The Diothas, or, A Far Look Ahead/Chapter 38
Of most of the events of the following forenoon I have but an indistinct recollection. In company with Olay, I made several calls in Falo, during which I might have made some interesting observations, had my mind not been so pre-occupied. Ialma and her party were at the home of her uncle, situated, as I was informed, on some part of what is now called Grand Island.
We were not to present ourselves there before the middle of the afternoon. Notwithstanding our various occupations, the hours seemed to me to pass with exasperating slowness. As for Olay, I was amazed at his calm. After a year's absence, within a short half-hour's journey of his bride, by not a word or look did he betray impatience at the barriers that custom placed in the way of their immediate meeting.
I well knew, however, that his was not the calm of indifference. During our brief intercourse in Salu, I had found occasion to speak of Ialma. In spite of his habitual self-control, Olay could not conceal the pleasure caused him by my frankly expressed, almost enthusiastic admiration of the warm-hearted girl, so beautiful, yet even more lovely in character than in person. An unworthy jealousy could not coexist with the perfect love and trust that existed between these two,—a love and trust the growth of years of intimate mental fellowship.
At last the hour came. On one of those electric boats I had first seen in use on the Hudson, Olav and I sped up the river towards Grand Isle. He seemed to know the exact spot to which to steer. There, on that smooth lawn extending to the water's edge, is a group, from among whom I can already distinguish one, to my eyes, specially graceful form. We land. Ialma and Reva alone came down to meet us. Reva seemed, what I had deemed impossible, to have grown even more beautiful than before. The scarcely more than two weeks of my absence had added a more womanly grace to her girlish beauty. Besides some other slight tokens that to the experienced eye proclaimed the zerua, she now wore her beautiful locks permanently braided in the style that once proved so distracting to my attention. She approached with shy confidence, to receive the salute I was now privileged to give, and said, as pleased she read the admiration in my eyes,—
"Do you think me improved? Ialma tells me so every day." Then, in response to my earnest affirmation that I had not thought it possible, but it was even so,—
"Ah! you do not know how it pleases me to be able to please you!"
All this passed as we followed the other pair toward the group awaiting us on the lawn. In thus affording me an opportunity of expressing the admiration I evidently felt, Reva was but conforming to an established and graceful custom. To remark, unasked, upon the personal appearance of any of the fair sex, was regarded as a breach of good manners. They were, however, privileged to ask such an opinion, on occasion; and their doing so was justly regarded as a mark of peculiar favor and confidence. Assured of their position, and confident in their beauty, they did not fear such misconstruction as their less-favored ancestresses of the present.
When the others entered the house, we did not follow,—were, in all probability, not expected to do so. Were not the minutes of this unforeseen break in our separation few and precious? We took several turns round the lawn, always intending to enter the house when next we approached it, yet always calling to mind some important nothing, the saying of which necessitated still another turn. We had in this way reached the foot of the lawn for the third time, and stood a moment to enjoy the cooling breeze from the river.
"It must be pleasant out in the stream," said Reva, regarding somewhat wistfully the boat in which I and Olav had come.
"If you are not sure that we may go," suggested I, why not inquire?"
Away hastened Reva without further discussion, while I remained to make ready the boat. A slight change in her attire, and the bright-hued afghans, of which I made haste to relieve her when she re-appeared at the door, rendered unnecessary any formal announcement of the result of her mission.
"Ulmene says we have ample time to go round the island. Her last injunctions are, not to take cold, and not to be late for dinner."
Seated beside me,—for the one seat in the boat resembled that of a curricle,—Reva mapped out for me the proceedings of the evening and morning. Shortly after dinner and the signing of the civil contract, Olav and I should return to Falo. In the forenoon of the following day would take place, in Falo, the religious ceremony that should give the final sanction to the union of the pair so long united in heart and feeling. Of this ceremony, so beautiful and impressive as described to me, I reluctantly refrain from giving any account, adhering to my set purpose of avoiding those topics in regard to which, the more earnest the interest, the wider the divergence of belief and observance.
Immediately after the ceremony the newly wedded pair would return to the villa on Grand Isle, which had been placed for a week unreservedly at their disposal. Herc they could enjoy undisturbed seclusion till they saw fit. to set out on their long wedding journey. The extent of their proposed itinerary almost took away my breath. It included every spot, in every quarter of the globe, visited by Olav during his zerdarship. But, as I reflected, much ground could be passed over in three months, with the means of travel at their disposal.
