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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/12360-0.txt b/12360-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2ea9ea8 --- /dev/null +++ b/12360-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,14661 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12360 *** + +THE TOP OF THE WORLD + +By + +Ethel M. Dell + + + +Author of "The Way of an Eagle," "The Lamp in the Desert." + + + +1920 + + + + +I DEDICATE THIS BOOK + +TO THE PRECIOUS MEMORY + +OF MY MOTHER + + + + +"The years shall not outgo my thinking of thee" + + + + + When you have reached the top of the world + And only the stars remain, + Where there is never the sound of storm + And neither cold nor rain, + Will it be by wealth, success, or fame + That you mounted to your goal? + Nay, I mount only by faith and love + And God's goodness to my soul. + + When you have reached the top of the world + And the higher stars grow near, + When greater dreams succeed our dreams + And the lesser disappear, + Will the world at your feet seem good to you, + A vision fair to see? + Nay, I look upward for one I love + Who has promised to wait for me. + + For to those who reach the top of the world + The things of the world seem less + Than the rungs of the ladder by which they climbed + To their place of happiness, + And I think that success and wealth and fame + Will be the first to pall, + For they reach their goal but by faith and love + And God's goodness over all. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +PART I + +CHAPTER + + I.--ADVICE + II.--THE NEW MISTRESS + III.--THE WHIP-HAND + IV.--THE VICTORY + V.--THE MIRACLE + VI.--THE LAND OF STRANGERS + VII.--THE WRONG TURNING + VIII.--THE COMRADE + IX.--THE ARRIVAL + X.--THE DREAM + XI.--THE CROSS-ROADS + XII.--THE STAKE + + +PART 11 + + I.--COMRADES + II.--THE VISITORS + III.--THE BARGAIN + IV.--THE CAPTURE + V.--THE GOOD CAUSE + VI.--THE RETURN + VII.--THE GUEST + VIII.--THE INTERRUPTION + IX.--THE ABYSS + X.--THE DESIRE TO LIVE + XI.--THE REMEDY + + +PART III + + I.--THE NEW ERA + II.--INTO BATTLE + III.--THE SEED + IV.--MIRAGE + V.--EVERYBODY'S FRIEND + VI.--THE HERO + VII.--THE NET + VIII.--THE SUMMONS + IX.--FOR THE SAKE OF THE OLD LOVE + X.--THE BEARER OF EVIL TIDINGS + XI.--THE SHARP CORNER + XII.--THE COST + + +PART IV + + I.--SAND OF THE DESERT + II.--THE SKELETON TREE + III.--THE PUNISHMENT + IV.--THE EVIL THING + V.--THE LAND OF BLASTED HOPES + VI.--THE PARTING + VII.--PIET VREIBOOM + VIII.--OUT OF THE DEPTHS + IX.--THE MEETING + X.--THE TRUTH + XI.--THE STORM + XII.--THE SACRIFICE + XIII.--BY FAITH AND LOVE + + + + +The Top of the World + + +PART I + +CHAPTER I + +ADVICE + +"You ought to get married, Miss Sylvia," said old Jeffcott, the +head gardener, with a wag of his hoary beard. "You'll need to be +your own mistress now." + +"I should hope I am that anyway," said, Sylvia with a little laugh. + +She stood in the great vinery--a vivid picture against a background +of clustering purple fruit. The sunset glinted on her tawny hair. +Her red-brown eyes, set wide apart, held a curious look, half +indignant, half appealing. + +Old Jeffcott surveyed her with loving admiration. There was no one +in the world to compare with Miss Sylvia in his opinion. He loved +the open English courage of her, the high, inborn pride of race. +Yet at the end of the survey he shook his head. + +"There's not room for two mistresses in this establishment, Miss +Sylvia," he said wisely. "Three years to have been on your own, so +to speak, is too long. You did ought to get married, Miss Sylvia. +You'll find it's the only way." + +His voice took on almost a pleading note. He knew it was possible +to go too far. + +But the girl facing him was still laughing. She evidently felt no +resentment. + +"You see, Jeffcott," she said, "there's only one man in the world I +could marry. And he's not ready for me yet." + +Jeffcott wagged his beard again commiseratingly. "So you've never +got over it, Miss Sylvia? Your feelings is still the same--after +five years?" + +"Still the same," said Sylvia. There was a momentary challenge in +her bright eyes, but it passed. "It couldn't be any different," +she said softly. "No one else could ever come anywhere near him." + +Jeffcott sighed aloud. "I know he were a nice young gentleman," he +conceded. "But I've seen lots as good before and since. He +weren't nothing so very extraordinary, Miss Sylvia." + +Sylvia's look went beyond him, seeming to rest upon something very +far away. "He was to me, Jeffcott," she said. "We just--fitted +each other, he and I." + +"And you was only eighteen," pleaded Jeffcott, "You wasn't +full-grown in those days." + +"No?" A quick sigh escaped her; her look came back to him, and she +smiled. "Well, I am now anyway; and that's the one thing that +hasn't altered or grown old--the one thing that never could." + +"Ah, dear!" said old Jeffcott. "What a pity now as you couldn't +take up with young Mr. Eversley or that Mr. Preston over the way, +or--or--any of them young gents with a bit of property as might be +judged suitable!" + +Sylvia's laugh rang through the vinery, a gay, infectious laugh. + +"Oh, really, Jeffcott! You talk as if I had only got to drop my +handkerchief for the whole countryside to rush to pick it up! I'm +not going to take up with anyone, unless it's Mr. Guy Ranger. You +don't seem to realize that we've been engaged all this time." + +"Ah!" said old Jeffcott, looking sardonic. "And you not met for +five years! Do you ever wonder to yourself what sort of a man he +may be after five years, Miss Sylvia? It's a long time for a young +man to keep in love at a distance. It's a very long time." + +"It's a long time for both of us," said Sylvia. "But it hasn't +altered us in that respect." + +"It's been a longer time for him than it has for you," said +Jeffcott shrewdly. "I'll warrant he's lived every minute of it. +He's the sort that would." + +Sylvia's wide brows drew together in a little frown. She had +caught the note of warning in the old man's words, and she did not +understand it. + +"What do you mean, Jeffcott?" she said, with a touch of sharpness. + +But Jeffcott backed out of the vinery and out of the discussion at +the same moment. "You'll know what I mean one day, Miss Sylvia," +he said darkly, "when you're married." + +"Silly old man!" said Sylvia, taking up the cluster of grapes for +which she had come and departing in the opposite direction. +Jeffcott was a faithful old servant, but he could be very +exasperating when he liked. + +The gardens were bathed in the evening sunlight as she passed +through them on her way to the house. The old Manor stood out grey +and ancient against an opal sky. She looked up at it with loving +eyes. Her home meant very much to Sylvia Ingleton. Until the last +six months she had always regarded it as her own life-long +possession. For she was an only child, and for the past three +years she had been its actual mistress, though virtually she had +held the reins of government longer than that. Her mother had been +delicate for as long as she could remember, and it was on account +of her failing health that Sylvia had left school earlier than had +been intended, that she might be with her. Since Mrs. Ingleton's +death, three years before, she and her father had lived alone +together at the old Manor in complete accord. They had always been +close friends, the only dissension that had ever arisen between +them having been laid aside by mutual consent. + +That dissension had been caused by Guy Ranger. Five years before, +when Sylvia had been only eighteen, he had flashed like a meteor +through her sky, and no other star had ever shone for her again. +Though seven years older than herself, he was little more than a +boy, full of gaiety and life, possessing an extraordinary +fascination, but wholly lacking in prospects, being no more than +the son of Squire Ingleton's bailiff. + +The Rangers were people of good yeoman extraction, and Guy himself +had had a public school education, but the fact of their position +was an obstacle which the squire had found insuperable. Only his +love for his daughter had restrained him from violent measures. +But Sylvia had somehow managed to hold him, how no one ever knew, +for he was a man of fiery temper. And the end of if it had been +that Guy had been banished to join a cousin farming in South Africa +on the understanding that if he made a success of it he might +eventually return and ask Sylvia to be his wife. There was to be +no