Lord of the Far Island by Victoria Holt (romance book recommendations TXT) 📗

knowing something, of doing something, of being something I was not. He would not believe that Philip's death was as much a mystery to me as it was to him.

I went for long walks but there was no comfort. There I had been with Philip. There was hardly any spot in the neighborhood which had not been one of our haunts. I rode out alone although Esmeralda always tried to accompany me, but then I would come to the inn where Philip and I—or perhaps the three of us but I suppose neither of us gave much thought to Esmeralda—had stopped for cider and a sandwich. There was the old smithy who had shoed our horses. He called a greeting to me as I passed, but his eyes were downcast and he did not know what to say. It was the same in the village where they had known us as children. They looked at me covertly and I knew the question which was in all their minds: Why had Philip killed himself? It was something to do with me. He would rather die than marry me. That was the inference everyone was putting on it.

I couldn't resist going to Dead Man's Leap. There I would sit on the old wooden seat and brood over the many times when Philip and I had played in the woods from which we had emerged with a reluctant Esmeralda and forced her to witness our bravery in standing on the edge.

. Dead Man's Leap! I thought a great deal about people who had found life so intolerable that they wanted to end it and I wondered what their tragedies had been to bring them to such a pass. One thing I was certain of. Philip had never been in that state. He could not have killed himself. But that had been the verdict. Why? Had I really known that boy with whom I had shared my childhood? Does one person ever really know another. I had always thought Philip was easy to understand. He said what was in his mind and rarely paused to think what effect his words might have. He was easygoing, good-tempered, a little lazy perhaps, eager for the good things of life but not liable to make any effort to get them, the son of a rich family who had never really lacked anything he wanted. That was how I had thought of Philip, but how much had I known of what lurked in the dark recesses of his mind?

A great melancholy would descend upon me as I sat on that seat. Esmeralda asked me where I had been and when I told her she was horrified. "You shouldn't go there," she said, "it's morbid."

"It suits my mood," I replied. "I can think of Philip there and in a strange way it comforts me."

"I'll come with you," she would say, but I always protested: "No, no. I want to be alone."

She was worried about me.

One morning when I was in the woods I had the strange feeling that I was not alone. I wasn't sure quite what made me think so. Perhaps I heard an unexpected noise—the dislodging of a stone, the rustle of leaves, the sudden scuttling of some disturbed animal. But as I sat on the wooden seat I sensed a presence. I thought: Is it true that the spirits of those poor souls who ended their lives abruptly cannot rest and come back to the last place they knew on earth? That was what was generally believed by those who said the place was haunted.

Oddly enough, instead of repelling me, this feeling attracted me. Perhaps I felt that I might be in touch with Philip and he would come back and tell me why he had died.

So every morning my footsteps led me almost involuntarily to Dead Man's Leap, and often I had the feeling that I was observed.

It was a hot sultry morning and I was glad to be in the cool woods. It was one of those still silent mornings when people say there is thunder in the air. More than ever I had the feeling that I was being watched as I sat on the seat and thought of Philip, wishing fervently that I could hear him whisper my name. I wished that I were young and carefree again when my chief desire had been to score over Philip and prove to him that girls were just as good as boys. I should have liked to go back to the time of our engagement that I might take less for granted and try to understand more about the man I was to marry. No matter what the evidence, no matter what the verdict, I could never accept the idea that he had killed himself. There must be another explanation.

I went to the path as I always did before returning. I liked to look down into the bushes far below and remember the thrill it used to give me as a child.

I gripped the rail and leaned forward and then suddenly it swung forward, taking me with it, so that I was clinging to it and hanging in mid-air. A startled bird flew up, brushing my face as it went past me. I had time to think: This is the end! before I fell.

I opened my eyes. I could scarcely breathe so fast was my heart beating. I looked down; far below were the tops of trees. I felt my feet slipping and I clutched at the bushes into which I had fallen.

Then I saw what had happened. By incredible good luck I had only fallen, a few feet before my skirts had been caught in one of the thick clumps of bushes which grew on the steep hillside.

For some minutes I was unable to do anything but hang on with all my might. Then my heartbeats began to slow down and I was able to take stock of the situation. I looked up