Victorian Short Stories: Stories of Successful Marriages
General
Victorian Short Stories: Stories of Successful Marriages
Marriage -- Fiction; Short stories
This brought her to the present, and she turned from the outline of St
Michael's Mount to look about for her husband's form. He was, as far
as she could discover, no longer in the sea. Then he was dressing. By
moving a few steps she could see where his clothes lay. But Charles
was not beside them.
Baptista looked back again at the water in bewilderment, as if her
senses were the victim of some sleight of hand. Not a speck or spot
resembling a man's head or face showed anywhere. By this time she was
alarmed, and her alarm intensified when she perceived a little beyond
the scene of her husband's bathing a small area of water, the quality
of whose surface differed from that of the surrounding expanse as the
coarse vegetation of some foul patch in a mead differs from the fine
green of the remainder. Elsewhere it looked flexuous, here it looked
vermiculated and lumpy, and her marine experiences suggested to her in
a moment that two currents met and caused a turmoil at this place.
She descended as hastily as her trembling limbs would allow. The way
down was terribly long, and before reaching the heap of clothes it
occurred to her that, after all, it would be best to run first for
help. Hastening along in a lateral direction she proceeded inland till
she met a man, and soon afterwards two others. To them she exclaimed,
'I think a gentleman who was bathing is in some danger. I cannot see
him as I could. Will you please run and help him, at once, if you will
be so kind?'
She did not think of turning to show them the exact spot, indicating
it vaguely by the direction of her hand, and still going on her way
with the idea of gaining more assistance. When she deemed, in her
faintness, that she had carried the alarm far enough, she faced about
and dragged herself back again. Before reaching the now dreaded spot
she met one of the men.
'We can see nothing at all, Miss,' he declared.
Having gained the beach, she found the tide in, and no sign of
Charley's clothes. The other men whom she had besought to come had
disappeared, it must have been in some other direction, for she had
not met them going away. They, finding nothing, had probably thought
her alarm a mere conjecture, and given up the quest.
Baptista sank down upon the stones near at hand. Where Charley had
undressed was now sea. There could not be the least doubt that he was
drowned, and his body sucked under by the current; while his clothes,
lying within high-water mark, had probably been carried away by the
rising tide.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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