Lady Athlyne
Copyright© 2025 by Bram Stoker
Chapter 15: “Stop!”
Under the shading trees the time flew fast. It is ever thus in the sylvan glades where love abides:
“ ... The halcyon hours with double swiftness run
And in the splendour of Arcadian summers
The quicker climb the coursers of the sun.”
Athlyne and Joy sat in a gentle rapture of happiness. She had made him draw up his cushion close to her so that she could lean against him. They sat hand in hand for a while, and then one arm stole round her and drew her close to him. She came yieldingly, as though such a moment had been ordained since the beginning of the world. Her hand stole inside his arm and held him tight; and so they sat locked together, with their faces so close that their mouths now and again met in long, sweet kisses. More than once was asked by either the old question of lovers—which has no adequate or final answer: “Do you love me?” And at each such time the answer was given in the fashion which ruled in Eden—and ever since.
Presently Athlyne, drawing Joy closer than ever to him, said:
“Joy darling there is something I want to say to you!” He paused; she drew him closer to her, and held him tighter. She realised that his voice had changed a little; he was under some nervousness or anxiety. This woke the protective instinct which is a part of woman’s love.
“We love each other?”
“I do!” As she spoke she looked at him with her great gray eyes blazing. He kissed her:
“And I love you, my darling, more than I have words to say. More than words can express. I am lost in you. You are my world, my hope, my heaven! Beyond measure I love you, and honour you, and trust you; and now that I feel you love me too ... My dear! ... my dear! the whole world seems to swim around me and the heavens to open...”
“Dear, go on. It is music to me—all music—that I have so longed for!”
“Darling! It seems like sacrilege to say anything just now—but—but—You know I love you?”
“Yes!” The simple word was stronger than any embellishment; it was of the completeness, the majesty, of sincerity in its expression.
“Then there is no need to say more of that now ... But before I say something else which I long to hear—in words, dear, for its truth is already in my heart...”
“Darling!” she spoke the word lingeringly as though grudging that its saying must end...
“Before such time I must speak with your father!” He spoke the words with a gravity which brought a chill to her heart; her face blanched suddenly as does liquid in the final crystallization of frost. Her voice was faint—she was only a girl after all, despite her pride and bravery—as she asked:
“Oh, I hope it is nothing...”
“Nothing, darling” he said as he stroked tenderly the hand that lay in his—he had taken his arm from her waist to do it—”except the courtesy which is due to an old man ... and one other thing, small in itself—absolutely nothing in my own mind—which makes it necessary in respect to his ... his ... his convictions that I should speak to him before...” He stopped suddenly, remembering that if he went on he must betray the secret which as yet he wished to keep. Not on his own account did he wish to keep it. But there was Joy’s happiness to be considered. Until he knew how Colonel Ogilvie would take the knowledge of his having introduced himself under a false name he must not do or say anything which might ultimately make difference between her and her father.
Joy erred in her interpretation of his embarrassment, of his sudden stopping. Again the pallor grew over her face which had under her lover’s earlier words regained its normal colour. More faintly even than before she whispered:
“It is nothing I hope that would keep us...” He saw her distress and cut quickly into her question:
“No! No! No! Nothing that could ever come between you and me. It is only this, Joy darling. Your father belongs to another country from my own and an older generation than mine. His life has been different, and the ideas that govern him are very masterful in their convention. Were I to neglect this I might make trouble which would, without our wish or part, come between us. Believe me, dear, that in this I am wise.” Then seeing the trouble still in her eyes he went on: “I know well, Joy, that it is not necessary for me to justify myself in your eyes.” Here she strained him a little closer and held his arm and his hand harder “but my dearest, I am going to do it all the same. I want to say something, but which I mustn’t say yet, so that you must be tolerant with me if I say unneeded things which are still open to me. Truly, darling, there is absolutely nothing which could possibly come between you and me. I have done no wrong—in that way at all events. There should be no more difference between you and me for anything that is now in my mind than there is between your soul and the blue sky above us; between you and heaven...” She put her hand over his mouth:
“Oh hush, hush, dear ... By the way what am I to call you—darling?” For the moment he was taken aback. To give her his own name as yet would be to break the resolution of present secrecy; to give her a false name now would be sacrilege. His native Irish wit stood him in good stead:
“That is the name for to-day—darling. There can be none like that—for to-day. We began with it. It took me on its wings up to heaven. Let me stay there—for to-day. For to-day we are true husband and wife—are we not?”
“Yes dear!” she answered simply. He went on:
“To-morrow ... we can be grave to-morrow; and then I can give you another name to use—if you wish it!”
“I do!” she said with reverence. She accepted and returned the kiss which followed. This closed the incident, and for a little space they sat hand in hand, his arm again round her whilst again she had linked her arm in his. Presently he said:
“And now Joy dear, won’t you tell me all about yourself. You know that as yet you and I know very little about each other’s surroundings. I want specially to know to-day dear, for to-morrow I want to see your father and it will be better to go equipped.” Joy felt quite in a flutter. At last she was going to learn something about the man she loved. She would tell him everything, and he would ... Her thoughts were interrupted by her companion going on:
“And then to-morrow when we have talked I can tell you everything...”
