landed, shortly afternoon, near a fishing settlement of half a dozen forlorn-appearing hutsthat stood in an irregular row on the beach. A few slatternly women,and twice their number of wild-eyed children, were the sole occupantsof the place, for its men were away on the lake tending their nets.
Again was Peveril disappointed to learn, from the appearance andconversation of these people, that they also were foreigners, speakinga language unintelligible to him, though evidently comprehended by twoof his men.
Captain Spillins explained that, uninviting as the place looked, itwas one of the very few harbors on that rugged coast in which the logsof which Peveril was in search could be rafted and held in safetyuntil called for. So the stores and supplies were landed, and, afterthe tug had steamed away, Peveril set his men at work building a campand collecting firewood, while he took the skiff for an exploration ofthe adjacent coast.
On the south side of Laughing Fish Cove he found logs bearing theletters "W. P." strewn for miles along the shore, and piled in everyconceivable position among the rocks, on which they had been hurled byfurious seas. As he studied the situation, our young wreck-masterforesaw an immense amount of labor in dislodging these and gettingthem once more afloat. Besides those on the rocks he discovered anumber on the beach of the cove that could easily be got into thewater. But all that he thus saw formed only about one-half of what hadbeen contained in the great raft.
The remainder must, then, be found somewhere to the northward ofLaughing Fish, and, accordingly, late in the afternoon he headed hisskiff in that direction. The coast that he now skirted was very wildbut grandly beautiful, with precipitous cliffs brilliant in the redsand greens of mineral stains, and surmounted by a dense growth ofsharp-pointed firs, among which were set groups of white birches. Atthe base of the cliffs, and amid the detached masses fallen from them,the crystal-blue waters plashed softly, and an occasional wood-duckin iridescent plumage swam hurriedly from his course with anxiousbackward glances. In the upper air, nesting gulls in spotless whitedarted to and fro, noting his movements with keen, red eyes.
He found some logs near the cove; but the farther he went from it thescarcer they became, until finally he passed a mile or more of coastwithout seeing one.
"Strange!" muttered the young man. "What can have become of them?There are hundreds still missing, and they should be somewhere in thisvicinity."
He was paddling almost without a sound, and skirting a ledge of blackrocks that jutted well out into the lake, as he spoke. At that samemoment something impelled him to glance upward and encounter a visionstartling in its unexpectedness.
On the very face of the cliff, some twenty feet above the water, andleaning slightly forward, stood a girlish figure gazing directly athim with great, wondering eyes. For an instant she seemed to read hisvery soul. Then a vivid flush sprang to her cheeks, and with a quickmovement she disappeared as though the solid rock had opened toreceive her.
Peveril rubbed his eyes and looked again. She certainly was not there,nor could he discover the slightest indication of an opening throughwhich she could have vanished. Yet, even as he looked, a pebbleleaped, apparently from the unbroken face of the cliff, and droppedwith a clatter to the ledge close beside him.
He paddled farther out into the lake, but still failed to discoverany aperture. He moved for short distances both up and down the coastwithout any better success. To be sure, a stunted cedar growing outfrom the rocky face near where the girl had disappeared showed theexistence of either a crevice or ledge, and she might have concealedherself behind it, though Peveril did not believe she had. Even if shewere thus hidden, how had she gained that perilous position?--howwould she escape from it?--who was she?--and where had she come from?
She was not one of the fisher-women from the cove; of that he wascertain. Neither was she an Indian girl, for the face, indeliblypictured in his memory, was fair and refined. It had not struck him asbeing beautiful, except for the glorious eyes that had looked so fullyinto his.
He called several times: "Are you in trouble? Can I help you?" Butonly mocking echoes, and the harsh screams of a flock of gullscircling about the very place where he had seen her, came to him inanswer. He sought for some means of scaling the cliff, but found none.Everywhere it was smooth and sheer. Never in his life had the youngman been so baffled and never so loath to own himself beaten; but hewas at length warned by the setting of the sun to give over his questand row vigorously back the way he had come.
Twilight was merging into darkness when he again entered Laughing FishCove, but a bright fire on the beach served at once as a beacon and apromise of good cheer.
A comfortable cabin of poles and bark had been built by the men duringhis absence. In it were all the stores, as well as a quantity ofspruce boughs and hemlock tips for bedding. The chill evening air wasfilled with a delicious fragrance of burning cedar, mingled with thepleasant odor of boiling coffee. Several white-fish nailed to oakplanks were browning before a bed of glowing coals, while slices of alake-trout were sizzling together with bits of bacon in thefrying-pan.
Supper was ready, as Joe, who superintended the culinary operations,announced with a shout the moment Peveril's skiff grated on the beach.Several of the fisher-huts were lighted, others had bright firesblazing outside their doors. The boats had returned, and there was apleasant bustle about the little settlement.
Peveril did not mention the perplexing vision he had seen thatafternoon, though it continually haunted him, and a decided zest wasgiven to his work of the coming week by the thought of this mystery.As he lay on his couch of fragrant boughs that evening planning how tosolve it, he almost forgot his unhappiness of the morning, and alittle later a new face had found its way into his dreams.