"I have imagined twenty different ones in the last hour; but all are equally uncertain, impossible.I have ceased to struggle--I go where I am called, love's willing victim.If Heaven accept the sacrifice, it will provide the altar and the knife."Aymas was at his wits' end.Judging of his brother by himself, he had taken for granted that Frank had some well-concocted scheme for gaining admittance to the Rose; and as the wiles of love were altogether out of his province, he had followed in full faith such a sans-appel as he held Frank to be.But now he almost doubted of his brother's sanity, though Frank's manner was perfectly collected and his voice firm.Amyas, honest fellow, had no understanding of that intense devotion, which so many in those days (not content with looking on it as a lofty virtue, and yet one to be duly kept in its place by other duties) prided themselves on pampering into the most fantastic and self-willed excesses.
Beautiful folly! the death-song of which two great geniuses were composing at that very moment, each according to his light.For, while Spenser was embalming in immortal verse all that it contained of noble and Christian elements, Cervantes sat, perhaps, in his dungeon, writing with his left hand Don Quixote, saddest of books, in spite of all its wit; the story of a pure and noble soul, who mistakes this actual life for that ideal one which he fancies (and not so wrongly either) eternal in the heavens: and finding instead of a battlefield for heroes in God's cause, nothing but frivolity, heartlessness, and godlessness, becomes a laughing-stock,--and dies.One of the saddest books, I say again, which man can read.
Amyas hardly dare trust himself to speak, for fear of saying too much; but he could not help saying--"You are going to certain death, Frank."
"Did I not entreat," answered he, very quietly, "to go alone?"Amyas had half a mind to compel him to return: but he feared Frank's obstinacy; and feared, too, the shame of returning on board without having done anything; so they went up through the wicket-gate, along a smooth turf walk, into what seemed a pleasure-garden, formed by the hand of man, or rather of woman.For by the light, not only of the moon, but of the innumerable fireflies, which flitted to and fro across the sward like fiery imps sent to light the brothers on their way, they could see that the bushes on either side, and the trees above their heads, were decked with flowers of such strangeness and beauty, that, as Frank once said of Barbados, even the gardens of Wilton were a desert in comparison." All around were orange and lemon trees (probably the only addition which man had made to Nature's prodigality), the fruit of which, in that strange colored light of the fireflies, flashed in their eyes like balls of burnished gold and emerald; while great white tassels swinging from every tree in the breeze which swept down the glade, tossed in their faces a fragrant snow of blossoms, and glittering drops of perfumed dew.
"What a paradise!" said Amyas to Frank, "with the serpent in it, as of old.Look!"And as he spoke, there dropped slowly down from a bough, right before them, what seemed a living chain of gold, ruby, and sapphire.Both stopped, and another glance showed the small head and bright eyes of a snake, hissing and glaring full in their faces.
"See!" said Frank."And he comes, as of old, in the likeness of an angel of light.Do not strike it.There are worse devils to be fought with to-night than that poor beast." And stepping aside, they passed the snake safely, and arrived in front of the house.
It was, as I have said, a long low house, with balconies along the upper story, and the under part mostly open to the wind.The light was still burning in the window.
"Whither now?" said Amyas, in a tone of desperate resignation.
"Thither! Where else on earth?" and Frank pointed to the light, trembling from head to foot, and pushed on.
"For Heaven's sake! Look at the negroes on the barbecue!"It was indeed time to stop; for on the barbecue, or terrace of white plaster, which ran all round the front, lay sleeping full twenty black figures.
"What will you do now? You must step over them to gain an entrance.""Wait here, and I will go up gently towards the window.She may see me.She will see me as I step into the moonlight.At least Iknow an air by which she will recognize me, if I do but hum a stave.""Why, you do not even know that that light is hers!--Down, for your life!"And Amyas dragged him down into the bushes on his left hand; for one of the negroes, wakening suddenly with a cry, had sat up, and began crossing himself four or five times, in fear of "Duppy," and mumbling various charms, ayes, or what not.
The light above was extinguished instantly.
"Did you see her?" whispered Frank.
"No."
"I did--the shadow of the face, and the neck! Can I be mistaken?"And then, covering his face with his hands, he murmured to himself, "Misery! misery! So near and yet impossible?""Would it be the less impossible were you face to face? Let us go back.We cannot go up without detection, even if our going were of use.Come back, for God's sake, ere all is lost! If you have seen her, as you say, you know at least that she is alive, and safe in his house--""As his mistress? or as his wife? Do I know that yet, Amyas, and can I depart until I know?" There was a few minutes' silence, and then Amyas, making one last attempt to awaken Frank to the absurdity of the whole thing, and to laugh him, if possible, out of it, as argument had no effect--"My dear fellow, I am very hungry and sleepy; and this bush is very prickly; and my boots are full of ants--""So are mine.--Look!" and Frank caught Amyas's arm, and clenched it tight.
For round the farther corner of the house a dark cloaked figure stole gently, turning a look now and then upon the sleeping negroes, and came on right toward them.
"Did I not tell you she would come?" whispered Frank, in a triumphant tone.