engagement between them, and if she elected to marry in the +meantime so much the better, in the squire's opinion. He had had +little doubt that Sylvia would marry when she had had time to +forget some of the poignancy of first love. But in this he had +been mistaken. Sylvia had steadfastly refused every lover who had +come her way. + +He had found another billet for old Ranger, and had installed a +dour Scotchman in his place. But Sylvia still corresponded with +young Guy, still spoke of him as the man she meant to marry. It +was true she did not often speak of him, but that might have been +through lack of sympathetic listeners. There was, moreover, about +her an innate reserve which held her back where her deepest +feelings were concerned. But her father knew, and she meant him to +know, that neither time nor distance had eradicated the image of +the man she loved from her heart. The days on which his letters +reached her were always marked with a secret gladness, albeit the +letters themselves held sometimes little more than affectionate +commentary upon her own. + +That Guy was making his way and that he would eventually return to +her were practical certainties in her young mind. If his letters +contained little to support this belief, she yet never questioned +it for a moment. Guy was the sort to get on. She was sure of it. +And he was worth waiting for. Oh, she could afford to be patient +for Guy. She did not, moreover, believe that her father would hold +out for ever. Also, and secretly this thought buoyed her up in +rare moments of depression, in another two years--when she was +twenty-five--she would inherit some money from her mother. It was +not a very large sum, but it would be enough to render her +independent. It would very greatly increase her liberty of action. +She had little doubt that the very fact of it would help to +overcome her father's prejudices and very considerably modify his +attitude. + +So, in a fashion, she had during the past three years come to +regard her twenty-fifth birthday as a milestone in her life. She +would be patient till it came, but then--at last--if circumstances +permitted, she would take her fate into her own hands, She +would--at last--assume the direction of her own life. + +So she had planned, but so it was not to be. Her fate had already +begun to shape itself in a fashion that was little to her liking. +Travelling with her father in the North earlier in the summer, she +had met with a slight accident which had compelled her to make the +acquaintance of a lady staying at the same hotel whom she had +disliked at the outset and always sought to avoid. This lady, Mrs. +Emmott, was a widow with no settled home. Profiting by +circumstances she had attached herself to Sylvia and her father, +and now she was the latter's wife. + +How it had come about, even now Sylvia scarcely realized. The +woman's intentions had barely begun to dawn upon her before they +had become accomplished fact. Her father's attitude throughout had +amazed her, so astoundingly easy had been his capture. He was +infatuated, possibly for the first time in his life, and no +influence of hers could remove the spell. + +Sylvia's feelings for Mrs. Emmott passed very rapidly from dislike +to active detestation. Her iron strength of will, combined with an +almost blatant vulgarity, gave the girl a sense of being borne down +by an irresistible weight. Very soon her aversion became such that +it was impossible to conceal it. And Mrs. Emmott laughed in her +face. She hated Sylvia too, but she looked forward to subduing the +unbending pride that so coldly withstood her, and for the sake of +that she kept her animosity in check. She knew her turn would come. + +Meantime, she concentrated all her energies upon the father, and +with such marked success that within two months of their meeting +they were married. Sylvia had gone to that wedding in such +bitterness of soul and seething inward revolt as she had never +experienced before. She did not know how she had come through it, +so great had been her disgust. But that was nearly six weeks ago, +and she had had time to recover. She had spent part of that period +very peacefully and happily at the seaside with a young married +cousin and her babies, and it had rested and refreshed her. She +had come back with a calm resolve to endure what had to be endured +in a philosophical spirit, to face the inevitable without futile +rebellion. + +Girt in an impenetrable armour of reserve, she braced herself to +bear her burdens unflinching, so that none might ever guess how it +galled her. And on that golden evening in September she prepared +herself with a smiling countenance to meet her enemy in the gate. + +They were returning from a prolonged honeymoon among the Italian +lakes, and she had made everything ready for their coming. The +great west-facing bedroom, which her father had never occupied +since her mother's death, had been redecorated and prepared as for +a bride. Sylvia had changed it completely, so that it might never +again look as it had looked in the old days. She had hated doing +it, but it had been in a measure a relief to her torn heart. It +was thus she rendered inviolate that inner sanctuary of memory +which none might enter. + +As she passed along the terrace in the golden glow, the slight +frown was still upon her brow. It had been such a difficult time. +Her one ray of comfort had been the thought of Guy, dear, faithful +lover working for her far away. And now old Jeffcott had cast a +shade even upon that. But then he did not really know Guy. No one +knew him as she knew him. She quickened her steps a little. +Possibly there might be a letter from him that evening. + +There was. She spied it lying on the hall table as she entered. +Eagerly she went forward and picked it up. But as she did so there +came the sound of a car in the drive before the open front door, +and quickly she thrust it away in the folds of her dress. The +travellers had returned. + +With a resolutely smiling face she went to meet them. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE NEW MISTRESS + +"Here is our dear Sylvia!" said Mrs. Ingleton. + +She embraced the girl with much _empressement_, and then, before +Sylvia could reach her father, turned and embraced him herself. + +"So very nice to be home, dear!" she said effusively. "We shall be +very happy here." + +Gilbert Ingleton bestowed a somewhat embarrassed salute upon her, +one eye on his daughter. She greeted him sedately the next moment, +and though her face was smiling, her welcome seemed to be frozen at +its source; it held no warmth. + +Mrs. Ingleton, tall, handsome, assertive, cast an appraising eye +around the oak-panelled hall. "Dear me! What severe splendour!" +she commented. "I have a great love for cosiness myself. We must +scatter some of those sweet little Italian ornaments about, +Gilbert. You won't know the place when I have done with it. I am +going to take you all in hand and bring you up-to-date." + +Her keen dark eyes rested upon her step-daughter with a smile of +peculiar meaning. Sylvia met them with the utmost directness. + +"We like simplicity," she said. + +Mrs. Ingleton pursed her lips, "Oh, but there is simplicity and +simplicity! Give me warmth, homeliness, and plenty of pretty +things. This place is archaically cold--quite like a convent. And +you, my dear, might be the Sister Superior from your air. Now, +Gilbert darling, you and I are going to be very firm with this +child. I can plainly see she needs a guiding hand. She has had +much too much responsibility for so young a girl. We are going to +alter all that. We are going to make her very happy--as well as +good." + +She tapped Sylvia's shoulder with smiling significance, looking at +her husband to set his seal to the declaration. + +Mr. Ingleton was obviously feeling very uncomfortable. He glanced +at Sylvia almost appealingly. + +"I hope we are all going to be happy," he said rather gruffly. +"Don't see why we shouldn't be, I'm sure. I like a quiet life +myself. Got some tea for us, Sylvia?" + +Sylvia turned, stiffly unresponsive to her step-mother's +blandishments. "This way," she said, and crossed the hall to the +drawing-room. + +It was a beautiful room aglow just then with the rays of the +western sun. Mrs. Ingleton looked all around her with smiling +criticism, and nodded to herself as if seeing her way to many +improvements. She walked to the windows. + +"What a funny, old-fashioned garden! Quite medieval! I foresee a +very busy time in