The Vision of Desire
"Man was not made to live alone," she had assured him. "We know that by
the Garden of Eden arrangements, it's not the least use going against
old-established custom, my dear man. So you'll come, won't you?" And
somehow with Lady Susan's kind, merry dark eyes twinkling up at him he had
not been able to find the ungraciousness to refuse.
But when the occasion came he had contributed very little to the gaiety of
nations. He left early, on the ground that he had an appointment to keep
in Ferribridge, and Ann felt as though he had joined the party more in the
capacity of a looker-on than anything else. She said as much to him a day
or two later when he chanced to meet her in the village, executing
household shopping errands, and they had walked home together.
"You are quite right," he answered. "That's what I am--a looker-on at life.
I've no wish to be anything else."
He no longer avoided her now, as he had been wont to do, and an odd sort of
friendship had sprung up between them. But it was often punctuated by some
such speech as the foregoing, and Ann felt that although he had sheathed
the sword he was still armoured with a coat of mail. It was difficult to
bring these almost brutal speeches, ground out of some long-harboured
bitterness, into relation with the sweetness of that sudden, rare smile of
his. The man was an enigma. He asked for friendship and then, when it was
tentatively proffered, withdrew himself abruptly as though he feared it.
Brett Forrester proceeded along diametrically opposite lines. No nuances or
subtle shades of feeling complicated life for him. He knew exactly what he
wanted and went straight for it, all out, and Ann was conscious that she
was fighting a losing battle in her effort to keep him at a distance. He
had never, so far, made deliberate love to her, but there was a certain
imperious possessiveness in his manner, a definite innuendo in his gay,
audacious speeches which she found it very hard to combat. He seemed
entirely oblivious of any lack of response on her part, and there was a
light-hearted, irresponsible charm and camaraderie about him that was
difficult to resist.
"What's the matter with you this morning?" he demanded one day when Ann had
successfully infused a little formality into her manner.
"Nothing. Why should there be?" she returned.
"No reason at all. Only you seemed to be emulating the stiffness of a
ramrod, and I thought you must be getting frightened of me--rigid with
fear, you know"--impudently.
What could any one do but laugh? It was useless to try and treat him with
aloof dignity if he promptly interpreted it as a sign of fear.
"I don't see anything in you to inspire terror," Ann submitted.
"You don't? Good. Then come along down to the Cove, and I'll teach you a
new stroke."
And then, as though to contradict every opinion she or any one else
might have formed of him, he was as painstaking and encouraging over the
swimming lesson which ensued as though his whole reputation depended on
her proficiency.
A day or two later, when Ann, accompanied by Tony and Robin, descended to
Berrier Cove for her morning dip, it was to find the beach, at that time
usually dotted about with bathers in vari-coloured bathing suits and
_peignoirs_, deserted by all save the hardiest and most determined.
The weather had changed with all the abruptness with which the English
climate seems able to accomplish such transitions. A strong gale of wind
was blowing, and the placid blue sea which, even at high tide, had been
lapping the shore very tranquilly throughout the last fortnight, was
converted into a rolling, grey-green stretch of water, breaking at its rim
into towering waves.
"It looks a bit too rough for you, Ann," observed Robin, surveying the
scene doubtfully, "I don't think even your new-found prowess at swimming
will be of much use to you to-day."
"It would be all right once you're through the breakers," suggested Tony.
"There's a chap swimming out there, I see."
He pointed to where a wet, dark head bobbed up and down like a cork beyond
reach of the waves that reared themselves up to an immense height before
they crashed down in a flurry of whirling foam on the beaten shore.
"Tough work, though," replied Robin. "There's the deuce of a current
running over there, and Ann's not an experienced enough swimmer to tackle
a drag like that."
Ann's face had fallen. The idea of foregoing her daily plunge did not
commend itself to her in the least.
"I don't see why I can't have a dip--just get wet, you know," she
remonstrated wistfully.
"You mustn't think of such a thing!" came in quick, imperative tones.
Startled, she turned round to find Forrester standing at her elbow, with
Cara Hilyard beside him. Amid the hurly-burly of noise created by the
breakers she had not noticed the sound of their approach.
"Do you hear?" he repeated. "You mustn't think of bathing to-day."
Ann's head went up. The imperious speech, uttered as though it were a
foregone conclusion that she would meekly obey its mandate, roused her to
instant opposition.
"But I _am_ thinking of it," she replied, masking her irritation beneath
an outward assumption of calm.
"I really don't think you should," said Cara persuasively.
"You're not bathing to-day, are you, Mrs. Hilyard?" put in Robin quickly,
a look of swift anxiety on his face.
She shook her head, smiling.
"No. I'm afraid I'm too big a coward."
"I should rather put it that you've got too much sense," returned Robin.
"It really isn't safe for any but a very strong swimmer to-day."
"Safe!" exclaimed Brett, angrily, snatching at the last word and flinging
it, as it were, in Ann's face. "Of course it isn't safe!"
"Then what's the meaning of that?" asked Ann pertinently, pointing to the
bathing suit he carried on his arm.
"Oh, I'm going in. It would take more than this bit of sea to drown
me"--carelessly.
