Winefred: A Story of the Chalk CliffsBaring-Gould, S. (Sabine)
General
Winefred: A Story of the Chalk Cliffs
Baring-Gould, S. (Sabine)
English fiction
'Winefred,' said he leisurely, 'perhaps your father or mother may say
that I cannot have you, because I have inherited nothing from my
father, who was supposed to have laid by a good deal of money. Believe
me when I tell you this. Look up at those glittering stars overhead.
I assure you solemnly, before those eyes of heaven, that if my father
had accumulated a fortune, and had left it to me, I would not touch
one penny of it, no, not one penny, for I know how it was got, by ways
that I do not think straightforward, and perhaps even dishonest――by
smuggling. I do not know whether there is any right or wrong in the
matter――it was an underhand business, and that is enough. I will earn
my livelihood honestly and openly, with my hands and head, and on that
alone will I live, so help me God. If my father ever did lay by a
store――I do not say that he did――and if by some accident it has gone
astray so that I have not had the fingering of it――then, Winefred,
mark my words――to that person into whose hands it has fallen I freely,
cheerfully surrender it all. From this moment I give up all claim to
it. I look upon it as though I have not, and never had, any right to
it. I will bear no grudge against any such person as may have got hold
of it by accident, and have hesitated about surrendering it. Winnie,
if at any time you should chance to hear that it had been found and
retained, then tell whomsoever it concerns to throw it into the sea,
or give it to a hospital, or do what he likes with it. I will ask no
questions, and not trouble my head about it――here is my real treasure,
and I ask for none more.'
He would have clasped Winefred, but she forestalled him by catching his
hand, and kissing it, and as she did so, a tear fell upon it.
'You are good,' she said, 'nevertheless, it remains the same――it cannot
be.'
'But then――what is to become of us both?'
'I do not know.'
They walked side by side on the open down for a while. The stars
glinted overhead. Below, the flints that had been fractured reflected
the glint. The sea murmured unintelligible things below, and their
minds were as that sea, fretting, chafing, uttering unintelligible
murmurs.
At last Jack burst forth with:
'Is there no way out of this hobble?'
'There is none,' said she in a low voice.
'Bah!' exclaimed Jack. 'There is no tangle that cannot be unravelled
with patience. We are both young. We must not set our noses against a
wall and say that is the world's end.'
Thus they parted.
And thenceforth every evening he was at the gate, and every evening she
was there also.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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