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CHAPTER VI

LOVERS

She came haltingly, clinging with both hands to the rail of the veranda, her white face staring upwards in terror and instinctive appeal. She was like an insect dragging itself away from destruction, with drenched and battered wings.

He saw her coming and stiffened. It was his vision returned to him, but till she came within reach of him he was afraid to move. He stood upright against the wall, every mad instinct of his blood fiercely awake and clamouring.

The noise and wind increased. It swirled along the veranda. She seemed afraid to quit her hold of the balustrade lest she should be swept away. But still she drew nearer to the lighted window, and at last, with desperate resolution, she tore herself free and sprang for shelter.

In that instant the man also sprang. He caught her in arms that almost expected to clasp emptiness, arms that crushed in a savage ecstasy of possession at the actual contact with a creature of flesh and blood. In the same moment the lamp in the room behind him flared up and went out.

There arose a frightened crying from his breast. For a few moments she fought like a mad thing for freedom. He felt her teeth set in his arm, and laughed aloud. Then very suddenly her struggles ceased. He became aware of a change in her. She gave her whole weight into his arms, and lay palpitating against his heart.

By the awful glare of the lightning he found her face uplifted to his. She was laughing, too, but in her eyes was such a passion of love as he had never looked upon before. In that moment he knew that she was his–wholly, completely, irrevocably his. And, stooping, he kissed the upturned lips with the fierce exultation of the conqueror.

Her arms slipped round his neck. She abandoned herself wholly to him. She gave him worship for worship, passion for passion.

Later, he awoke to the fact that she was drenched from head to foot. He drew her into his room and shut the window against the driving blast. She clung to him still.

“Isn’t it dreadful?” she said, shuddering. “It’s just as if Something Big is trying to get between us.”

He closed the shutter also, and groped for matches. She accompanied him on his search, for she would not lose touch with him for a moment.

The lamp flared on her white, childish face, showing him wild joy and horror strangely mingled. Her great eyes laughed up at him.

“Billikins, darling! You aren’t very decent, are you? I’m not decent either, Billikins. I’d like to take off all my clothes and dance on my head.”

He laughed grimly. “You will certainly have to undress–the sooner the better.”

She spread out her hands. “But I’ve nothing to wear, Billikins, nothing but what I’ve got on. I didn’t know it was going to rain so. You’ll have to lend me a suit of pyjamas, dear, while I get my things dried. You see”–she halted a little–“I came away in rather a hurry. I–was bored.”

Merryon, oddly sobered by her utter dependence upon him, turned aside and foraged for brandy. She came close to him while he poured it out.

“It isn’t for me, is it? I couldn’t drink it, darling. I shouldn’t know what was happening for the next twenty-four hours if I did.”

“It doesn’t matter whether you do or not,” he said. “I shall be here to look after you.”

She laughed at that, a little quivering laugh of sheer content. Her cheek was against his shoulder. “Live for ever, O king!” she said, and softly kissed it.

Then she caught sight of something on the arm below. “Oh, darling, did I do that?” she cried, in distress.

He put the arm about her. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t feel it,” he said. “I’ve got you.”

She lifted her lips to his again. “Billikins, darling, I didn’t know it was you–at first, not till I heard you laugh. I’d rather die than hurt you. You know it, don’t you?”