He was making no idle boast. As Ann well know, he was almost as much at
home in the water as he was on land. And presently, when it had been
decided that only the three men should risk the roughness of the breakers,
she stood watching him with quiet, unstinted admiration as, timing his
plunge to a nicety, he met a large billow as it rose, dived sheer through
its green depths, and emerged into the comparatively smooth water on the
further side before its white, curving crest could thunder down on to the
shore.
Robin and Tony made but a brief stay in the water--the former curtailing
the proceedings because he very much preferred the idea of keeping Mrs.
Hilyard company where she sat in a fold of the rocks. Meanwhile Ann's gaze
was riveted enviously on Forrester's sleek red head as it appeared and
disappeared with the rise and fall of the swelling sea. He looked as if he
were thoroughly enjoying the buffeting he was getting.
"I should like to go in--just for a few minutes," she said discontentedly.
There are few things that draw the genuine sea-lover more strongly than the
longing to plunge into the tantalising, gleaming water and feel the rush
and prick of it and its buoyancy beneath one's limbs.
Cara looked up in dismay.
"You're not thinking of going, after all?" she exclaimed. "Oh, don't,
Ann!"--urgently. "It's really too risky to-day. If one of those big
breakers knocked you down you wouldn't have time to get up again before
another came. I once saw a woman drowned just in that way. It was horrible.
She was flung down by a huge breaker, and before she could pick herself up
a second wave broke over her. She had no chance to get her breath. And
there wasn't any one near enough to help her. I saw it all happen from the
cliff." She shuddered a little at the recollection.
"And if one of those waves _didn't_ knock me down," retorted Ann, "I should
have the most glorious dip imaginable. Honestly, Cara"--coaxingly--"I
wouldn't do more than just dash in and out again."
"Well, ask Robin what he thinks first," begged Cara.
Ann shook her head.
"I'd much rather ask him after!" she answered whimsically, "In fact, I'm
going to sneak into the water before he and Tony finish their respective
toilettes."
Without more ado she vanished into the tent which she usually shared with
Cara, and in a very short space of time reappeared equipped for the water,
the tassel of her jaunty little bathing-cap fluttering defiantly in the
wind. Slipping out of her _peignoir_, she let it fall to the ground and
emerged a slender, naiad-like figure in her green bathing-suit. She ran,
white-footed, to the edge of the water and danced into the creaming foam of
a receding wave, while Cara watched her with inward misgivings. Even from
where she sat she could see how strong was the undertow--each wave as it
retreated dragging back with it both sand and pebbles, and even quite
large stones, in a swirling seaward rush against the pull of which it was
difficult to maintain a footing. Ann, lithe and supple though she was,
staggered uncertainly in the effort to retain her balance, her feet sinking
deep into the shifting sand, as she turned to wave a reassuring hand to the
solitary watcher on the beach.
And then it happened--the thing which Cara had foreseen must almost
inevitably ensue. She had a momentary glimpse of the slim naiad figure
swaying against a background of sea and sky, then a terrific wave towered
up behind it, blotting out the horizon and seeming for an instant to stand
poised, smooth and perpendicular like a solid wall of green glass. She saw
Ann's face change swiftly as she realised her danger, the upward fling
of her arms as she tried to spring to the surface in an effort to escape
the full force of the wave and be carried in on its crest. But it was too
late. With a crash like gun-thunder the huge billow broke, and to Cara's
straining eyes it seemed that Ann's light form was snatched up as though
of no more moment than a floating straw and buried beneath a seething,
tumbling avalanche of waters.
She sprang to her feet and ran towards the water, shrieking for help as
she ran. But the noise of the sea drowned her cries so that neither Robin
nor Tony, still dressing in one of the tents, heard anything amiss. Even
as she called and shouted she realised the utter uselessness of it. No
weak woman's voice could carry against that thunderous roar. In the same
instant, she caught sight of Brett's head and shoulders in the distance,
and she waved and beckoned to him frenziedly. With a choking gasp of
relief, she caught his answering gesture before he turned and headed
straight for the shore, shearing through the water with a powerful
over-hand stroke that brought him momentarily nearer.
Though actually not more than a few seconds, it seemed to Cara an eternity
before the huge wave which had engulfed Ann spent itself. Then, as it
receded she discerned her figure struggling in the backwash, and as the
girl at last dragged herself to her knees Cara rushed waist-deep into the
foaming, eddying flood in a plucky effort to reach her. But, before she
could get near enough, the suction of the retreating wave had swept Ann out
of her reach and the next incoming breaker thundered over her again. Cara
herself barely escaped its savage onslaught, and as she staggered into
safety she turned a desperate, agonised face seaward. Brett was still some
yards away, and Ann would die--die with succour almost at hand! Her own
helplessness drove her nearly frantic. She was beating her hands together
and quite unconsciously repeating Brett's name over and over in a sick
agony of urgency.
"Brett! Brett! God, let him come in time!... Brett! Brett! Brett!..."
The retreating wave revealed once more the slight girl-figure, spent
and effortless this time, tossing impotently in the churning backwash.