store. Who lives on the other side of this +property?" + +"Preston--George Preston, the M.F.H.," said her husband, lounging +up behind her. "About the richest man about here. Made his money +on the Turf." + +She gave him a quick look. "Is he young?" she asked. + +He hesitated, "Not very." + +"Married?" questioned Mrs. Ingleton, with the air of a ferret +pursuing its quarry down a hole. + +"No," said the squire, somewhat reluctantly. + +"Ah!" said Mrs. Ingleton, in a tone of satisfaction. + +"Won't you have some tea?" said Sylvia's grave voice behind them. + +Mrs. Ingleton wheeled. "Bless the child!" she exclaimed. "She has +a face as long as a fiddle. Let us have tea by all means. I am as +hungry as a hunter. I hope there is something really substantial +for us." + +"It is less than an hour to dinner," said Sylvia. + +She hardly looked at her father. Somehow she had a feeling that he +did not want to meet her eyes. + +He sat in almost unbroken silence while she poured out the tea, +"for the last time, dear," as her step-mother jocosely remarked, +and for his sake alone she exerted herself to make polite +conversation with this new mistress of the Manor. + +It was not easy, for Mrs. Ingleton did not want to talk upon +indifferent subjects. Her whole attitude was one of unconcealed +triumph. It was obvious that she meant to enjoy her conquest to +the utmost. She was not in the least tired after her journey; she +was one of those people who never tire. And as soon as she had +refreshed herself with tea she announced her intention of going +round the house. + +Her husband, however, intervened upon this point, assuring her that +there would be ample time in the morning, and Mrs. Ingleton yielded +it not very gracefully. + +She was placed at the head of the table at dinner, but she could +not accept the position without comment. + +"Poor little Sylvia! We shall have to make up for this, or I shall +never be forgiven," with an arch look at the squire which +completely missed its mark. + +There were no subtleties about Gilbert Ingleton. He was thoroughly +uncomfortable, and his manner proclaimed the fact aloud. If he +were happy with his enchantress away from home, the home atmosphere +completely dispelled all enchantment. Was it the fault of the +slim, erect girl with the red-brown eyes who sat so gravely silent +on his right hand? + +He could not in justice accuse her, and yet the strong sense of her +disapproval irritated him. What right had she, his daughter, to +sit in judgment upon him? Surely he was entitled to act for +himself--choose his own course--make his own hell if he wished! It +was all quite unanswerable. He knew she would not have attempted +to answer if he had put it to her, but that very fact made him the +more sore. He hated to feel himself at variance with Sylvia. + +"Can't you play something?" he said to her in desperation as they +entered the drawing-room after dinner. + +She looked at bun, her wide brows slightly raised. + +"Well?" he questioned impatiently. + +"Ask--Mrs. Ingleton first!" she said in a rapid whisper. + +Mrs. Ingleton caught it, however. She had the keen senses of a +lynx. "Now, Sylvia, my child, come here!" she commanded playfully. +"I can't have you calling me that, you know. If we are going to +live together, we must have absolutely clear understanding between +us on all points. Don't you agree with me, Gilbert?" + +Ingleton growled something unintelligible, and made for the open +window. + +"Don't go!" said his wife with a touch of peremptoriness. "I want +you here. Tell this dear child that as I have determined to be a +mother to her she is to address me as such!" + +Ingleton barely paused. "You must settle that between yourselves," +he said gruffly. "And for heaven's sake, don't fight over it!" + +He passed heavily forth, and Sylvia, after a very brief hesitation, +sat down in a chair facing her step-mother. + +"I am sorry," she said quietly. "But I can't call you Mother. +Anything else you like to suggest, but not that." + +Mrs. Ingleton uttered an unpleasant laugh. "I hope you are going +to try and be sensible, my dear," she said, "for I assure you +high-flown sentiment does not appeal to me in the very least. As +head of your father's house, I must insist upon being treated with +due respect. Let me warn you at the outset, though quite willing +to befriend you, I am not a very patient woman. I am not prepared +to put up with any slights." + +Her voice lifted gradually as she proceeded till she ended upon a +note that was almost shrill. + +Sylvia sat very still. Her hands were clasped tightly about her +knee. Her face was pale, and the red-brown eyes glittered a +little, but she betrayed no other signs of emotion, + +"I quite understand," she said after a moment. "But that doesn't +solve the present difficulty, does it? I cannot possibly call you +by a name that is sacred to someone else." + +She spoke very quietly, but there was indomitable resolution in her +very calm--a resolution that exasperated Mrs. Ingleton almost +beyond endurance. + +She arose with a sweeping gesture. "Oh, very well then," she said. +"You shall call me Madam!" + +Sylvia looked up at her. "I think that is quite a good idea," she +said in a tone that somehow stung her hearer, unbearably. "I will +do that." + +"And don't be impertinent!" she said, beginning to pace to and fro +like an angry tigress. "I will not put up with it, Sylvia. I warn +you. You have been thoroughly spoilt all your life. I know the +signs quite well. And you have come to think that you can do +anything you like. But that is not so any longer. I am mistress +here, and I mean to maintain my position. Any hint of rebellion +from you or anyone else I shall punish with the utmost severity. +So now you understand." + +"I do indeed," said Sylvia. + +She had not stirred from her chair, but sat watching her +step-mother's agitated pacing with grim attention. It was her +first acquaintance with the most violent temper she had ever +encountered in a woman, and it interested her. She was no longer +conscious of being angry herself. The whole affair had become a +sort of bitter comedy. She looked upon it with a species of +impersonal scorn. + +Mrs. Ingleton was obviously lashing herself to fury. She could not +imagine why, not realizing at that stage that she was the victim of +a jealousy so fierce as to amount almost to a mania. She wondered +if her father were watching them from the terrace, and contemplated +getting up to join him, but hesitated to do so, reflecting that it +might appear like flight. At the same time she did not see why she +should remain as a target for her step-mother's invective, and she +had just decided upon departure when Bliss, the butler, opened the +door with his own peculiarly quiet flourish and announced, "Captain +Preston!" + +A clean-shaven little man, with a horsey appearance about the legs +which evening-dress wholly failed to conceal, entered, and +instinctively Sylvia rose to receive him. + +Mrs. Ingleton stopped short and stared as they met in the middle of +the room. + +"Hullo, Sylvia!" said the little man, and stamped forward as if he +had just dismounted after a long ride. He had a loud voice and an +assertive manner, and Mrs. Ingleton gazed at him in frozen surprise. + +Sylvia turned towards her. "May I introduce Mr. Preston--the +M.F.H.?" Her tone was cold. If the newcomer's advent had been a +welcome diversion it obviously gave her no pleasure. + +Preston, however, plainly did not stand in need of any +encouragement. He strode up to Mrs. Ingleton, confronting her with +aggressive self-assurance, "Delighted to meet you, madam. You are +Sylvia's step-mother, I presume? I hope we shall be more nearly +connected before long. Anyone belongin' to Sylvia has my highest +esteem. She has the straightest seat on a horse of any woman I +know. Ingleton and I between us taught her all she knows about +huntin', and she does us credit, by gad!" + +He winked at Mrs. Ingleton as he ended, and Sylvia bit her lip. +Mrs. Ingleton, however, held out her hand. + +"Pray sit down, Mr. Preston! You are most welcome. Sylvia, my +dear, will you find the cigarettes?" + +Sylvia took a box from the table and handed it to him. He took it +from her, openly pinching her fingers as he did so, and offered it +to her instead. + +"After you, Cherry-ripe! You're lookin' spiffin' to-night, hey, +Mrs. Ingleton? What do you think of your new daughter?" + +Mrs. Ingleton was smiling. "I am only wondering what all you young +men can be about," she said. "I should