“Everything!” then there was something to conceal! Her heart fell. But as the man continued, her train of thought was again interrupted:
“When you see him to-night you had better...”
Suddenly she jumped to her feet in a sort of fright. Seeing her face he too sprang up, giving, with the instinct of his campaigning a quick look around as though some danger threatened:
“What is it Joy? What is wrong?...” She almost gasped out:
“My father! He will be home by seven! It must be late in the afternoon now and we are more than a hundred miles from home!...” Athlyne in turn was staggered. In his happiness in being with Joy and talking of love he had quite overlooked the passing of time. Instinctively he looked at his watch. It was now close on four o’clock ... Joy was the first to speak:
“Oh do let us hurry! No one knows where I am; and if when Daddy gets home and finds I am not there he will be alarmed—and he may be upset. And Mother and Aunt Judy too! ... Oh do not lose a moment! If we do not get home before they arrive ... and Daddy finds I have been out all day with you ... Oh, hurry, hurry!”
Athlyne had been thinking hard whilst she spoke, and his thoughts had been arranging themselves. His intelligence was all awake now. He could see at a glance that Joy’s absence might make trouble for all. Colonel Ogilvie was a man of covenance, and his daughter’s going out with him in such a way was at least unconventional. She must get back in time! His conclusion was reached before she had finished speaking. His military habit of quick action asserted itself; already he was replacing the things in the carriage. Joy saw, and with feverish haste began to help him. When he saw her at work he ran to the engine and began to prepare for starting. When that was ready he held Joy’s coat for her and helped her into her seat. As he took the wheel he said as he began to back down the road which was hardly wide enough to turn in:
“Forgive me, dear. It was all my selfish pleasure. But we shall do all we can. Bar accident we may do it; we have over three hours!” He set his teeth as he saw the struggle before him. It would be a glorious run ... and there was no use forestalling trouble ... Joy saw the smile on his face, recognised the man’s strength, and was comforted.
They backed into the road and sprang southward. Without taking his eyes off his work, Athlyne said:
“Tell me dear as we go along all that I must bear in mind in speaking to your father of our marriage...”
There! It was out unconsciously. Joy thrilled, but he did not himself seem to notice his self-betrayal. He went on unconcernedly:
“It may be a little uphill at first if we do not get in line in time.” Joy looked under her lashes at the strong face now set as a stone to his work and kept silence as to the word. She was glad that she could blush unseen. After a little pause she said in a meek voice:
“Very well, dear. I shall tell you whenever we are on a straight bit of road, but I will be silent round the curves.” They were then flying along the old coach road. The road was well-made, broad and with good surface and they went at a terrific pace. Athlyne felt that the only chance of reaching Ambleside was by taking advantage of every opportunity for speed. Already he knew from the morning’s journey that there were great opportunities as long stretches of the road were level and in good order and were not unduly impeded with traffic. The motor was running splendidly, it seemed as if the run in the morning had put every part of it in good working order. He did not despair of getting to Ambleside in time. The train was not due at Windermere till seven. And it might be a little late. In any case it would take the arriving party a little while to get their things together and then drive to Ambleside. As they were sweeping down towards the bridge at Dalry he said to Joy without looking round:
“It will be all right. I have been thinking it over. We can do it!”
“Thank God!” she exclaimed fervently. She too had been thinking.
“Stop!”
The voice rang out imperiously; and a policeman, stepping from behind the trunk of a great beech, held up his hand. Instinctively Athlyne began to slow. He shouted back “All right!” He had grasped the situation and as they were out of earshot of the policeman said quickly to Joy:
“We are arrested! Oh, I am sorry darling. If they won’t let me pay a fine and go at once you must take the car on. I shall try to arrange that. But do be cautious dear—you are so precious to me. If you are delayed anywhere and can’t make it in time wire to your father tell him you are motoring and have been delayed. It will soften matters, even if he is angry. I shall go on by train in the morning. And darling if you are not getting on as you wish, take a train the best you can—a special. Don’t stop at any expense. But get on! And don’t tell your name to any one, under any circumstances. Don’t forget the telegram if delayed.” As he was speaking the car was slowing and the panting policeman was coming up behind. When the car stopped, Athlyne jumped out and walked towards the officer; he wanted to be as conciliatory as possible.
“I am very sorry, officer. That beautiful bit of road tempted me; and being all quite clear I took a skim down it?”
“Ye did! Man, but it was fine! But I hae to arrest ye all the same. Duty is duty!”
“Certainly. I suppose the station is across the bridge?”
“Aye sir.” The policeman, who at first sight had from his dress taken him for a chauffeur, had by now recognised him as a gentleman.
“Will you come in the car? It’s all right. I’ll go slow.”
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