So he crossed the links to the
desolate sandy shore; there let the sound of the waves enter the
portals of his brain and fill all its hollow caves with their moaning;
and then wandering back to the old city, stood at length over the
keystone of the bridge, and looked down into the dark water below the
Gothic arch.
He heard a footstep behind him on the bridge. Looking round he saw
Beauchamp. Without reason or object, he walked up to him and barred his
way. Beauchamp started, and drew back.
"Beauchamp," said Alec, "you are my devil."
"Granted," said Beauchamp, coolly, but on his guard.
"What are you about with my cousin?"
"What is that to you?"
"She is my cousin."
"I don't care. She's not mine."
"If you play her false, as you have played me--by heavens!--"
"Oh! I'll be very kind to her. You needn't be afraid. I only wanted to
take down your damned impudence. You may go to her when you like."
Alec's answer was a blow, which Beauchamp was prepared for and avoided.
Alec pursued the attack with a burning desire to give him the
punishment he deserved. But he turned suddenly sick, and, although he
afterwards recalled a wrestle, knee to knee, the first thing he was
aware of was the cold waters of the river closing over him.
Pages:
610
611
612
613
614
615
616
617
618
619
620
621
622
623
624
625
626
627
628
629
630
631
632
633
634