have thought one of you +would have captured her long ago." + +Sylvia turned round, disgust in every line, and walked to the +window. "I will find Dad," she said. + +Preston looked after her, standing with legs wide apart on the +hearth-rug. "It's none of my fault, I assure you," he said. "I've +been tryin' to rope her for the last two years. But she's so damn' +shy. Can't get near her, by George." + +"Really?" smiled Mrs. Ingleton. "Perhaps you have not gone quite +the right way to work. I think I shall have to take a hand in the +game and see what I can do." + +Preston bowed with his hand on his heart, "I always like to get the +fair sex on my side whenever possible. If you can put the halter +on her, you've only to name your price, madam, and it's yours." + +"Dear me!" said Mrs. Ingleton. "You're very generous." + +"I can afford to be," declared Preston. "She's a decent bit of +goods--the only one I've ever wanted and couldn't get. If you can +get the whip-hand of her and drive her my way--well, it'll be +pretty good business for all concerned. You like diamonds, hey, +madam?" + +"Very much," laughed Mrs. Ingleton coquettishly. "But you mustn't +make my husband jealous. Remember that now!" + +Preston closed one eye deliberately and poked his tongue into his +cheek. "You leave that to me, my good madam. Anythin' of that +sort would be the gift of the bridegroom. See?" + +"Oh, quite," said Mrs. Ingleton. "I shall certainly do my best for +you, Mr. Preston." + +"Good for you!" said Preston jocularly. "It's a deal then. And +you play every trump you've got!" + +"You may depend upon me," said Mrs. Ingleton. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE WHIP-HAND + +"Why isn't Mr. Preston engaged to Sylvia?" demanded Mrs. Ingleton +of her husband as she faced him across the breakfast-table on the +following morning. + +"He'd like to be," said Ingleton with his face bent over the +morning paper. + +"Then why isn't he?" demanded Mrs. Ingleton with asperity. "He is +a rich country gentleman, and he has a position in the County. +What more could you possibly want for her?" + +Reluctantly the squire made answer. "Oh, I'm willing enough. He's +quite a decent chap so far as I know. I dare say he'd make her +quite a good husband if she'd have him. But she won't. So there's +an end of that." + +"Ridiculous!" exclaimed Mrs. Ingleton. "And, pray, why won't she?" + +"Why? Oh, because there's another fellow, of course. There always +is," growled Ingleton. "Girls never fall in love with the right +man. Haven't you found that out yet?" + +"I have found out," said Mrs. Ingleton tartly, "that Sylvia is a +most wilful and perverse girl, and I think you are very unwise to +put up with her whims. I should be ashamed to have a girl of that +age still on my hands." + +"I'd like to know how you'd have managed her any differently," +muttered the squire, without looking up. + +Mrs. Ingleton laughed unpleasantly. "You don't know much about +women, do you, my dear? Of course I could have managed her +differently. She'd have been comfortably married for the past two +years at least if I had been in command." + +Ingleton looked sourly incredulous. "You don't know Sylvia," he +observed. "She has a will like cast-iron. You'd never move her." + +Mrs. Ingleton tossed her head. "Never? Well, look here! If you +want the girl to marry that really charming Mr. Preston, I'll +undertake that she shall--and that within a year. How is that?" + +Ingleton stared a little, then slowly shook his head. "You'll +never do it, my dear Caroline." + +"I will do it if it is your wish," said Mrs. Ingleton firmly. + +He looked at her with a touch of uneasiness. "I don't want the +child coerced." + +She laughed again. "What an idea! Are children ever coerced in +these days? It's usually the parents who have to put up with that +sort of treatment. Now tell me about the other man. What and +where is he?" + +Ingleton told her with surly reluctance. "Oh, he was a handsome +young beggar she met five years ago--the son of my then bailiff, as +a matter of fact. The boy had had a fairly decent education; he +was a gentleman, but he wasn't good enough for my Sylvia, had no +prospects of any sort. And so I put my foot down." + +Mrs. Ingleton smiled with her thin, hard lips, but no gleam of +humour reached her eyes. "With the result, I suppose, that she has +been carrying on with him ever since." + +Ingleton stirred uneasily in his chair. "Well, she hasn't given +him up. They correspond, I believe. But he is far enough away at +present. He is in South Africa. She'll never marry him with my +approval. I'm pretty certain now that the fellow is a rotter." + +"She probably deems herself very heroic for sticking to him in +spite of opposition," observed Mrs. Ingleton. + +"Very likely," he conceded. "But I think she genuinely cares for +him. That's just the mischief of it. And, unfortunately, in +another couple of years she'll be in a position to please herself. +She inherits a little money from her mother then." + +Mrs. Ingleton's smile became more pronounced, revealing her strong +white teeth behind. "You need not look forward so far as that, my +love," she said. "Leave Sylvia entirely to me! I will undertake, +as I said, to have her married to Mr. Preston well within a year. +So you may set your mind at rest on that point." + +"He is certainly fond of her," said the squire. "And they both +have sporting tastes. He ought to have a very good chance with her +if only the other fellow could be wiped out." + +"Then leave her to me!" said Mrs. Ingleton, rising. "And mind, +dear"--she paused behind her husband's chair and placed large white +hands upon his shoulders--"whatever I do, you are not to interfere. +Is that a bargain?" + +Ingleton moved again uncomfortably. "You won't be unkind to the +child?" he said. + +"My dear Gilbert, don't you realize that the young lady is more +than capable of holding her own against me or anyone else?" +protested Mrs. Ingleton. + +"And yet you say you can manage her?" he said. + +"Well, so I can, if you will only trust to my discretion. What she +needs is a little judicious treatment, and that is what I intend to +give her. Come, that is understood, isn't it? It is perfectly +outrageous that she should have ridden roughshod over you so long. +A chit like that! And think how pleasant it will be for everyone +when she is settled and provided for. Dear me! I shall feel as if +a great weight has been lifted from my shoulders. We shall really +enjoy ourselves then." + +She smiled down into her husband's dubious face, and after a moment +with a curt sigh he pulled her down and kissed her. "Well, you're +a woman, you ought to know how to manage your own kind," he said. +"Sylvia's mother was an invalid for so long that I expect the child +did grow a bit out of hand. I'll leave her to you then, Caroline. +If you can manage to marry her to Preston I believe you'll do her +the biggest service possible." + +"Of course I should like to do that!" said Mrs. Ingleton, kissing +him loudly. "Ah! Here she comes! She mustn't catch us +love-making at this hour. Good morning, my dear child! What roses +to be sure! No need to ask where you have been." + +Sylvia came in, riding-whip in hand. Her face was flushed and her +eyes shining. + +"Had a ripping run, Dad. You ought to have been there," she said. +"Good morning!" She paused and kissed him, then turned to her +step-mother. "Good morning, Madam! I hope the keys have been duly +handed over. I told Mrs. Hadlow to see to it." + +Mrs. Ingleton kissed her effusively. "You poor child! I am afraid +it is a very sore point with you to part with your authority to me. +The only thing for you to do is to be quick and get a home of your +own." + +Sylvia laughed. "Breakfast is my most pressing need at the present +moment. Winnie carried me beautifully, Dad. George says she is a +positive marvel for her years; dear little soul." + +"George--George!" repeated Mrs. Ingleton with playful surprise. "I +presume that is the estimable young man who called upon me last +night. Well, well, if you are so intimate, I suppose I shall have +to be too. He was in a great hurry to pay his respects, was he +not?" + +Sylvia was staring at her from the other side of the table. "I +meant George the groom," she said coldly after a moment. "Is there +any news, Dad?" + +She turned deliberately to him, but before he could speak in answer +Mrs. Ingleton intervened. + +"Now, Sylvia, my love, I have something really rather serious to +say to you. Of course, I fully realize