The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Rocks of Valpre, by Ethel May Dell

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Title: The Rocks of Valpre

Author: Ethel May Dell

Release Date: September 27, 2004 [eBook #13547]

Language: English

***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ROCKS OF VALPRE***

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THE ROCKS OF VALPRÉ

by

ETHEL M. DELL

Author of "The Way of an Eagle," "The Knave of Diamonds," etc.

1913

I Dedicate This Book To MY MOTHER

AS A VERY SMALL TOKEN OF THAT LOVE WHICH NO WORDS CAN EXPRESS

  "Love is indestructible:
Its holy flame for ever burneth,
From Heaven it came, to Heaven returneth;
  Too oft on Earth a troubled guest,
  At times deceived, at times opprest,
  It here is tried and purified,
  Then hath in Heaven its perfect rest:
It soweth here with toil and care,
Bat the harvest-time of Love is there."

The Curse of Kehama—Robert Southey.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

PROLOGUE

I. THE KNIGHT OF THE MAGIC CAVE II. DESTINY III. A ROPE OF SAND IV. THE DIVINE MAGIC V. THE BIRTHDAY TREAT VI. THE SPELL VII. IN THE CAUSE OF A WOMAN VIII. THE ENGLISHMAN

PART I

I. THE PRECIPICE II. THE CONQUEST III. THE WARNING IV. DOUBTS V. DE PROFUNDIS VI. ENGAGED VII. THE SECOND WARNING VIII. THE COMPACT IX. A CONFESSION X. A SURPRISE VISIT XI. THE EXPLANATION XII. THE BIRTHDAY PARTY XIII. PALS XIV. A REVELATION XV. MISGIVINGS XVI. MARRIED

PART II

I. SUMMER WEATHER II. ONE OF THE FAMILY III. DISASTER IV. GOOD-BYE TO CHILDHOOD V. THE LOOKER-ON VI. A BARGAIN VII. THE ENEMY VIII. THE THIN END IX. THE ENEMY MOVES X. A WARNING VOICE XI. A BROKEN REED XII. A MAN OF HONOUR XIII. WOMANHOOD

PART III

I. WAR II. FIREWORKS III. THE TURN OF THE TIDE IV. "MINE OWN FAMILIAR FRIEND" V. A DESPERATE REMEDY VI. WHEN LOVE DEMANDS A SACRIFICE VII. THE WAY OF THE WYNDHAMS VIII. THE TRUTH

PART IV

I. THE REFUGEE II. A MIDNIGHT VISITOR III. A FRUITLESS ERRAND IV. THE DESIRE OF HIS HEART V. THE STRANGER VI. MAN TO MAN VII. THE MESSENGER VIII. ARREST IX. VALPRÉ AGAIN X. THE INDESTRUCTIBLE XI. THE END OF THE VOYAGE XII. THE PROCESSION UNDER THE WINDOWS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER I

THE KNIGHT OF THE MAGIC CAVE

When Cinders began to dig a hole no power on earth, except brute force, could ever stop him till he sank exhausted. Not even the sight of a crab could divert his thoughts from this entrancing occupation, much less his mistress's shrill whistle; and this was strange, for on all other occasions it was his custom to display the most exemplary obedience.

Of a cheerful disposition was Cinders, deeply interested in all things living, despising nothing however trivial, constantly seeking, and very often finding, treasures of supreme value in his own estimation. It was probably this passion for investigation that induced him to dig with such energy and perseverance, but he was not an interesting companion when the digging mood was upon him. It was, in fact, advisable to keep at a distance, for he created a miniature sand-storm in his immediate vicinity that spoiled the amusement of all except himself and successfully checked all intrusive sympathy.

"It really is too bad of him," said Chris, as she sat on a rock at twelve yards' distance and dried her feet in melancholy preoccupation. "It's the third day running, and I'm so tired of having nobody to talk to and nothing to do—not even a crab-hunt."

There was some pleasure to be extracted from crab-hunting under Cinders' ardent leadership, but alone it held no fascinations. It really was just a little selfish of Cinders.

She glanced towards him, and saw that the sand-storm had temporarily abated. He was working away the heap that had collected beneath him in preparation for more extensive operations.

"Cinders!" she called, in the forlorn hope of attracting his attention. "Cinders!" Then, with a sudden spurt of animation, "Cinders darling, just come and see what I've found!"

But Cinders was not so easily deceived. He stood a moment with his stubby little body tensely poised, then plunged afresh with feverish eagerness to his task.

The sand-storm recommenced, and Chris turned with a sigh to contemplate the blue horizon. A large steamer was travelling slowly across it. She watched it enviously.

"Lucky people!" she said. "Lucky, lucky people!"

The wind caught her red-brown hair and blew it out like a cloak behind her. It was still damp, for she had been bathing, and when the wind had passed it settled again in long, gleaming ripples upon her shoulders. She pushed it away from her face with an impatient hand.

"Cinders," she said, "if you don't come soon I shall go and find the
Knight of the Magic Cave all by myself."

But even this threat did not move the enthusiastic Cinders. All that could be seen of him was a pair of sturdy hind-legs firmly planted amid a whirl of sand. Quite plainly it was nothing to him what steps his young mistress might see fit to take to relieve her boredom.

"All right!" said Chris, springing to her feet with a flourish of her towel. "Then good-bye!"

She shook the hair back from her face, slipped her bare feet into sandals, slung the towel across her shoulders, and turned her face to the cliffs.

They frowned above the rock-strewn beach to a height of two hundred feet, tunnelled here and there by the sea, scored here and there by springs, rising mass upon mass, in some places almost perpendicular, in others overhanging.

They possessed an immense fascination for Chris Wyndham, these cliffs. There was a species of dreadful romance about them that attracted even while it awed her. She longed to explore them, and yet deep in the most private recesses of her soul she was half-afraid. So many terrible stories were told of this particular corner of the rocky coast. So many ships were wrecked, so many lives were lost, so many hopes were quenched forever between the cliffs and the sea.

But these facts did not prevent her weaving romances about those wonderful caves. For instance, there was the Magic Cave, for which she was bound now, the entrance to which was only accessible at low tide. There was something particularly imposing about this entrance, something palatial, that stirred the girl's quick fancy. She had never before quite reached it on account of the difficulty of the approach; but she had promised herself that she would do so sooner or