350243The Green Ray — Chapter IXM. de HautevilleJules Verne

CHAPTER IX.
DAME BESS'S TALK.
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The drive back was made in silence; Miss Campbell spoke not a word, and her uncles dared not interrupt her reverie. And yet it was not their fault if the unlucky cloud had appeared just in time to obscure the sun's last ray. After all, there was no need to despair; the fine weather must last for another six weeks, and if during the autumn they were not able to get one fine evening with a cloudless horizon, fortune was indeed against them.

However, it had been a splendid evening lost, and the barometer did not seem able to promise such another—for some time at least. Indeed, during the night the capricious index of the aneroid fell slightly back towards change; but though it was still fine weather for other people, it did not satisfy Miss Campbell.

The following day, the 8th of August, the sun was veiled in light mists, and the midday breeze was not strong enough to dissipate them. Towards evening the sky was resplendent with brilliant hues; every shade of colour, from chrome-yellow to a sombre ultramarine, dyed the western horizon. Through the veil of fleecy cloud the sunset tinted the background of the coast with every phantom ray, save that which Miss Campbell desired so much to see.

And the two following days were the same, so that the carriage remained unused in the coach-house of the hotel, for what was the use ot going to make an observation, which the state of the weather rendered impossible? The heights of Seil could be no more favoured than the shores of Oban, and it was better not to incur another disappointment.

Without being more vexed than could be expected, Miss Campbell contented herself by going in the evening to her room, pouting at this unobliging sun; and as she rested after her long walks, she would indulge in day-dreams. Of what? Of that legend attached to the Green Ray? Must she indeed see it in order to look clearly into her own heart? Into her own? perhaps not; but into that of others!

One day, accompanied by Dame Bess, Helena had carried her discomfiture to Dunolly Castle. From this place, at the foot of an old wall overgrown with ivy, nothing could be more lovely than the panorama formed by the Bay of Oban, the rugged aspect of Kerera, the isles dotted here and there in the western sea, and the great island of Mull, upon whose rocky western coast the storms of the Atlantic first vent their fury.

And from here Miss Campbell would gaze upon the magnificent scene spread out before her eyes; but did she see it? Did not some memory persistently distract her attention? In any case it certainly was not the image of Aristobulus Ursiclos. In truth, the young pedant would hardly have been gratified could he have heard the opinions of himself which Dame Bess so frankly expressed that afternoon.

“I don't like him! No, I do not like him! He only thinks of himself! What sort of a figure would he cut at Helensburgh? He belongs to the clan of ‘Mac-Egotists,’ or I am very much mistaken. How could my masters have ever thought of making him their nephew! Partridge dislikes him as much as I do, and Partridge is no fool! Now, come, miss, do you like him?”

“Of whom are you speaking?” asked the young girl, who had heard nothing of Dame Bess's previous speech.

“Of one whom you could never think of—were it only for the honour of the clan!”

“And who, then, is it that I may not think of?”

“Why, to be sure, this Mr. Aristobulus, who had much better go and seek his fortune the other side of the Tweed, as if a Campbell ever need run after an Ursiclos!”

Dame Bess was not in the habit of mincing her words, but her feelings must have been highly wrought for her to oppose her masters' wishes, even for the sake of her young mistress. Besides, she felt sure that Helena was more than indifferent to this suitor. But she could hardly have guessed that this indifference was increased by a warmer feeling which her young mistress now experienced for another. Perhaps Dame Bess had a suspicion of the fact, when Miss Campbell asked her whether she had ever seen at Oban the young man whom the Glengary had so fortunately been able to rescue.

“No, miss,” replied Dame Bess, “he must have left immediately; but Partridge thought he saw him—”

“When was that?”

“Yesterday, on the road to Dalmally. He was returning with a knapsack upon his back, like a travelling artist. Ah! that young man was very imprudent! His having allowed himself to be drawn into the Gulf of Coryvrechan speaks ill for his future. He will not always find a boat ready to come to his assistance, and one fine day he will come to grief.”

“Do you think so, Bess? If he had been imprudent, he at least showed himself to be courageous, and in the midst of his peril his self-possession never appeared to leave him for a moment.”

“That's very likely, miss,” continued Dame Bess; “but surely the young man did not know that it was to you that he owed his rescue, or the day after our arrival at Oban he would at least have come and thanked you.”

“Thanked me?” repeated Miss Campbell. “And why? I only did for him what I would have done for any one else, and what any one else would surely have done in my place!”

“Would you recognize him again?” asked Dame Bess, looking at the young girl.

“Yes,” frankly replied Miss Campbell; “and I confess that his whole bearing, the calm courage which he exhibited when he stepped on deck, as though he had not just escaped death, and the affectionate words which he spoke to his old companion, made a great impression upon me.”

“Upon my word,” replied the worthy woman, “I could scarcely say what he is like; but at any rate, he is very different from this Mr. Ursiclos.”

Miss Campbell smiled, without saying anything; she rose from her seat and stood for a moment, casting a last look at the distant heights of Mull; then, followed by Dame Bess, she took the road back to Oban.

That evening the sun set in a kind of luminous haze, like spangled tulle, and its last ray was absorbed in the evening mists. On her return to the hotel, Miss Campbell did little justice to the dinner which her uncles had ordered for her, and after a short walk along the beach, she retired to her room.