While I was thus reflecting, a second lantern drew near me from the
beach. It was carried by a yachtsman whom I had not yet seen, and who
was conducting two other persons to the pavilion. These two persons
were unquestionably the guests for whom the house was made ready; and,
straining eye and ear, I set myself to watch them as they passed. One
was an unusually tall man, in a travelling hat slouched over his eyes,
and a highland cape closely buttoned and turned up so as to conceal his
face. You could make out no more of him than that he was, as I have
said, unusually tall, and walked feebly with a heavy stoop. By his
side, and either clinging to him or giving him support—I could not make
out which—was a young, tall, and slender figure of a woman. She was
extremely pale; but in the light of the lantern her face was so marred
by strong and changing shadows, that she might equally well have been
as ugly as sin or as beautiful as I afterwards found her to be.
When they were just abreast of me, the girl made some remark which was
drowned by the noise of the wind.
“Hush!” said her companion; and there was something in the tone with
which the word was uttered that thrilled and rather shook my spirits.
It seemed to breathe from a bosom labouring under the deadliest terror;
I have never heard another syllable so expressive; and I still hear it
again when I am feverish at night, and my mind runs upon old times. The
man turned towards the girl as he spoke; I had a glimpse of much red
beard and a nose which seemed to have been broken in youth; and his
light eyes seemed shining in his face with some strong and unpleasant
emotion.
But these two passed on and were admitted in their turn to the
pavilion.
One by one, or in groups, the seamen returned to the beach. The wind
brought me the sound of a rough voice crying, “Shove off!” Then, after
a pause, another lantern drew near. It was Northmour alone.
My wife and I, a man and a woman, have often agreed to wonder how a
person could be, at the same time, so handsome and so repulsive as
Northmour. He had the appearance of a finished gentleman; his face bore
every mark of intelligence and courage; but you had only to look at
him, even in his most amiable moment, to see that he had the temper of
a slaver captain. I never knew a character that was both explosive and
revengeful to the same degree; he combined the vivacity of the south
with the sustained and deadly hatreds of the north; and both traits
were plainly written on his face, which was a sort of danger signal. In
person he was tall, strong, and active; his hair and complexion very
dark; his features handsomely designed, but spoiled by a menacing
expression.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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