L M Montgomery Short Story: A Strayed Allegiance | Part Two

Canadian author Lucy Maud Montgomery was born in Prince Edward Island on November 30, 1874. She achieved international fame in her lifetime, putting Prince Edward Island and Canada on the world literary stage. Best known for her "Anne of Green Gables" books, she was also a prolific writer of short stories and poetry.

This collection features those stories.

This episode features Part Two of 'A Strayed Allegiance'.

Transcript

Welcome to Sleep Stories with Steph.

It is time to relax and fully let go.

There is nothing you need to be doing now and nowhere you need to go.

Close your eyes and feel yourself sink into the support beneath you.

And let all the worries of the day drift away.

This is your time and your space.

Take a deep breath in through your nose and let it out with a long sigh.

There is nothing you need to be doing now and nowhere you need to go.

A Strayed Allegiance Part Two Esther Brooke Elliott meant,

Or honestly thought he meant,

To go home when he left Marion.

Nevertheless,

When he reached the road branching off to the cove,

He turned his horse down it with a flush on his dark cheek.

He realised the motive of this action was disloyal to Marion and he felt ashamed of his weakness.

But the desire to see Magdalene Crawford once more and look into the depths of her eyes was stronger than all else and overpowered every throb of duty and resistance.

He saw nothing of her when he reached the cove.

He could think of no excuse for calling it the Barrett Cottage so he rode slowly past the hamlet and along the shore.

The sun,

Red as a smouldering ember,

Was half buried in the silken violet rim of the sea.

The west was a vast lake of saffron and the rose and ethereal greens through which floated the curved shallop of a thin new moon,

Slowly deepening from lustrousness white through gleaming silver into burnished gold and attending by one solitary pearl white star.

The vast concave of sky above was a violet,

Infinite and flawless.

Far out,

Dusky amethystine islets clustered like gems on the shining breast of the bay.

The little pools of water along the low shores glowed like mirrors of polished jacinth.

The small pine-fringed headlands ran out into the water,

Cutting its lustrous blue expanse like purple wedges.

As Esterbrooke turned one of them,

He saw Magdalene standing out on the point of the next,

A short distance away.

Her back was towards him and her splendid figure was outlined darkly against the vivid sky.

Esterbrooke sprang from his horse and left the animal standing by itself while he walked swiftly out to her.

His heart throbbed suffocatingly.

He was conscious of no direct purpose save merely to see her.

She turned when he reached her with a slight start of surprise.

His footsteps had made no sound on the tide-rippled sand.

For a few moments they faced each other so,

Eyes burning into eyes with mute soul-probing and questioning.

The sun had disappeared,

Leaving a stain of fiery red to mark his grave.

The weird radiant light was startlingly vivid and clear.

Little crisp puffs and flakes of foam scurried over the point like elfin things.

The fresh wind blowing up the bay tossed the lustrous rings of hair about Magdalene's pale face.

All the routed shadows of the hour had found refuge in her eyes.

Not a trace of colour appeared in her face under Esterbrooke Elliot's burning gaze.

But when he said Magdalene,

A single hot scorch of crimson flamed into her cheeks protestingly.

She lifted her hand with a splendid gesture but no words passed her lips.

Magdalene,

Have you nothing to say to me?

He asked,

Coming closer to her with an imploring passion in his face,

Never seen by Marion Leslie's eyes.

He reached out his hand but she stepped back.

What should I have to say to you?

Say that you're glad to see me.

I'm not glad to see you.

You have no right to come here.

But I knew you would come.

You knew it,

How?

Your eyes taught me so today.

I'm not blind.

I can see further than those dull fisherfolks.

I knew you would come.

That is why I came here tonight,

So that you would find me alone and I could tell you you were not to come again.

Why must you tell me that,

Magdalene?

Because as I've told you,

You've no right to come.

But if I will not obey you,

I will come in defiance of your prohibition.

She turned her steady,

Luminous eyes on his pale,

Set face.

You would stamp yourself as a madman then,

She said coldly.

I know you are Miss Leslie's promised husband.

Therefore,

You are either forced to her or insulting to me.

In either case,

The companionship of Magdalene Crawford is not what you must seek.

Go!

She turned away from him with an imperious gesture of dismissal.

Estabrook Elliott stepped forward and caught one firm,

White wrist.

I shall not obey you,

He said in a low,

Intense tone.

