CHAPTER X.
THE DAWN OF DAY.
Flora's words, and the meaning glance that accompanied them, melted theresolve I had made but a few ours before. There was no reason, indeed,why I should keep silence at such a time. I believed that we were bothin the jaws of death, with not the faintest chance of escape. To liftthe cloud that was between us--to snatch what bliss was possible out ofour last moments--would be a sweet and pardonable thing. So, while thespar bore us lightly amid the curling waves, I drew the girl moretightly to my breast with one arm, and pressed kisses on her lips andeyes, on the salty, dripping hair that clustered about her forehead.
"My darling, I love you!" I whispered passionately in her ear. "You mustlet me speak; I can hide it no longer. I lost my heart weeks ago, buthonor held me silent."
What more I said I do not recall, but I know that I poured forth all myburning, pent-up affection. When I had finished, Flora lifted hertear-dimmed eyes to my face and smiled; she put a trembling arm about myneck and kissed me.
"And I love you, Denzil," she said softly. "Oh, I am so glad that I cantell you; it seems to take away the sting of death. I would have hiddenthe truth from you; I would have kept my promise and married GriffithHawke. But now--now it is different. In death we belong to each other.You made me love you, Denzil--you were so kind, so good, so brave!"
"If we could only live, and be happy together!" I replied hoarsely.
"Hush! God knows best," she whispered. "In life we must have been apart.Kiss me again, Denzil, and hold me tight. The end will not be long!"
I kissed her passionately, and drew her as close to me as I could withone arm, while with the other I took a firmer grip on the spar. I had myheart's desire, but already it was turning to ashes. I could notreconcile myself to so cruel a fate. As I looked into Flora's eyes,shining with the light of love, I felt a bitter resentment, a dull,aching stupor of despair.
We were both silent for a few moments, and then of a sudden a risingwind scattered the gray fog. From the top of the swell we had a glimpseof the low, rugged shore, less than half a mile distant. Monstrous waveswere rolling toward it, and the angry bellowing of the surf was likecontinuous thunder.
"I am growing weaker," Flora whispered, "and I am so cold. Don't let meslip, Denzil."
I assured her that I would not, but I doubted if I could keep my word.I, too, was beginning to succumb to the effects of the long strugglewith the raging sea and the driving storm. I was almost exhausted, andchilled in every limb. I feared that before long we must both be washedfrom the spar.
But during the next minute it grew a little lighter, and I made adiscovery that caused me a strange agitation. Over on the shore, andslightly to our right, a promontory of rock and bushes jutted out somedistance. It was to leeward of the wind, which was blowing usperceptibly that way, while at the same time the waves swept uslandward. I knew that if we should drift under the promontory, wheredoubtless the surf was less violent, there would be some faint hope ofescape. I said nothing to Flora, however, for I thought it best to lether continue to believe the worst. She was much weaker now, and made noeffort to speak; but the look in her half-closed eyes was more eloquentthan words.
On and on we plunged, gaining speed every instant--now deep down betweenwalls of glassy water, now tossed high on the curling swell. Atintervals I sighted the shore--we were close upon it--and there was nolonger any doubt that we should strike to leeward of the promontory.Faster and faster! The spar spun round and round dizzily. I gripped itwith all my strength, supporting Flora's half-insensible form with theother arm.
For a minute we were held in a watery trough, and then a huge wave,overtaking us from behind, lifted us high on its curling, hissing crest.I had a brief, flashing vision of a murky strip of sand and busheswashed by milky foam. It looked to be straight below me, and on theinstant I let go of the spar. I strained Flora to my breast, and made afeeble attempt to swim. There was a roaring and singing in my ears, ablur of shadows before my eyes, and the next thing I remembered was atremendous crash that I thought had shattered every bone in my body.
The instinct of life was so strong that I must have scrambled at once tomy feet. I had been flung into a hillock of wet sand and grass, and withsuch force that the deep imprint of my body was visible. I looked aboutme, dizzy and stunned, and immediately saw Flora lying huddled in athick clump of bushes a few feet to the left. I knew not if she was deador alive, but as I staggered toward her I discovered a great foamingwave rolling up the beach. Rallying what strength I could, Iseized the girl and dragged her back as far and as quickly as I wasable. The wave broke with a crash, hurling its curled spray almost toour feet. I dropped my burden, and reeled over in a deathly faint. WhenI came to my senses--I could not have been unconscious more than a fewminutes--the chilly gray dawn had driven away the shadows of the night.A bleak and disheartening prospect met my eyes in every direction.Straight in front the sea rolled to the horizon, still tossing andtumbling. Behind me, and to right and left, stretched a flat, dreary,marshy coast, scarred with rocks, thickets and evergreens.
It was a familiar enough scene to me--I had often visited the shores ofHudson Bay--and I gave it but a glance. Flora lay close beside me, herhead and shoulders pillowed on a clump of weeds, and at the first Ithought she was dead. But when I had risen to my knees with some painand difficulty--I was as weak as a cat--I found that she was breathing.I set myself to restore her, and chafed her cold hands until the bloodbegan to circulate freely. Then I poured a few drops of brandy betweenher lips--I fortunately had some in a small flask--and it was no soonerswallowed than she opened her lovely eyes. I could see that she wasperfectly conscious, and that she knew me and remembered all; but when Ilifted her gently in my arms she made a weak effort to draw back, andlooked at me with a sort of horror.
"My darling, what is the matter?" I cried.
"Hush, Denzil, not that name," she replied faintly. "Oh, why were wespared? You must forget all that I told you, even as I shall forget yourwords. It was only a dream--a dream that is dead. We can be nothing toeach other."
I knew in my heart that she was right, but the sight of her beauty, thememory of her confession, put me in a rebellious mood. I drank what wasleft of the brandy, and rose dizzily to my feet.
"I will not give you up," I said in a dogged tone. "You love me, Flora,and you are mine. Providence saved us for a purpose--to make us happy."
She shook her head sadly.
"Denzil, why will you make is so hard for me?" she replied. "I must keepmy promise--you know that. Be brave, be honorable. Forget what hashappened!"
The appeal shamed me, and I averted my eyes from her. In my wretchednessI felt tempted to throw myself into the sea.
"Where are the rest?" she asked in a different voice.
"I fear they are all drowned," I answered gloomily. "Fate has been lesskind to us."
"Do you know where we are?" she continued.
"Not exactly," I said, looking about, "but we can't be a great distancefrom Fort York--and from Griffith Hawke."
I was sorry for the cutting words as soon as they were spoken, and Iwould have made a fitting apology. But just then I heard voices, and twovoyageurs, in the blue capotes of the Hudson Bay Company, came out ofthe timber about twenty yards off. They saw us at once and ran toward uswith eager shouts.