As the heavy oars rattled in their rowlocks, and the swirling tide gurgled about the keels, Luke, seated in the stern, between Annie and Phyllis, felt once more a thrilling sense of his former emotion. With one hand round Phyllis’ waist, and the other caressing Annie’s gloveless fingers, he permitted his gaze to wander first up, then down, the flowing tide.
Par out to sea, he perceived a large war-ship, like a great drowsy sea-monster, lying motionless between sky and wave; and sweeping in, round the little pier’s point, came a light full-sailed skiff, with the water foaming across its bows.
With the same engaging trepidation in his country-bred comrades, they clambered up the landing-steps, the lower ones of which were covered with green sea-weed, and the upper ones worn smooth as marble by long use, and thence emerged upon the little narrow jetty, bordering upon the harbour’s edge.
Here were a row of the most enchanting eighteenth century lodging-houses, interspersed, at incredibly frequent spaces, by small antique inns, bearing quaint names drawn from British naval history.
Skirting the grassy slopes of the Nothe, with its old-fashioned fort, they rounded the small promontory and climbed down among the rocks and rock-pools which lay at its feet. It was pretty to observe the various flutterings and agitations, and to hear the shouts of laughter and delight with which the young girls followed Luke over these perilous and romantic obstacles, and finally paused at his side upon a great sun-scorched shell-covered rock, surrounded by foamy water.
The wind was cool in this exposed spot, and holding their hats in their hands the little party gave themselves up to the freedom and freshness of air and sea.
But the wandering interest of high-spirited youth is as restless as the waves. Very soon Phyllis and Polly had drifted away from the others, and were climbing along the base of the cliff above, filling their hands with sea-pinks and sea-lavender, which attracted them by their glaucous foliage.
Left to themselves, Luke removed his shoes and stockings, and dangled his feet over the rock’s edge, while Annie, prone upon her face, the sunshine caressing her white neck and luxuriant hair, stretched her long bare arms into the cool water.
Leaning across the prostrate form of his companion, and gazing down into the deep recesses of the tidal pool which separated the rock they reclined on from the one behind it, the stone-carver was able to make out the ineffably coloured tendrils and soft translucent shapes of several large sea-anemones, submerged beneath the greenish water. He pointed these out to his companion, who moving round a little, and tucking up her sleeves still higher, endeavoured to reach them with her hand. In this she was defeated, for the deceptive water was much deeper than either of them supposed.
“What are those darling little shells, down there at the bottom, Luke?” she whispered. Luke, with his arm round her neck, and his head close to hers, peered down into the shadowy depths.
“They’re some kind of cowries,” he said at last, “shells that in Africa, I believe, they use as money.”
“I wish they were money here,” murmured the girl, “I’d buy mother one of those silver brushes we saw in the shop.”
“Listen!” cried Luke, and taking a penny from his pocket he let it fall into the water. They both fancied they heard a little metallic sound when it struck the bottom.
Suddenly Annie gave a queer excited laugh, shook herself free from her companion’s arm, and scrambled up on her knees. Luke lay back on the rock and gazed in wonder at her flushed cheeks and flashing eyes.
“What’s the matter, child?” he enquired.
She fumbled at her bosom, and Luke noticed for the first time that she was wearing round her neck a little thin metal chain. At last with an impatient movement of her fingers she snapped the resisting cord and flung it into the tide. Then she held out to Luke a small golden object, which glittered in the palm of her hand. It was a weather-stained ring, twisted and bent out of all shape.
“It’s her ring!” she cried exultantly. “Crazy Bert got it out of that hole, with a bit of bent wire, and Phyllis squirmed it away from him by letting him give her a lift in the wagon. He squeezed her dreadful hard, she do say, and tickled her awful with straws and things, but before evening she had the ring away from him. You can bet I kissed her and thanked her, when I got it! Us two be real friends, as you might call it! Phyllis, cried, in the night, dreaming the idiot was pinching her, and she not able to slap ’im back. But I got the ring, and there ’t be, Luke, glittering-gold as ever, though ’tis sad bended and battered.”
Luke made a movement to take the object, but the girl closed her fingers tightly upon it and held it high above his head. With her arm thus raised and the glitter of sea and sun upon her form, she resembled some sweetly-carved figure-head on the bows of a ship. The wind fanned her hot cheeks and caressed, with cool touch, her splendid coils of hair. Luke was quite overcome by her beauty, and could only stare at her in dazed amazement, while she repeated, in clear ringing tones, the words of the old country game.
“My lady’s lost her golden ring;
Her golden ring, her golden ring;
My lady’s lost her golden ring;
I pitch upon you to find it!”
The song’s refrain died away over the waves, and was answered by the scream of an astonished cormorant, and by a mocking shout from a group of idle soldiers on the grassy terrace above the cliff.
“Shall us throw her ring out to sea?” cried Annie. “They say a ring lost so, means sorrow for her that owns it. Say ‘yes,’ and it’s gone, Luke!”
While the girl’s arm swung backwards and forwards above him, the stone-carver’s thoughts whirled even more rapidly through his brain. A drastic and bold idea, that had often before crossed the threshold of his consciousness, now assumed a most dominant shape. Why not ask Annie to marry him?
He was growing a little weary of his bachelor-life, The wayward track of his days had more than once, of late, seemed to have reached a sort of climax. Why not, at one reckless stroke, end this epoch of his history, and launch out upon another? His close association with James had hitherto stood in the way of any such step, but his brother had fallen recently into such fits of gloomy reticence, that he had found himself wondering more than once whether such a drastic troubling of the waters, as the introduction of a girl into their ménage, would not ease the situation a little. It was not for a moment to be supposed that he and James could separate. If Annie did marry him, she must do so on the understanding of his brother’s living with them.
Luke began to review in his mind the various cottages in Nevilton which might prove available for this adventure. It tickled his fancy a great deal, the thought of having a house and garden of his own, and he was shrewd enough to surmise that of all his feminine friends, Annie was by far the best fitted to perform the functions of the good-tempered companion of a philosophical sentimentalist. The gentle creature had troubled him so little by jealous fits in her rôle of sweetheart, that it did not present itself as probable that she would prove a shrewish wife. Glancing across the blue water to the great Rock-Island opposite them, Luke came rapidly to the conclusion that he would take the risk and make the eventful plunge. He knew enough of himself to have full confidence in his power of dealing with the delicate art of matrimony, and the very difficulties of the situation, implied in the number of his contemporary amours, only added a tang and piquancy to the enterprise.