that you are very young and +inexperienced and not likely to think of these things for yourself. +But I must tell you that it is very bad for the servants to have +meals going in the dining-room at all hours. Therefore, my child, +I must ask you to make a point of being punctual--always. +Breakfast is at eight-thirty. Please bear that in mind for the +future!" + +Again Sylvia's wide eyes were upon her. They looked her straight +in the face. "Dad and I are never back by eight-thirty when we go +cubbing, are we, Dad?" she said. + +The squire cleared his throat, and did not respond. + +Mrs. Ingleton smiled. "But we are changing all that," she said. +"At my particular request your dear father has promised me to give +up hunting." + +"What?" said Sylvia, and turned upon her father with a red flash in +her eyes. "Dad, is that true?" + +He looked at her unwillingly. "Oh, don't make a scene!" he said +irritably. "Your mother is nervous, so I have given it up for the +present, that's all." + +"Please don't call Mrs. Ingleton my mother!" said Sylvia, suddenly +deadly calm. "Am I always to hunt alone, then, for the future?" + +"You have got--George," smiled Mrs. Ingleton. + +Sylvia's eyes fell abruptly from her father's face, but they did +not return to her step-mother. She turned away to the sideboard, +and helped herself from a dish that stood there. In absolute +silence she sat down at the table and began to eat. + +Her father sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment or two, then +got up with a non-committal, "Well!" gathered up his letters, and +tramped from the room. + +Mrs. Ingleton took up the paper and perused it, humming. Sylvia +ate her breakfast in dead silence. + +She rose finally to pour herself out some coffee, and at the +movement her step-mother looked up. There was a glitter in her +hard grey eyes that somewhat belied the smile she sought to assume. +"Now, my dear," she said, in the tone of one lecturing a refractory +child, "you were a very wilful and impertinent girl last night. I +told you I should punish you, and I have kept my word. I do not +advise you to aggravate the offence by sulking." + +"Will you tell me what you mean?" said Sylvia, standing stiff and +straight before her. + +Mrs. Ingleton slightly shrugged her shoulders. "You are behaving +like a child of six, and really, if you go on, you will provoke me +into treating you as such. The attitude you have chosen to adopt +is neither sensible nor dignified, let me tell you. You resent my +presence here. Very well; but you cannot prevent it. Would it not +be much wiser of you either to submit to my authority or----" + +"Or?" repeated Sylvia icily. + +"Or take the obvious course of providing yourself with a home +elsewhere," said Mrs. Ingleton. + +Sylvia put up a quick hand to her throat. She was breathing very +quickly. "You wish to force me to marry that horrible Preston +man?" she said. + +"By no means, my dear," smiled Mrs. Ingleton. "But you might do a +good deal worse. I tell you frankly, you will be very much +underdog as long as you elect to remain in this establishment. Oh +yes!" She suddenly rose to her full majestic height, dwarfing the +girl before her with conscious triumph. "I may have some trouble +with you, but conquer you I will. Your father will not interfere +between us. You have seen that for yourself. In fact, he has just +told me that he leaves the management of you entirely to me. He +has given me an absolutely free hand--very wisely. If I choose to +lock you in your room for the rest of the day he will not +interfere. And as I am quite capable of doing so, I warn you to be +very careful." + +Sylvia stood as if turned to stone. She was white to the lips, but +she confronted her step-mother wholly without fear. + +"Do you really think I would submit to that?" she said. "I am not +a child, I assure you, whatever I may appear to you. You will +certainly never manage me by that sort of means." + +Her clear, emphatic voice fell without agitation. Now that the +first shock of the encounter was past she had herself quite firmly +in hand. + +But Mrs. Ingleton took her up swiftly, realizing possibly that a +moment's delay would mean the yielding of the ground she had so +arrogantly claimed. + +"I shall manage you exactly as I choose," she said, raising her +voice with abrupt violence. "I know very well your position in +this house. You are absolutely dependent, and--unless you +marry--you will remain so, being quite unqualified to earn your own +living. Therefore the whip-hand is mine, and if I find you +insolent or intractable I shall use it without mercy. How dare you +set yourself against me in this way?" She stamped with sudden fury +upon the ground. "No, not a word! Leave the room instantly--I will +have no more of it! Do you hear me, Sylvia? Do you hear me?" + +She raised a menacing hand, but the fearless eyes never flinched. + +"I think you must be mad," Sylvia said. + +"Mad!" raved Mrs. Ingleton. "Mad because I refuse to be dictated +to by an impertinent girl? Mad because I insist upon being +mistress in my own house? You--you little viper--how dare you +stand there defying me? Do you want to be turned out into the +street?" + +She had worked herself up into unreasoning rage again. Sylvia saw +that further argument would be worse than useless. Very quietly, +without another word, she turned, gathered up riding-whip and +gloves, and went from the room. She heard Mrs. Ingleton utter a +fierce, malignant laugh as she went. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE VICTOR + +The commencement of the fox-hunting season was always celebrated by +a dance at the Town Hall--a dance which Sylvia had never failed to +attend during the five years that she had been in society and had +been a member of the Hunt. + +It was at her first Hunt Ball, on the occasion of her _debut_, that +she had met young Guy Ranger, and she looked back to that ball with +all its tender reminiscences as the beginning of all things. + +How superlatively happy she had been that night! Not for anything +that life could offer would she have parted with that one precious +romance of her girlhood. She clung to the memory of it as to a +priceless possession. And year after year she had gone to the Hunt +Ball with that memory close in her heart. + +It was at the last of these that George Preston had asked her to be +his wife. She had made every effort to avoid him, but he had +mercilessly tracked her down; and though she had refused him with +great emphasis she had never really felt that he had taken her +seriously. He was always seeking her out, always making excuses to +be alone with her. It was growing increasingly difficult to evade +him. She had never liked the man, but Fate or his own contrivance +was continually throwing him in her way. If she hunted, he +invariably rode home with her. If she remained away, he invariably +came upon her somehow, and wanted to know wherefore. + +She strongly suspected that her step-mother was in league with him, +though she had no direct proof of this. Preston was being +constantly asked to the house, and whenever they went out to dine +they almost invariably met him. She had begun to have a feeling +that people eyed them covertly, with significant glances, that they +were thrown together by design. Wherever they met, he always fell +to her lot as dinner-partner, and he had begun to affect an +attitude of proprietorship towards her which was yet too indefinite +for her actively to resent, + +She felt as if a net were closing around her from which, despite +her utmost effort, she was powerless to escape. Also, for weeks +now she had received no letter from Guy, and that fact disheartened +her more than any other. She had never before had to wait so long +for word from him. Very brief, often unsatisfying, as his letters +had been, at least they had never failed to arrive. And she +counted upon them so. Without them, she felt bereft of her +mainstay. Without them, the almost daily, nerve-shattering scenes +which her step-mother somehow managed to enact, however discreet +her attitude, became an infliction hardly to be borne. She might +have left her home for a visit among friends, but something held +her back from this. Something warned her that if she went her +place would be instantly filled up, and she would never return. +And very bitterly she realized the fact that for the next two years +she was dependent. She had not been trained to earn her own +living, and she lacked the means to obtain a training. Her father, +she