"Why should death part us?" she answered, looking him bravely in the eyes. "I mean to live beyond death, and while I live and wherever I live death shall _not_ part us, if you'll be true to me."

"I'll not fail in that," he answered.

And so their souls melted into rapture and were lifted up beyond the world. The song of the nightingales was heavenly music in their ears, and the moon's silver rays upon the sea were the road by which their linked souls travelled to the throne of Him who had lit their lamp of love, and there made pet.i.tion that through all life's accidents and death's darkness it might burn eternally.

For the love of these two was deep and faithful, and already seemed to them as though it were a thing they had lost awhile and found once more; a very precious jewel that from the beginning had shone upon their b.r.e.a.s.t.s; a guiding-star to light them to that end which is the dawn of Endlessness.

Who will not smile at such thoughts as these?

The way of the man with the maid and the way of the maid with the man and the moon to light them and the birds to sing the epithalamium of their hearts and the great sea to murmur of eternity in their opened ears. Nature at her sweet work beneath the gentle night--who is there that will not say that it was nothing more?

Well, let their story answer.

CHAPTER IV

A YEAR LATER

Something over a year had gone by, and Barbara, returned from her foreign travels, sat in the drawing-room of Lady Thompson's house in Russell Square.

That year had made much difference in her, for the sweet country girl, now of full age, had blossomed into the beautiful young woman of the world. She had wintered in Rome and studied its antiquities and art. She had learned some French and Italian, for nothing was grudged to her in the way of masters, and worked at music, for which she had a natural taste. She had seen a good deal of society also, for Lady Thompson was at heart proud of her beautiful niece, and spared no expense to bring her into contact with such people as she considered she should know.

Thus it came about that the fine apartment they occupied in Rome had many visitors. Among these was a certain Secretary of Legation, the Hon.

Charles Erskine Russell, who, it was expected, would in the course of nature succeed to a peerage. He was a very agreeable as well as an accomplished and wealthy man, and--he fell in love with Barbara. With the cleverness of her s.e.x she managed to put him off and to avoid any actual proposal before they left for Switzerland in the early summer.

Thither, happily, he could not follow them, since his official duties prevented him from leaving the Emba.s.sy. Lady Thompson was much annoyed at what she considered his bad conduct, and said as much to Barbara.

Her niece listened, but did not discuss the matter, with the result that Lady Thompson's opinion of the Hon. Charles Russell was confirmed. Was it not clear that there had been no proposal, although it was equally clear that he ought to have proposed? Poor Barbara! Perhaps this was the only act of deception of which she was ever guilty.

So things went on until the previous day, the Monday after their arrival in London, when, most unhappily, Lady Thompson went out to lunch and met the Hon. Charles Russell, who was on leave in England.

Next morning, while Barbara was engaged in arranging some flowers in the drawing-room, who should be shown in but Mr. Russell. In her alarm she dropped a bowl and broke it, a sign that he evidently considered hopeful, setting it down to the emotion which his sudden presence caused. To emotion it was due, indeed, but not of a kind he would have wished. Recovering herself, Barbara shook his hand and then told the servant who was picking up the pieces of the bowl to inform her ladyship of the arrival of this morning caller.

The man bowed and departed, and as he went Barbara noticed an ominous twinkle in the pleasant blue eyes of the Hon. Charles Russell.

The rest of the interview may be summed up in a few words. Mr. Russell was eloquent, pa.s.sionate and convincing. He a.s.sured Barbara that she was the only woman he had ever loved with such force and conviction that in the end she almost believed him. But this belief, if it existed, did not in the least shake her absolutely definite determination to have nothing whatsoever to do with her would-be lover.

Not until she had told him so six times, however, did he consent to believe her, for indeed he had been led to expect a very different answer.

"I suppose you care for someone else," he said at last.

"Yes," said Barbara, whose back, metaphorically, was against the wall.

"Somebody much more--suitable."

"No," said Barbara, "he is poor and not distinguished and has all his way to make in the world."

"He might change his mind, or--die."

"If so, I should not change mine," said Barbara. "Very likely I shall not marry him, but I shall not marry anyone else."

"In heaven's name, why not?"

"Because it would be a sacrilege against heaven."

Then at last Mr. Russell understood.

"Allow me to offer you my good wishes and to a.s.sure you of my earnest and unalterable respect," he said in a somewhat broken voice, and taking her hand he touched it lightly with his lips, turned, and departed out of Barbara's sight and life.

Ten minutes later Lady Thompson arrived, and her coming was like to that of a thunderstorm. She shut the door, locked it, and sat down in an armchair in solemn, lurid silence. Then with one swift flash the storm broke.

"What is this I hear from Mr. Russell?"

"I am sure I don't know what you have heard from Mr. Russell," answered Barbara faintly.

"Perhaps, but you know very well what there was to hear, you wicked, ungrateful girl."

"Wicked!" murmured Barbara, "ungrateful!"

"Yes, it is wicked to lead a man on and then reject him as though he were--rubbish. And it is ungrateful to throw away the chances that a kind aunt and Providence put in your way. What have you against him?"

"Nothing at all, I think him very nice."

Lady Thompson's brow lightened; if she thought him "very nice" all might yet be well. Perhaps this refusal was nothing but nonsensical modesty.

Mr. Russell, being a gentleman, had not told her everything.

"Then I say you shall marry him."

"And I say, Aunt, that I will not and cannot."

"Why? Have you been secretly converted to the Church of Rome, and are you going into a nunnery? Or is there--another man?"

"Yes, Aunt."

"Where is he?" said Lady Thompson, looking about her as though she expected to find him hidden under the furniture. "And how did you manage to become entangled with him, you sly girl, under my very nose? And who is he? One of those bowing and sc.r.a.ping Italians, I suppose, who think you'll get my money. Tell me the truth at once."

"He is somebody you have never seen, Aunt. One of the Arnotts down at home."

"Oh, that Captain! Well, I believe they have a decent property, about 2,000 pounds a year, but all in land, which Sir Samuel never held by.

Of course, it is nothing like the Russell match, which would have made a peeress of you some day and given you a great position meanwhile. But I suppose we must be thankful for small mercies."

"It is not Captain Arnott, it is his younger brother Anthony."