His fine eyes burned into hers.

You may send me away,

But I will come back again and yet again until you've learned to welcome me.

Why should you meet me like an enemy?

Why can we not be friends?

The girl faced him once more.

Because,

She said proudly,

I am not your equal.

There can be no friendship between us.

There ought not to be.

Magdalene Crawford,

The fisherman's niece,

Is no companion for you.

You will be foolish as well as disloyal if you ever try to see me again.

Go back to the beautiful,

High-bred woman you love and forget me.

Perhaps you think I'm talking strangely.

Perhaps you think me bold and unwomanly to speak so plainly to you,

A stranger.

But there are some circumstances in life where plain speaking is best.

I do not want to see you again.

Now go back to your own world.

Estabrook Elliott slowly turned from her and walked in silence back to the shore.

In the shadows of the point,

He stopped to look back at her,

Staring out like some inspired prophetess against the fiery backdrop of the sunset sky and fiery water.

The sky overhead was thick-sown with stars.

The night breeze was blowing up from its lair in distant,

Echoing sea caves.

On his right,

The lights of the cove twinkled out through the dusk.

I feel like a coward and a traitor,

He said slowly.

Good God,

What is this madness that's come over me?

Is this my boasted strength of manhood?

A moment later,

The hoofbeats of his horse died away up the shore.

Magdalene Crawford lingered on the point until the last dull red faded out into the violet gloom of the June sea dusk.

Than which nothing can be rarer or diviner.

She listened to the moan and murmur of the sea far out over the bay with sorrowful eyes and sternly set lips.

The next day,

When the afternoon sun hung low and heavy over the water,

Estabrook Elliott came again.

He found the cove deserted.

A rumour of mackerel had come and every boat had sailed out in the rose-red dawn to the fishing grounds.

But down on a strip of sparkling yellow sand,

He saw Magdalene Crawford standing,

Her hand on the rope that fastened a small white dory to the fragment of half-embedded wreck.

She was watching a huddle of gulls clustered on the tip of a narrow sandy split running out to the left.

She turned at the sound of his hurried footfall behind her.

Her face paled slightly and into the depths of her eyes leapt a passionate mesmeric glow that faded as quickly as it came.

You see I've come back in spite of your command,

Magdalene.

I do see it,

She answered in a gravely troubled voice.

You are a madman who refuses to be warned.

Where are you going,

Magdalene?

She had loosened the rope from the wreck.

I'm going over to row to Chapel Point for salt.

They think the boats will come in tonight loaded with mackerel.

Look at them away up there by the score.

Salt will be needed.

Can you row so far alone?

Easily,

I learned to row long ago,

For a pastime then.

Since coming here I find it of great service to me.

Magdalene stepped lightly into the tiny shallop and picked up an oar.

The brilliant sunshine streamed about her burnishing the rich tints of her hair into ruddy gold.

She balanced herself to the swaying of the dory with the grace of a sea bird.

The man looking at her felt his brain reel.

Goodbye,

Mr Elliot.

For an answer he sprang into the dory and snatching up an oar pushed against the old wreck with such energy the dory shot out from the shore like a foam bell.

His sudden spring set it rocking violently.

Magdalene almost lost her footing and caught blindly at his arm.

As her fingers closed on his wrist a thrill as of fire shot through his every vein.

Why have you done this,

Mr Elliot?

You must go back.

But I will not,

He said masterfully,

Looking straight into her eyes with an imperiousness that sat well upon him.

I'm going to row you over to Chapel Point.

I have the oars.

I will be master this once,

At least.

For an instant Magdalene's eyes flashed defiant protest then drooped before his.

Her sudden hot blush crimson her pale face.

His will had mastered hers.

The girl trembled from head to foot and the proud sensitive mouth now quivered.

Into the face of the man watching her breathlessly rushed a triumphant passionate joy.

He put out his hand and gently pushed her down into the seat.

Sitting opposite,

He took up the oars and pulled out over the sheet of sparkling blue water.

His heart throbbed tumultuously.

Once the thought of Marion drifted across his mind like a chill breath of wind.

But it was forgotten when his eyes met Magdalene's.

Tell me about yourself,

He said at last breaking the tremulous charmed sparkling silence.

There's nothing to tell,

She answered.

My life has been a very uneventful one.

I've never been rich or well educated.

