RUPERT’S JOURNAL—Continued.

July 1, 1907.

Another week gone.  I have waited patiently, and I am at last rewarded by another letter.  I was preparing for bed a little while ago, when I heard the same mysterious sound at the door as on the last two occasions.  I hurried to the glass door, and there found another close-folded letter.  But I could see no sign of my Lady, or of any other living being.  The letter, which was without direction, ran as follows:

“If you are still of the same mind, and feel no misgivings, meet me at the Church of St. Sava beyond the Creek to-morrow night at a quarter before midnight.  If you come, come in secret, and, of course, alone.  Do not come at all unless you are prepared for a terrible ordeal.  But if you love me, and have neither doubts nor fears, come.  Come!”

Needless to say, I did not sleep last night.  I tried to, but without success.  It was no morbid happiness that kept me awake, no doubting, no fear.  I was simply overwhelmed with the idea of the coming rapture when I should call my Lady my very, very own.  In this sea of happy expectation all lesser things were submerged.  Even sleep, which is an imperative force with me, failed in its usual effectiveness, and I lay still, calm, content.

With the coming of the morning, however, restlessness began.  I did not know what to do, how to restrain myself, where to look for an anodyne.  Happily the latter came in the shape of Rooke, who turned up shortly after breakfast.  He had a satisfactory tale to tell me of the armoured yacht, which had lain off Cattaro on the previous night, and to which he had brought his contingent of crew which had waited for her coming.  He did not like to take the risk of going into any port with such a vessel, lest he might be detained or otherwise hampered by forms, and had gone out upon the open sea before daylight.  There was on board the yacht a tiny torpedo-boat, for which provision was made both for hoisting on deck and housing there.  This last would run into the creek at ten o’clock that evening, at which time it would be dark.  The yacht would then run to near Otranto, to which she would send a boat to get any message I might send.  This was to be in a code, which we arranged, and would convey instructions as to what night and approximate hour the yacht would come to the creek.

The day was well on before we had made certain arrangements for the future; and not till then did I feel again the pressure of my personal restlessness.  Rooke, like a wise commander, took rest whilst he could.  Well he knew that for a couple of days and nights at least there would be little, if any, sleep for him.

For myself, the habit of self-control stood to me, and I managed to get through the day somehow without exciting the attention of anyone else.  The arrival of the torpedo-boat and the departure of Rooke made for me a welcome break in my uneasiness.  An hour ago I said good-night to Aunt Janet, and shut myself up alone here.  My watch is on the table before me, so that I may make sure of starting to the moment.  I have allowed myself half an hour to reach St. Sava.  My skiff is waiting, moored at the foot of the cliff on the hither side, where the zigzag comes close to the water.  It is now ten minutes past eleven.

I shall add the odd five minutes to the time for my journey so as to make safe.  I go unarmed and without a light.

I shall show no distrust of anyone or anything this night.