Argosy All-Story Weekly, October 25, 1924 — page 128: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

118 ‘“ Be silent!”’ answered Clovelly, full of grief and malice. Then, with a ringing oath, as he saw his protracted efforts fail and the stirring vision of that tall ship sailing for the Spanish Main vanished from his eyes, he touched White Harry with the spurs and galloped away blindly through the wood, careless of what he should find. But how miserable a failure was this—to have baffled so many attempts of strong men, and then to be given the slip by a girl—by a mere child! The rain roared in a sudden torrent about him. He raised his naked face to the down- pour, heedless of what boughs might loom to knock him from his seat, only feeling in the sting of the rain a fierce pleasure. The rain stopped as quickly as it had begun. There was only the dripping of the water from the soaked leaves, and the rushing of White Harry and of Dunbar’s horse well in the rear. They came out into a road, splashing through a puddle that dashed him with muddy water to the knees. He drew rein again, and as he stopped, above the panting of the horse he heard, in the thin distance, the wailing cry of a woman: “ Michael! Michael! Oh, Michael!” It was a thunderbolt of amazement to Clovelly, for why should she be calling, and above all, in his name? Would the prisoner call for the jailer when once the sweet air of freedom had filled his nostrils? But an explanation came hastily to him: The horse, plunging through the wood, had brushed her from her seat. And now she lay bruised and sick, half buried in the wet mud, broken in spirit, and crying for help. He was off in the direction of that cry before the explanation had taken full form in his mind. He shouted. The answer came tingling back to him, far richer to his ear than the cry of “ Sail, ho!” on the Spanish Main. For she was that prize to redeem which Ipswich would pay the value of a tall ship and a tight ship, and a crew of hardy ruffians such as he yearned to lead. So he broke out into an opening and there—ah, double wonder!—she was sitting quietly on her horse, which was perfectly ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. under her command, and above her head a great branch projecting gave her shelter. It was not need which had made her cry out his name, and had she willed it she might have taken her way whithersoever she chose, and above all to the arms of that infamous old dandy in London, Marberry. For she had not flown. The bird had seen the cage opened and yet had fluttered back to imprisonment, of its own free will. Compunction came rarely upon Michael Clovelly, but it smote him now as he reined White Harry so sharply that the great stal- lion leaned back on his haunches and came to a stop throwing up a great spray of water and mud before him. There was some- thing, then, which Clovelly did not under- stand, but this was only the beginning, for a@ greater wonder lay in wait for him. She rode out to him from the shadow of the tree and so into the white down- pouring of moonshine as the wind scoured the clouds away from the heart of the sky for that instant. She came with that light in her face, and a smile of welcome. She came holding forth one hand to him, and as she drew near he heard her breathe: “Oh, for a moment, Michael, I thought the firing of those guns meant—but that was a horror, and here you are, come to me!”’ The heart of the pirate rose in him. The high ship, and the ranged cannon, and the dark-faced men, and the heaving deep-blue ocean were all blotted from his mind, for they were as nothing compared with her loveliness. But the heart of the pirate died again in his bosom. For she had been the light- of-love of another man, and all that beau- ty was tainted, and all the radiant charm of that smile was fool’s gold, and no better. So his face grew stern as he looked down on her, saying: “You were free, Cecily. You were free from your father and you were free from me. Why did you stay?” All the joy went out from her eyes. He thought at first that she would break into a storm of protestation, but although the words trembled in her throat they were not uttered. She only bowed her head and murmured brokenly: COmMICLOokKs (C@)