But it used to be different from now.

I did have some chance before.

Before father died.

You must have found it very lonely and strange when you came here.

Yes,

At first I thought I should die.

But I do not mind it now.

I've made friends with the sea and it's taught me a great deal.

There's a kind of inspiration in the sea.

When one listens to its never ceasing murmur.

Always sounding at midnight and midday.

One's soul goes out to meet eternity.

Sometimes it gives me so much pleasure.

It's almost pain.

She stopped abruptly.

I don't know why I'm talking to you like this.

You're a strange girl,

Magdalene.

Have you no other companion in the sea?

Why should I wish to have?

I shall not be here long.

Elliot's face contracted with a spasm of pain.

You're not going away.

Yes,

In the fall.

I have my own living to earn,

You know.

I'm very poor.

Uncle and aunt are very kind.

But I can't consent to burden them any longer than I can help.

A sigh,

Almost like a moan,

Broke from Estherbrooke Elliot's lips.

You must not go away,

He said.

You must stay here with me.

You forget yourself,

She said proudly.

How dare you speak to me so?

Have you forgotten Miss Leslie?

Or are you a traitor to us both?

Estherbrooke made no answer.

He simply bowed his pale,

Miserable face before her,

Self-condemned.

The breast of the bay sparkled with countless gems like the breast of a fair woman.

The shores were purple and amethystine.

In the distance,

Far out,

Bluish,

Phantom-like sails clustered against the pallid horizon.

The dory danced like a feather over the ripples.

They were close under the shadow of Chapel Point.

Marion Leslie waited in vain for her lover that afternoon.

When he came at last in the odorous dusk of the June night,

She met him on the acacia-shadowed veranda with cold sweetness.

Perhaps some subtle woman instinct whispered to her where and how he'd spent the afternoon.

For she offered him no kiss,

Nor did she ask him why he'd failed to come sooner.

His eyes lingered on her in the dim light,

Taking in every detail of her sweet womanly refinement and loveliness.

And with difficulty he choked back a groan.

Again he asked himself what madness had come over him,

And again for an answer rose up the vision of Magdalene Crawford's face.

It was late when he left.

Marion watched him out of sight,

Standing under the acacias,

And she shivered with a sudden chill.

I feel as I think Vashti must have felt,

She murmured aloud.

When dis-crowned and unqueened,

She crept out of the gates of Shushan to hide her broken heart.

I wonder if Esther has already unsurped my scepter.

Has that girl on the cove with her pale priest-like face and mysterious eyes stolen his heart from me?

Perhaps not.

It may never have even been mine.

I know that Estabrook Elliot will be true to the letter of his vows to me,

No matter what it might cost him.

But I want no pallid shadow of the love that belongs to another.

The hour of abdication is at hand,

I fear,

And what will be left for throne-less Vashti then?

Estabrook Elliot,

Walking home through the mocking calm of the night,

Fought a hard battle with himself.

He was face to face with the truth at last.

The bitter knowledge he'd never really loved Marion Leslie,

Save with a fond,

Brotherly affection,

And that he did love Magdalene Crawford,

With a passion that threatened to sweep before it every vestige of his honour and loyalty.

He had seen her but three times,

And yet his throbbing heart lay in the hollow of her cold white hand.

He shut his eyes and groaned.

What madness!

What unutterable folly!

He was not free.

He was bound to another by every cord of honour and self-respect.

And even if he were free,

Magdalene Crawford would be no fit wife for him,

In the eyes of the world at least.

A girl from the cove,

A girl with little education and no social standing.

But he loved her.

In the week that followed,

He went to the cove every day.

Sometimes he did not see Magdalene.

At other times he did.

But at the end of the week he'd conquered the bitter,

Heart-crushing struggle with himself.

Faltering and wavering were over,

Though there was passionate pain in his voice when he said at last,

I am not coming back again,

Magdalene.

Magdalene turned as the book spoke and looked at him in a long silence.

The bay stretched out before them,

Tranced and shimmering.

A few stars shone down through the gloom of dusk.

That is best,

She answered at last.

Right across the translucent greens and roses and blues of the west hung a dark,

Unsightly cloud,

Like the blurred outline of a monstrous bat.

In the dim reflected light,

The girl's mournful face took on a weird,

Unearthly beauty.

Better that we had never met,

He said.

I love you,

You know it.