knew, would not hear of such a thing, nor would he relinquish +the only means he possessed of controlling her actions. She +believed that privately he did not wish to part with her, though +her presence was a very obvious drawback to his comfort. He never +took her part, but also he never threw his weight into the balance +against her. He merely, with considerable surliness, looked on. + +And so the cruel struggle went on till it seemed to Sylvia that her +physical strength was ultimately beginning to fail. She came to +dread her step-mother's presence with a feeling akin to nausea, to +shrink in every nerve from the constant ordeals so ruthlessly +thrust upon her, + +So far she had never faltered or shown any sign of weakness under +the long-drawn-out persecution, but she was becoming aware that, +strive as she might, her endurance had its limits. She was but +human, and she was intensely sensitive to unkindness. Her nerves +were beginning to give way under the strain. There were even times +when she felt a breakdown to be inevitable, and only the thought of +her step-mother's triumph warded it off. Once down, and she knew +she would be a slave, broken beyond redemption to the most pitiless +tyranny. And so, though her strength was worn threadbare through +perpetual strain, she clung to it still. If only--oh, if only--Guy +would write! If he should be ill--if he should fail her--she felt +that it would be the end of everything. For nothing else mattered. + +She did not greatly wish to go to the Hunt Ball that year. She +felt utterly out of tune with all gaiety. But she could think of +no decent excuse for remaining away. And she was still buoying +herself up with the thought that Guy's silence could not last much +longer. She was bound to hear from him soon. + +She went to the Ball, therefore, feeling tired and dispirited, and +looking quite _passee_, as her step-mother several times assured +her. + +She had endured a long harangue upon jealousy that evening, which +vice Mrs. Ingleton declared she was allowing to embitter her whole +life, and she was weary to death of the subject and the penetrating +voice that had discoursed upon it. Once or twice she had been +stung into some biting rejoinder, but for the most part she had +borne the lecture in silence. After all, what did it matter? What +did it matter? + +They reached the Town Hall and went up the carpeted steps. +Preston, in hunting pink, received them. He captured Sylvia's hand +and pressed it tight against his heart. + +She stared at him with wide unsmiling eyes. "Seen the local rag?" +he asked, as he grinned amorously into them. "There's something to +interest you in it. Our local prophet has been at work." + +She did not know what he meant, or feel sufficiently interested to +inquire. She pulled her hand free, and passed on. His familiarity +became more marked and more insufferable every time she encountered +him. But still she asked herself again, what did it matter? + +He laughed and let her go. + +In the cloak-room people looked at her oddly, but beyond ordinary +greetings no one spoke to her. She did not know that it was solely +her utter wretchedness that kept them at a distance. + +She entered the ballroom behind Mrs. Ingleton, and at once Preston +descended upon her again. He had scrawled his name against half a +dozen dances on her card before she realized what he was doing. +She began to protest, but again that deadly feeling of apathy +overcame her. She was worn out--worn out. What did it matter +whether she danced with the man or not? + +Young Vernon Eversley, a friendly boy whom she had always liked, +pursed his lips when he saw her programme. + +"It's true then, is it?" he said. + +"What is true?" She looked at him questioningly, not feeling +greatly interested in his answer. + +He met her look with straight, honest eyes. "I saw the +announcement of your engagement in the paper this morning; but +somehow I didn't believe it. He's a dashed lucky man." + +That startled her out of her lethargy. She began a quick +disclaimer, but they were interrupted. One of the stewards came up +and swept young Eversley away. + +The next moment Preston came and took possession of her. He was +laughing still as he whirled her in among the dancers, refusing to +give her any breathing-space. + +"I want to see a little colour in those cheeks of yours, +Cherry-ripe," he said. "What's the Ingleton dragon been doin' to +you, my pretty?" + +She danced with him with a feeling that the net was drawn close +about her, and she was powerless to struggle any longer. When he +suffered her to stand at last, her head was whirling so that she +had to cling to him for support. + +He led her to a secluded corner and put her into a chair. Then he +bent over her and spoke into her ear. "Look here! I'm not such a +bad sort. They've coupled our names together in the local rag. +Why not let 'em?" + +She looked up at him, summoning her strength with a great effort. +"So it was your doing!" she said. + +"No, it wasn't!" he declared. "I swear it wasn't! I'm not such a +fool as that. But see here, Sylvia! Where's the use of holdin' +out any longer? You know I want you, and there's no sense in goin' +on pinin' for a fellow in South Africa who's probably married a +dozen blacks already. It isn't like you to cry for the moon. Put +up with me instead! You might do worse, and anyone can see you're +havin' a dog's time at the Manor now. You'll be your own boss +anyway if you come to me." + +She heard him with her eyes fixed before her. Her brief energy had +gone. Her life seemed to stretch before her in a long, dreary +waste. His arguments were unanswerable. Physical weariness, +combined with the despair which till then she had refused to +acknowledge, overwhelmed her. She was down. + +He put his hand upon her. "Come, I say! Is it a bargain? I swear +I won't bully you. I'm awfully fond of you, Cherry-ripe." + +She raised herself slowly. It was her last effort. "One thing +first," she said, and put his hand away from her. "I must--cable +to Guy, and get an answer." + +"Oh, rot!" he said. "What for?" + +"Because I haven't heard from him lately, and I must know--I must +know"--she spoke with rising agitation--"the reason why. He might +be--I don't say it is likely, but he might be--on his way home to +me. I can't--I can't give him up without knowing." + +Preston grimaced wryly, but he was shrewd enough to grasp and hold +such advantage as was his. "Well, failing him, you'll have me, +what? That's a promise, is it?" + +She looked at him again. "If you want me under those conditions." + +He put his arms about her. "Of course I want you, Cherry-ripe! +We'd be awfully happy together, you and I. I'll soon make you +forget him, if that's all. You can't be very deeply in love with +the fellow after all this time. I don't suppose he's in the least +the sort of person you take him for. You're wastin' your time over +a myth. Come, it's settled, isn't it? We're engaged." + +He pressed her closer. He bent to kiss her, but she turned her +face away. His lips only found her neck, but he made the most of +that. She had to exert her strength to free herself. + +"No," she said. "We're not engaged. We can't be engaged--until I +have heard from Guy." + +He suppressed a short word of impatience. "And suppose you don't +hear?" he asked. + +She made a blind movement with her hands. "Then---I give in." + +"You will marry me?" he insisted. + +"If you like," she answered drearily. "I expect you will very soon +get tired of me." + +"There's a remedy for everything," he answered jauntily. "But we +needn't consider that. I'm just mad to get you, you poor little +icicle. I'll warm you up, never fear. When you've been married to +me a week, you won't know yourself." She shivered and was silent. + +He turned in his tracks, perceiving he was making no headway. +"Then we're engaged provisionally anyway," he insisted. "There's +no need to contradict the general impression--unless we're obliged. +We'll behave like lovers--till further notice." + +She got to her feet. Her knees were trembling. The net was close +at last. She seemed to feel it pressing on her throat. "You are +not--to kiss me," she managed to say. + +He frowned at the condition, but he conceded it. The game was so +nearly his that he could afford to be generous. Besides, he would +exact payment in full later for any little concessions she wrung +from him now. + +"I'm bein' awfully patient," he said pathetically. "I hope you'll +take that into account. You really might just as well give