If either indulged in any day-dream of that future happy journey awaiting us also, nothing was said on the subject. The present was too happy for our thoughts to wander far ahead. Enveloped in the blissful consciousness of each other's presence and sympathy, surrounded by beauty, we glide swiftly and noiselessly amid scenes that seem taken from the landscapes of a glorified Claude Lorraine. The rays of the westering August sun were already entangled amid the tops of the lofty trees, whose lengthened shadows they cast, now upon the swift current, now on the smooth lawns that extended before the ancient mansions thickly scattered along the banks of the stream. Beautified by the labors of the many generations whose homes these mansions had been, Grand Isle presented a scene of fairy-like beauty, far unlike the unkempt ruggedness that at present there meets the traveller's eye.
We had turned the southern extremity of the isle. We had for some time been sitting in blissful silence,—the silence of utter content.
"Ismar," said Reva at last, "I am almost afraid of this happiness. It seems too great for this earth. How could we be more happy? where could we see scenes more beautiful than these?"
I, too, had to acknowledge a similar feeling, one of awed wonder as it were, at the completeness of our happiness. So rare are the gleams of perfect sunshine on the pathway of life, that we are almost afraid to enjoy the unwonted splendor; as in certain climes a sunrise of unsullied brightness is regarded as the sure precursor of a stormy day.
This passing mood may have been partly influenced by the increasing volume of sound that betokened our approach toward the grandest spectacle on our continent. A change of wind, indeed, was now causing the muffled thunder of the falls to reach our ears in one continuous though distant roar, fit herald of our passage from the beautiful to the sublime.
As we approached the northern extremity of the island, the current became ever swifter. It was, accordingly, with some relief, that, following the directions conspicuously displayed at certain places, I found myself in comparatively still water near the apex of the island. Here a broad stairway of marble led up to a spacious colonnade situated in the northern extremity of a public garden. This spot was, especially toward sunset, a favorite resort whence to view the splendid effects of light upon the towering masses of vapor that marked the spot where the mighty river plunged into the abyss. In the course of restless ages, the waters had hollowed out their bed, till, at the time now referred to, the plunge was taken at the spot where the river takes a sudden bend from west to north. This circumstance afforded a facility now unknown for viewing the falls, or fall, since there was no longer a break in their continuity. From the western bank the spectator could see the whole mass of waters precipitate itself in one mighty concave into the yawning gulf before his feet.
After learning the bearings and distances, I was somewhat doubtful of our ability to reach this spot in the time at our disposal, even for a fugitive glance. The look of disappointment in Reva's eyes, when I expressed this opinion, put all hesitation to flight; and soon we were steering for the western shore.
"I had set my heart greatly on standing here in your company," said Reva, as we stood together before the wondrous spectacle, to her altogether new, to me, some way, strangely familiar. "This will be a moment to think of during the long interval before we can have such another day."
We could remain but a few minutes. During these, however, Reva found opportunity to telephone home our whereabouts in case we should be late. On the course I was now obliged to adopt, so as to save time, the rapidly descending sun shone full in our faces. It was probably for that reason that I did not observe what, observed sooner, might yet have afforded us a chance. It was Reva first observed it. She had been turning, at intervals, to view the splendid spectacle behind us; while I was obliged to keep my eyes ahead.
"Ismar," she almost whispered, "is the current too much for us? We seem to be making scarcely any headway."
At this time we were perhaps a mile north of Grand Isle. Even when I saw for myself that Reva's observation was correct, I was not so much startled as surprised. The current must be indeed strong to nearly neutralize the speed of a boat able to make fifteen miles an hour in still water. Turning out of this current would cause some slight delay, that was all.
I accordingly slightly altered our course, and was now for the first time really alarmed. The boat seemed to have hardly steerage-way. Hastily I examined the gauge that served to indicate the amount of available electric force in the reservoir. With difficulty I repressed a groan. The gauge indicated almost zero. The stored-up energy had been dissipated during the long courses made by the boat that day, mostly at a high rate of speed. One more experienced in the use of such machines would have thought of this, and seen to the reservoir being recharged. What was I but an ignorant savage, was my bitter reflection, unfit to be trusted with the appliances of a superior civilization?
