The Yarn of Old Harbour TownRussell, William Clark
General
The Yarn of Old Harbour Town
Russell, William Clark
English fiction -- 20th century; Historical fiction; Sea stories
Her native blush, which was one of the delightful features of her
loveliness, had vanished: her face was colourless, and this uncommon
pallor which one would have thought could only have visited her cheek
in the day of dangerous sickness or in death, heightened the wonder,
the depth, the power of her dark eyes, whilst those lids of her's which
naturally drooped upon the loveliness they eclipsed in slumber, were
raised till the vision she might have been said to pour in soft light
upon her companion, looked unnatural and wild, the eyes of madness,
the incommunicable gaze of any one sooner than the half-veiled,
love-lighted sweetness of the orbs of Lucy Acton.
"I asked you when you first came in here to see me what you mean to do
with me," she exclaimed in a voice so strained and high, so entirely
lacking in its native music that her father, had she been unseen, would
not have recognised the tones as his child's.
"And I answered, I will marry you," he replied.
"That is no answer, sir," she cried. "You have basely and cruelly
stolen me from my home. I command you to return me to my father! Is
this your gratitude for his goodness to you and the affectionate regard
he has for Sir William Lawrence, who will be more shocked than even
Captain Acton by your unnatural, ignoble, treacherous conduct? Home
cannot be far, the ship has not sailed many miles. Return me at once,
sir! Ships must be in sight, any one of which will put me ashore. If
you detain me, if you carry me I know not where in the hope of my
marrying you, you will drive me mad, as I nearly am mad now," and when
she spoke these words, she delivered a wild, shrieking laugh, baring
her teeth by such strenuous elongation of her lips as left them ashen;
and the tragic quality of that ringing dreadful laugh was heightened by
the absence of the faintest stroke of merriment in her features.
"You are wrong, madam," he said, with an appearance of respect, and
even of sympathy colouring the tender voice he employed. "There is
no ship in sight. If there were she would probably prove an enemy's
cruiser which must end my dream of happiness by our consignment to a
French prison. You are in the hands of a man who loves you, who adores
you, who is indeed taking his chance of the gibbet to win you. Trust
in me. As my wife you shall be faithfully returned to your father, who
will not condemn an action which merely anticipates the sanction I was
looking forward to when he gave me command of this ship, and brought me
by this stroke of goodness closer to you."
"You will return me," she said. "You are not in earnest. This is a bold
and awful act of treachery attempted merely to test me. Marry you! Send
me back to my father at once whilst my home is at hand, or you will
discover that instead of having won a wife, you have driven a girl into
a madhouse."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account