Words arrived all between us I'd never loved before.

I thought I did.

I made a mistake and I must pay the penalty of that mistake.

You understand?

I understand,

She answered simply.

I do not excuse myself.

I've been weak and cowardly and disloyal.

But I will be true to the woman whom I pledged.

You and I will not meet again.

I will crush this madness to death.

I have much for which to ask your forgiveness.

There is nothing to forgive,

She said steadily.

I have been as much to blame as you.

He stepped forward and caught her in his arms.

Goodbye,

My darling.

Kiss me once before I go.

She loosened his arms and stepped back proudly.

No man kisses my lips unless he is to be my husband.

Goodbye,

Dear.

And so he bowed his head silently and went away,

Looking back not at me.

Not once.

Else he might have seen her kneeling on the damp sand,

Weeping noiselessly and passionately.

Mary and Leslie looked at the pale,

Determined face the next evening and read it like an open book.

She had grown paler herself.

There were purple shadows under the sweet violet eyes that might have hinted of her own sleepless night.

She greeted Esther calmly,

Holding out a steady white hand of welcome.

She saw the traces of the struggle through which he'd passed and knew he'd come off victor.

The knowledge made her task a little harder still.

It would have been easier to let slip the straining cable than to cast it from her when it lay unresistingly in her hand.

For an instant,

Her heart thrilled with unutterably sweet hope.

Might he not forget in time?

Need she snap in twain the weakened bond between them?

Perhaps she might win back her lost scepter after all.

Yet womanly pride throttled the struggling hope.

No divided allegiance,

No hollow semblance of queenship for her.

Her opportunity came when Estabrook asked,

With grave earnestness,

If their marriage might not be hastened a little.

Could he not have his bride in August?

For a fleeting second,

Marian closed her eyes and the slender hands lying among the laces in her lap clasped each other convulsively.

Sometimes I have thought,

Estabrook,

She said.

It might be better if we were never married at all.

Estabrook turned a startled face upon her.

Not married at all,

Marian,

What do you mean?

Just what I say.

I don't think we're as well suited to each other after all as we have fancied.

We have loved each other as brother and sister,

That is all.

I think it will be best to be brother and sister forever.

Nothing more.

Estabrook sprang to his feet.

Do you know what you're saying?

You surely cannot have heard.

No one could have told you.

I've heard nothing,

She interrupted hurriedly.

No one has told me anything.

I have only said what I've been thinking of late.

I'm sure we've made a mistake.

It's not too late to remedy it.

You will not refuse my request,

I trust?

Good heavens,

Marian,

I cannot believe you're in earnest.

If you really mean this,

If you really have come to feel your truest love's not and never can be mine,

Then there's nothing for me to do but grant your request.

He looked down on her upturned face,

Mysterly.

A great joy was surging in his heart,

Yet it was mingled with great regret.

He knew none better what was passing out of his life,

What he was losing when he lost that pure womanly nature.

Thank you,

Dear,

She said gently as she stood up.

Then she slipped his ring from her finger and held it out.

He took it,

Mechanically,

Feeling dazed and unreal.

Good night,

She said a little wearily.

I feel tired.

I'm glad you see it all in the same light I do.

But Marian,

He said earnestly,

Are you sure you will be happy?

Are you sure you're doing a wise thing?

Not quite sure,

She asked.

He answered with a faint smile.

I thought it over carefully.

When another love comes to bless your life,

Esther Brooke,

I will be glad.

And now,

Good night,

I want to be alone.

At the doorway,

He turned to look back at her,

Standing in all her sweet stateliness in the twilight duskness.

The keen realisation of all he'd lost made him bow his head with a quick pang of regret.

But an hour later,

He stood alone on the little point where he'd parted with Magdalene the night before.

He took Marian's ring from his pocket and kissed it reverently.

Then he threw it out from him far over the water.

For a second,

The diamond flashed in the moonlight.

Then with a tiny splash,

It fell among the ripples.

Esther Brooke turned his face to the cove.

Lying dark and silent in the curve between the crescent headlands.

A solitary light glimmered from the low eaves of the Barrett cottage.

Tomorrow,

Was his unspoken thought.

I will be free.

And I will go back to Magdalene.

The End

Reviews

Thank you for reading some of Lucy Maude Montgomery’s work. I’ve only just discovered her recently and I really am enjoying her work!