in +first as last." + +But Sylvia had given in, and she knew it. Nothing but a miracle +could save her now. The only loophole she had for herself was one +which she realized already was highly unlikely to serve her. She +had been practically forced into submission, and she did not +attempt to disguise the fact from herself. + +Yet if only Guy had not failed her, she knew that no power on earth +would have sufficed to move her, no clamour of battle could ever +have made her quail. That had been the chink in her armour, and +through that she had been pierced again and again, till she was +vanquished at last. + +She felt too weary now, too utterly overwhelmed by circumstances, +to care what happened. Yes, she would cable to Guy as she had +said. But her confidence was gone. She was convinced already that +no word would come back in answer out of the void that had +swallowed him, + +She went through the evening as one in a dream. People offered her +laughing congratulations, and she never knew how she received them. +She seemed to be groping her way through an all-enveloping mist of +despair. + +One episode only stood out clearly from all the rest, and that was +when all were assembled at supper and out of the gay hubbub she +caught the sound of her own name. Then for a few intolerable +moments she became vividly alive to that which was passing around +her. She knew that George Preston's arm encircled her, and that +everyone present had risen to drink to their happiness. + +As soon as it was over she crept away like a wounded thing and hid +herself. Only a miracle could save her now. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE MIRACLE + +"Well, my dear," said Mrs. Ingleton, rising to kiss her +step-daughter on the following morning, "I consider you are a +very--lucky--girl." + +Sylvia received the kiss and passed on without reply. She was very +pale, but the awful inertia of the previous night had left her. +She was in full command of herself. She took up some letters from +a side table, and sat down with them. + +Her step-mother eyed her for a moment or two in silence. Then: +"Well, my dear?" she said. "Have you nothing to say for yourself?" + +"Nothing particular," said Sylvia. + +The letters were chiefly letters of congratulation. She read them +with that composure which Mrs. Ingleton most detested, and put them +aside. + +"Am I to have no share in the general rejoicing?" she asked at +length, in a voice that trembled with indignation. + +Sylvia recognized the tremor. It had been the prelude to many a +storm. She got up and turned to the window. "You can read them +all if you like," she said. "I see Dad on the terrace. I am just +going to speak to him." + +She passed out swiftly with the words before her step-mother's +gathering wrath could descend upon her. One of Mrs. Ingleton's +main grievances was that it was so difficult to corner Sylvia when +she wanted to give free vent to her violence. + +She watched the girl's slim figure pass out into the pale November +sunshine, and her frown turned to a very bitter smile. + +"Ah, my girl, you wait a bit!" she murmured. "You've met your +match, or I'm much mistaken." + +The squire was smoking his morning pipe in a sheltered corner. He +looked round with his usual half-surly expression as his daughter +joined him. + +She came to him very quietly and put her hand on his arm. + +"Well?" he said gruffly. + +She stood for a moment or two in silence, then: + +"Dad," she said very quietly, "I am going to cable to Guy. I +haven't heard from him lately. I must know the reason why +before--before----" A quiver of agitation sounded in her voice and +she stopped. + +"If you've made up your mind to marry Preston, I don't see why you +want to do that," said the squire curtly. + +"I am going to do it," she answered steadily. "I only wish I had +done it sooner." + +Ingleton burrowed into his paper. "All right," he growled. + +Sylvia stood for a few seconds longer, but he did not look up at +her, and at length, with a sharp sigh, she turned and left him. + +She did not return to her step-mother, however. She went to her +room to write her message. + +A little later she passed down the garden on her way to the +village. A great restlessness was upon her, and she thought the +walk to the post-office would do her good. + +She came upon Jeffcott in one of the shrubberies, and he stopped +her with the freedom of an old servant. + +"Beggin' your pardon, missie, but you'll let me wish you joy?" he +said. "I heard the good news this morning." + +She stood still. His friendly look went straight to her heart, +stirring in her an urgent need for sympathy. + +"Oh, Jeffcott," she said, "I'd never have given in if Mr. Ranger +hadn't stopped writing." + +"Lor!" said Jeffcott. "Did he now?" He frowned for an instant. +"But---didn't you have a letter from him last week?" he questioned. +"Friday morning it were. I see Evans, the postman, and he said as +there were a South African letter for you. Weren't that from Mr. +Ranger, missie?" + +"What?" said Sylvia sharply. + +"Last Friday it were," the old man repeated firmly. "Why, I see +the letter in his hand top of the pile when he stopped in the drive +to speak to me. We both of us passed a remark on it." + +Sylvia was staring at him. "Jeffcott, are you sure?" she said. + +"Sure as I stand here, Miss Sylvia," he returned. "I couldn't have +made no mistake. Didn't you have it then, missie? I'll swear to +heaven it were there." + +"No," Sylvia said. "I didn't have it." She paused a moment; then +very slowly, "The last letter I had from Guy Ranger," she said, +"was more than six weeks ago--the day that the squire brought Madam +to the Manor." + +"Lor!" ejaculated old Jeffcott again. "But wherever could they +have got to, Miss Sylvia? Don't Bliss have the sortin' of the +letters?" + +"I--don't--know." Sylvia was gazing straight before her with that +in her face which frightened the old man. "Those letters have +been--kept back." + +She turned from him with the words, and suddenly she was running, +running swiftly up the path. + +Like a young animal released from bondage she darted out of his +sight, and Jeffcott returned to his hedge-trimming with pursed +lips. That last glimpse of Miss Sylvia's face had--to express it +in his own language--given him something of a turn. + +It had precisely the same effect upon Sylvia's step-mother a little +later, when the girl burst in upon her as she sat writing letters +in her boudoir. + +She looked round at her in amazement, but she had no time to ask +for an explanation, for Sylvia, white to the lips, with eyes of +flame, went straight to the attack. She was in such a whirlwind of +passion as had never before possessed her. + +She was panting, yet she spoke with absolute distinctness. "I have +just found out," she said, "how it is that I have had no letters +from Guy during the past six weeks. They have been--stolen." + +"Really, Sylvia!" said Mrs. Ingleton. She arose in wrath, but no +wrath had any effect upon Sylvia at that moment. She was girt for +battle--the deadliest battle she had ever known. + +"You took them!" she said, pointing an accusing finger full at her +step-mother. "You kept them back! Deny it as much as you like--as +much as you dare! None but you would have stooped to do such a +thing. And it has been done. The letters have been delivered--and +I have not received them. I have suffered--horribly--because of +it. You meant me to suffer!' + +"You are wrong, Sylvia! You are wrong!" Shrilly Mrs. Ingleton +broke in upon her, for there was something awful in the girl's +eyes--they had a red-hot look. "Whatever I have done has been for +your good always. Your father will testify to that. Go and ask +him if you don't believe me!" + +"My father had nothing to do with this!" said Sylvia in tones of +withering scorn. "Whatever else he lacks, he has a sense of +honour. But you--you are a wicked woman, unprincipled, cruel, +venomous. It may be my father's duty to live with you, but--thank +heaven--it is not mine. You have come into my home and cursed it. +I will never sleep under the same roof with you again." + +She turned with the words to leave the room, and found her father +and George Preston just coming out of the library on the other side +of the hall. Fearlessly she swung round and confronted them. The +utter freedom of her at that moment made her superb. The miracle +had happened. She had rent the net that entangled her to shreds. + +Mrs. Ingleton was beginning to clamour in the room behind her. She +turned swiftly