Reva, too, had read the terrible indication, and apprehended its full significance. The noble girl grew pale, but quailed not. Neither spoke. It was no time for words. There seemed but one chance left,—to turn the boat, and trust that our small remnant of motive-power would enable us to keep a course oblique to the current, so as to reach the shore somewhere above the falls.
I headed for the eastern shore, as the nearer, and also because I had noticed that the current on the eastern side of Grand Isle was much less rapid than that on the western side. For a time it seemed as if this plan would succeed. We reached within little more than a quarter of a mile of the shore. But at the same moment our remnant of motive-power became exhausted; and, seized by a powerful eddy, we were swept out to near the middle of the river, this time more than a mile farther down. We were now utterly helpless. Even the power of steering had ceased with the exhaustion of the motive-power.
I looked around to see whence aid could come, and waved a scarf at the end of a rod. Its being so near the dinner-hour, made it a bad hour of the day for us. Had our plight been perceived in time, efficient aid might possibly have reached us. As it was, I saw more than one boat dart forth, in eager answer to my signals of distress. One boat especially, boldly and skilfully steered. was headed so as to cut our course. Beside the steerer sat a female form, with garments fluttering in the wind caused by their rapid motion. We watched them, helpless to further their efforts even by changing the course of our boat. I did what I could by trailing one of the afghans over the stern.
"I am afraid it is all of no use," said Reva calmly, after attentively watching them for some time.
"They cannot reach us before we pass those rocks."
"And then?" said I.
"Then, Ismar, we are beyond human aid."
We sat for some time after this in silence, I holding her unresisting hand in mine. We passed the fatal rocks, beyond which the waters seemed to slope with a frightful declivity toward the abyss beyond. As we did so, the boat that had come so daringly to our rescue, now scarcely a quarter of a mile off, turned rapidly in its course, and none too soon. The steersman's companion, a young and beautiful girl, after returning Reva's mute gesture of thanks and farewell, buried her face in her hands, and seemed to weep.
Nor was she our only sympathizer. All around we could see people gathering to the shores,—such news spreads, even now, with wonderful rapidity. Some stood in silent horror; some covered their faces with their bands; a few, with upraised hands, seemed to implore the mercy of Heaven. All this, and much more, I took in at a glance,—the blue and almost cloudless sky; the green woods gently waving in the same wind that rippled the surface of the water under the rays of the setting sun, even the rainbow-tinted vapor that overhung the abyss, and was now viewed by us from where none had returned to tell the tale.
"This, then, is death," said I, after we had passed the rocks. Oh, with what regretful yearning did I gaze at the young and beautiful life beside me! how bitterly did I feel my impotence to save!
"Yes," said Reva, seeming to read my thought. "But you have done all you can." Here she took my hand in hers, and caressed it with a gesture that almost unmanned me, so forcibly did it remind me of that father whose grief I dared not think of. "One heedless request of mine has brought us both to this. Are you willing to grant me one more?"
"Can you doubt it?" was my almost reproachful response. "But what now lies in my power to grant?"
"You can give me the privilege to call you husband before I die."
I understood at once. In presence of a great danger to one or both, a betrothed pair might, in this way, anticipate the usual date for their union. All that was necessary was, to make the customary change of rings, in the presence of witnesses. Reva rose, and, turning toward the nearer shore, made gestures as if changing her ring. Those on shore showed their comprehension by raising their right hands in solemn attestation.
Pronouncing the customary formula, I changed the ring from the finger where I had so lately placed it, to that where its presence proclaimed her a wedded wife. She performed a like office for me. At this moment the sun went down, and ceased to illumine with a mocking splendor the mists that rose from the awful gulf, which we were now nearing with a frightful velocity.
"Kiss me, my dear husband," she said, received from my lips the sacred title of wife, gave me one more look of unutterable love, then closed her eyes, and nestled closely to my side, within my encircling arm. A very slight trembling of her slender frame, a somewhat tightened clasp of my hand, alone gave token of her consciousness of our swiftly approaching doom. I kept my eyes fixed upon her face. I really dared no longer look before, lest I might see the horrible abyss just beneath us. I saw her lips move. The awful thunders that seemed to rush to meet us obliged me to place my ear close to her lips.
"God is good," were the words I faintly distinguished.
"We shall m"
At this moment the boat seemed to give a wild leap into the air: then followed a horrible sensation of falling from a great height, amid a deafening roar, as of a universe crashing into ruin; then oblivion.