FullReads

She slipped her hand into his. “It’s the lie of the quicksand that’s puzzling,” she said, “if you don’t know it well.”

“I am in thy hands, O Queen,” he made light reply. “Lead me whither thou wilt!”

She laughed–a low, sweet laugh of sheer happiness. “And if I lead you astray?”

“I would follow you down to the nethermost millstone,” he vowed.

Her hand tightened upon his. She paused a moment, looking out over the stretch of sand that intervened between them and the little fishing-quay. He had safely negotiated that stretch of sand by daylight, though even then it had needed an alert eye to detect that slight ooziness of surface that denoted the presence of the sea-swamp. But by night, even in that brilliant moonlight, it was barely perceptible. Columbine herself did not trust to appearances. She had learnt the way from Adam as a child learns a lesson by heart. He had taught her to know the danger-spot by the shape of the cliffs above it.

After a very brief pause to take her bearings, she moved forward with absolute assurance. Knight accompanied her with unquestioning confidence. His faith in his own luck was as profound as his faith in the girl at his side. And the tumult in his veins that night was such as to make him insensible of danger. The roar of the rising tide exhilarated him. He walked with the stride of a conqueror, free and unafraid, his face to the sea.

Unerringly she led him, but she did not speak again until they had made the passage and the treacherous morass of sand was left behind.

Then, with a deep breath, she stopped. “Now we are safe!”

“Weren’t we safe before?” he asked carelessly.

Her eyes sought his; she gave a little shiver. “Oh, are we ever safe?” she said. “Especially when we are happy? That quicksand makes one think.”

“Never spoil the present by thinking of the future!” said Knight sententiously.

She took him seriously. “I don’t. I want to keep the present just as it is–just as it is. I would like to stay with you here for ever and ever, but in another half-hour–in less–the tide will be racing over this very spot, and we shall be gone.” Her voice vibrated; she cast a glance behind. “One false step,” she said, “too sharp a turn, too wide a curve, and we’d have been in the quicksand! It’s like that all over. It’s life, and it’s full of danger, whichever way we turn.”

He looked at her curiously. “Why, what has come to you?” he said.

She caught her breath in a sound that was like a sob. “I don’t know,” she said. “It’s being so madly happy that has frightened me. It can’t last. It never does last.”

He smiled upon her philosophically. “Then let us make the most of it while it does!” he said. “Tonight will pass, but–don’t forget–there is tomorrow.”

She answered him feverishly. “The moon may not shine tomorrow.”

He laughed, drawing her to him. “I can do without the moon, queen of my heart.”

She went into his arms, but she was trembling. “I feel–somehow–as if someone were watching us,” she whispered.

“Exactly my own idea,” he said. “The moon is a bit too intrusive tonight. I shan’t weep if there are a few clouds tomorrow.”

She laughed a little dubiously. “We couldn’t cross the quicksand if the light were bad.”

“We could get down to the Point by the cliff-path,” he pointed out. “I went that way only this afternoon.”

“Ah! But it is very steep, and it passes Rufus’s cottage,” she murmured.

“What of it?” he said indifferently. “I’m sure he sleeps like a log.”

She turned from the subject. “Besides, you must have moonlight for your picture. And the moon won’t last.”

“My picture!” He pressed her suddenly closer. “Do you know what my picture is going to be?”

“Tell me!” she whispered.

“Shall I?” He turned gently her face up to his own. “Shall I? Dare I?”