The Maid of SkerBlackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
General
The Maid of Sker
Blackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
Foundlings -- Fiction; Romance fiction; Wales -- Fiction
The rest of his speech was broken into, much to my dissatisfaction, by a
soft caressing comfort, such as women's pity yields without any
consideration. Only they made all sorts of foolish promises, and eternal
pledges, touched up with confidence, and hope, and mutual praise, and
faith, and doubt, and the other ins and outs of love.
"I won't cry any more," she said, with several sobs between it; "I ought
not to be so with you, who are so strong, and good, and kind. Your
honour is cruelly wronged at home: you never shall say that your own,
own love wished you to peril it also abroad."
He took her quietly into his arms; and they seemed to strengthen one
another. And to my eyes came old tears, or at any rate such as had come
long ago. These two people stood a great time, silent, full of one
another, keeping close with reverent longing, gazing yet not looking at
the moonlight and the water. Then the delicate young maiden (for such
her voice and outline showed her, though I could not judge her face)
shivered in the curling fog which the climbing moon had brought.
Hereupon the captain felt that her lungs must be attended to, as well as
her lips, and her waist, and heart; and he said in a soft way, like a
shawl--
"Come away, my lovely darling, from the cold, and fog, and mist. Your
little cloak is damp all through; and time it is for me to go.
Discipline I will have always; and I must have the same with you, until
you take command of me."
"Many, many a weary year, ere I have the chance of it, Captain Drake."
The young thing sighed as she spoke, though perhaps without any sense of
prophecy.
"Isabel, let us not talk like that, even if we think it. The luck must
turn some day, my darling; even I cannot be always on the evil side of
it. How often has my father said so! And what stronger proof can I have
than you? As long as you are true to me----"
They were turning away, when this bright idea, which seems to occur to
lovers always, under some great law of nature, to prolong their
interviews;--this compelled them to repeat pretty much the same forms,
and ceremonies, assurances, pledges, and suchlike, which had passed
between them scarcely more than three or four minutes ago, at the
utmost. And again I looked away, because I would have had others do so
to me; and there was nothing new to learn by it.
"Only one thing more, my own," said the lady, taking his arm again; "one
more thing you must promise me. If you care for me at all, keep out of
the way of that dreadful man."
"Why, how can I meet him at sea, my Bell? Even if he dislikes me, as you
tell me perpetually, though I never gave him cause, that I know of."
"He does not dislike you, Drake Bampfylde; he hates you with all the
venomous, cold, black hatred, such as I fear to think of--oh my dear, oh
my dear!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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