Read Online Darkness and Dawn by George England - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: George England
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punctured the air.
He stopped, listening in alarm.
"Beatrice! Oh, Beatrice!" he hailed, his voice falling flat and
stifled in those ruinous passages.
Another shot.
"Answer!" panted Stern. "What's the matter
now?
"
Hastily he put down his burden, and, spurred by a great terror,
bounded up the broken stairs.
Into their little shelter, their home, he ran, calling her name.
No reply came!
Stern stopped short, his face a livid gray.
"Merciful Heaven!" stammered he.
The girl was gone!
Chapter XI - A Thousand Years!
*
Sickened with a numbing anguish of fear such as in all his life
he had never known, Stern stood there a moment, motionless and lost.
Then he turned. Out into the hall he ran, and his voice, re-echoing
wildly, rang through those long-deserted aisles.
All at once he heard a laugh behind him—a hail.
He wheeled about, trembling and spent. Out his arms went, in eager
greeting. For the girl, laughing and flushed, and very beautiful, was
coming down the stair at the end of the hall.
Never had the engineer beheld a sight so wonderful to him as this
woman, clad in the Bengal robe; this girl who smiled and ran to meet
him.
"What? Were you frightened?" she asked, growing suddenly serious, as
he stood there speechless and pale. "Why—what could happen to me
here?"
His only answer was to take her in his arms and whisper her name. But
she struggled to be free.
"Don't! you mustn't!" she exclaimed. "I didn't mean to alarm you.
Didn't even know you were here!"
"I heard the shots—I called—you didn't answer. Then—"
"You found me gone? I didn't hear you. It was nothing, after all.
Nothing—much!"
He led her back into the room.
"What happened? Tell me!"
"It was really too absurd!"
"What was it?"
"Only this," and she laughed again. "I was getting supper ready, as
you see," with a nod at their provision laid out upon the
clean-brushed floor. "When—"
"Yes?"
"Why, a blundering great hawk swooped in through the window there,
circled around, pounced on the last of our beef and tried to fly away
with it."
Stern heaved a sigh of relief. "So that was all?" asked he. "But the
shots? And your absence?"
"I struck at him. He showed fight. I blocked the window. He was
determined to get away with the food. I was determined he
shouldn't
.
So I snatched the revolver and opened fire."
"And then?"
"That confused him. He flapped out into the hall. I chased him. Away
up the stairs he circled. I shot again. Then I pursued. Went up two
stories. But he must have got away through some opening or other. Our
beef's all gone!" And Beatrice looked very sober.
"Never mind, I've got a lot more stuff down-stairs. But tell me, did
you wing him?"
"I'm afraid not," she admitted. "There's a feather or two on the
stairs, though."
"Good work!" cried he laughing, his fear all swallowed in the joy of
having found her again, safe and unhurt. "But please don't give me
another such panic, will you? It's all right this time, however.
"And now if you'll just wait here and not get fighting with any more
wild creatures, I'll go down and bring my latest finds. I like your
pluck," he added slowly, gazing earnestly at her.
"But I don't want you chasing things in this old shell of a building.
No telling what crevice you might fall into or what accident might
happen. Au revoir!"
Her smile as he left her was inscrutable, but her eyes, strangely
bright, followed him till he had vanished once more down the stairs.
*
Broad strokes, a line here, one there, with much left to the
imagining—such will serve best for the painting of a picture like
this—a picture wherein every ordinary bond of human life, the nexus
of man's society, is shattered. Where everything must strive to
reconstruct itself from the dust. Where the future, if any such there
may be, must rise from the ashes of a crumbling past.
Broad strokes, for detailed ones would fill too vast a canvas.
Impossible to describe a tenth of the activities of Beatrice and Stern
the next four
He stopped, listening in alarm.
"Beatrice! Oh, Beatrice!" he hailed, his voice falling flat and
stifled in those ruinous passages.
Another shot.
"Answer!" panted Stern. "What's the matter
now?
"
Hastily he put down his burden, and, spurred by a great terror,
bounded up the broken stairs.
Into their little shelter, their home, he ran, calling her name.
No reply came!
Stern stopped short, his face a livid gray.
"Merciful Heaven!" stammered he.
The girl was gone!
Chapter XI - A Thousand Years!
*
Sickened with a numbing anguish of fear such as in all his life
he had never known, Stern stood there a moment, motionless and lost.
Then he turned. Out into the hall he ran, and his voice, re-echoing
wildly, rang through those long-deserted aisles.
All at once he heard a laugh behind him—a hail.
He wheeled about, trembling and spent. Out his arms went, in eager
greeting. For the girl, laughing and flushed, and very beautiful, was
coming down the stair at the end of the hall.
Never had the engineer beheld a sight so wonderful to him as this
woman, clad in the Bengal robe; this girl who smiled and ran to meet
him.
"What? Were you frightened?" she asked, growing suddenly serious, as
he stood there speechless and pale. "Why—what could happen to me
here?"
His only answer was to take her in his arms and whisper her name. But
she struggled to be free.
"Don't! you mustn't!" she exclaimed. "I didn't mean to alarm you.
Didn't even know you were here!"
"I heard the shots—I called—you didn't answer. Then—"
"You found me gone? I didn't hear you. It was nothing, after all.
Nothing—much!"
He led her back into the room.
"What happened? Tell me!"
"It was really too absurd!"
"What was it?"
"Only this," and she laughed again. "I was getting supper ready, as
you see," with a nod at their provision laid out upon the
clean-brushed floor. "When—"
"Yes?"
"Why, a blundering great hawk swooped in through the window there,
circled around, pounced on the last of our beef and tried to fly away
with it."
Stern heaved a sigh of relief. "So that was all?" asked he. "But the
shots? And your absence?"
"I struck at him. He showed fight. I blocked the window. He was
determined to get away with the food. I was determined he
shouldn't
.
So I snatched the revolver and opened fire."
"And then?"
"That confused him. He flapped out into the hall. I chased him. Away
up the stairs he circled. I shot again. Then I pursued. Went up two
stories. But he must have got away through some opening or other. Our
beef's all gone!" And Beatrice looked very sober.
"Never mind, I've got a lot more stuff down-stairs. But tell me, did
you wing him?"
"I'm afraid not," she admitted. "There's a feather or two on the
stairs, though."
"Good work!" cried he laughing, his fear all swallowed in the joy of
having found her again, safe and unhurt. "But please don't give me
another such panic, will you? It's all right this time, however.
"And now if you'll just wait here and not get fighting with any more
wild creatures, I'll go down and bring my latest finds. I like your
pluck," he added slowly, gazing earnestly at her.
"But I don't want you chasing things in this old shell of a building.
No telling what crevice you might fall into or what accident might
happen. Au revoir!"
Her smile as he left her was inscrutable, but her eyes, strangely
bright, followed him till he had vanished once more down the stairs.
*
Broad strokes, a line here, one there, with much left to the
imagining—such will serve best for the painting of a picture like
this—a picture wherein every ordinary bond of human life, the nexus
of man's society, is shattered. Where everything must strive to
reconstruct itself from the dust. Where the future, if any such there
may be, must rise from the ashes of a crumbling past.
Broad strokes, for detailed ones would fill too vast a canvas.
Impossible to describe a tenth of the activities of Beatrice and Stern
the next four
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