and shut and locked the door. Then she faced the +two men with magnificent courage. + +"I have to tell you," she said, addressing them both impersonally, +"that my engagement to Guy Ranger is unbroken. I have just found +out that my step-mother has been suppressing his letters to me. +That, of course, alters everything. And--also of course--it makes +it impossible for me to stay here any longer. I am going to +him--at once." + +Her eyes went rapidly from her father's face to Preston's. It was +he who came forward and answered her. The squire seemed struck +dumb. + +"Egad!" he said. "I've never seen you look so rippin' in all my +life! That's how you look when you're angry, is it? Now I shall +know what to watch out for when we're married." + +She answered him with a quiver of scorn. "We never shall be +married, Mr. Preston. You may put that out of your mind for ever. +I am going to Guy by the next boat." + +"Not you!" laughed Preston. "You're in a paddy just now, my dear, +but when you've thought it over soberly you'll find there are a +good many little obstacles in the way of that. You haven't been +brought up to rough it for one. And Guy Ranger, as I think we +settled last night, has probably married half a dozen blacks +already. It's too great a risk, Cherry-ripe! And--if I know +you--you won't take it." + +"You don't know me," said Sylvia. She turned, from him and went to +her father. "Have you nothing to say," she asked, "about this vile +and hateful plot? But I suppose you can't. She is your wife. +However much you despise her, you have got to endure her. But I +have not. And so I am going--to-day!" + +Her voice rang clear and unfaltering. She looked him straight in +the eyes. He made a sharp movement, almost as if that full regard +pierced him. + +He spoke with manifest effort. "You won't go with my consent." + +"No?" said Sylvia. "Yet--you would never respect me again if I +stayed. I could never respect myself." She glanced over her +shoulder at the door which Mrs. Ingleton was violently shaking. +"You can let her out," she said contemptuously. "I have had my +turn. I leave her--in possession." She turned to go to the +stairs, then abruptly checked herself, stepped up to her father, +put her hands on his shoulders and kissed him. The anger had gone +out of her eyes. "Good-bye, Dad! Think of me sometimes!" she said. + +And with that she was gone, passing Preston by as though she saw +him not, and ascending the stairs quickly, but wholly without +agitation. They heard her firm, light tread along the corridor +above. Then with a hunch of the shoulders the squire turned and +unlocked the boudoir door. + +Mrs. Ingleton burst forth in a fury. "You cad to keep me boxed up +here with that little serpent pouring all sorts of poison into your +ears! Where is she? Where is she? I'll give her such a trouncing +as she's never had before!" + +But Ingleton stretched an arm in front of her, barring the way. +His face was grim and unyielding. "No, you won't!" he said. +"You'll leave her alone. She's my daughter--not yours. And you'll +not interfere with her any further." + +There was a finality in his tone. Mrs. Ingleton stopped short, +glaring at him. + +"You take her part, do you?" she demanded. + +"On this occasion--yes, I do," said the squire. + +"And what about me?" said Preston. + +Ingleton looked at him--still barring his wife's progress--with a +faint, sardonic smile. "Well, she seems to have given you the +boot, anyway. If I were in your place, I should--quit." + +"She'll repent it!" raved Mrs. Ingleton. "Oh, she will repent it +bitterly!" + +"Very likely," conceded Ingleton. "But she's kicked over the +traces now, and that fact won't pull her up--anyhow, at present," + +Mrs. Ingleton's look held fierce resentment. "Are you going to let +her go?" she said. + +He shrugged his shoulders. "Seeing I can't help myself, I suppose +I shall. There's no sense in making a fuss now. It's done, so you +leave her alone!" + +Mrs. Ingleton turned upon Preston. "You can bring an action for +breach of promise!" she said. "I'll support you." + +He made her an ironical bow. "You are more than kind," he said. +"But--I think I shall get on better for the future without your +support." + +And with the words he turned on his heel and went out. + +"Hateful person!" cried Mrs. Ingleton. "Gilbert, he has insulted +me! Go after him and kick him! Gilbert! How dare you?" + +Ingleton was quietly but firmly impelling her back into the +boudoir. "You go and sit down!" he said. "Sit down and be quiet! +There's been enough of this." + +It was the first time in her knowledge that he had ever asserted +himself. Mrs. Ingleton stared at him wildly for a second or two, +then, seeing that he was in earnest, subsided into a chair with a +burst of hysterical weeping, declaring that no one ever treated her +so brutally before. + +She expected to be soothed, comforted, propitiated, but no word of +solace came. Finally she looked round with an indignant dabbing of +her tears. How dare he treat her thus? Was he quite heartless? +She began to utter a stream of reproaches, but stopped short and +gasped in incredulous disgust. He had actually--he had +actually--gone, and left her to wear her emotion out in solitude. + +So overwhelming was the result of this piece of neglect, combined +with the failure of all her plans, that Mrs. Ingleton retired +forwith to bed, and remained there for the rest of the day. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE LAND OF STRANGERS + +It had been a day of intense and brooding heat. Black clouds hung +sullenly low in the sky, and a heavy gloom obscured the face of the +earth. On each side of the railway the _veldt_ stretched for +miles, vivid green, yet strangely desolate to unaccustomed eyes. +The moving train seemed the only sign of life in all that +wilderness. + +Sylvia leaned from the carriage window and gazed blankly forth. +She had hoped that Guy would meet her at Cape Town, but he had not +been there. She had come unwelcomed into this land of strangers. +But he would be at Ritzen. He had cabled a month before that he +would meet her there if he could not get to Cape Town. + +And now she was nearing Ritzen. Across the mysterious desolation +she discerned its many lights. It was a city in a plain, and the +far hills mounted guard around it, but she saw them only dimly in +the failing light. + +Ritzen was the nearest railway station to the farm on which Guy +worked. From here she would have to travel twenty miles across +country. But that would not be yet. Guy and she would be married +first. There would be a little breathing-space at Ritzen before +she went into that new life that awaited her beyond the hills. +Somehow she felt as if those hills guarded her destiny. She did +not fear the future, but she looked forward to it with a certain +awe. + +Paramount within her, was the desire for Guy, the sight of his +handsome, debonair countenance, the ring of his careless laugh. As +soon as she saw Guy she knew she would be at home, even in the land +of strangers, as she had never been at the Manor since the advent +of her father's second wife. She had no misgivings on that point, +or she had never come across the world to him thus, making all +return impossible. For there could be be no going back for her. +She had taken a definite and irrevocable step. There could be no +turning back upon this road that she had chosen. + +It might not be an easy road. She was prepared for obstacles. But +with Guy she was ready to face anything. The adversity through +which she had come had made the thought of physical hardship of +very small account. And deep in her innermost soul she had a +strong, belief in her own ultimate welfare. She was sure that she +had done the right thing in thus striking out for herself, and she +was equally sure that, whatever it might entail, she would not +regret it in the end. + +The lights were growing nearer. She discerned the brick building +of the station. Over the wide stretch of land that yet intervened +there came to her the smell of smoke and human habitation. A warm +thrill went through her. In two minutes now--in less--the long +five years' separation would be over, and she would be clasping +Guy's hand again. + +She leaned from the window, scanning the few outstanding houses of +the town as the train ran past. Then they were in the station, and +a glare of light received them. + +A crowd of unfamiliar faces swam before her eyes, and then--she saw +him. He stood on the platform awaiting her, distinct from all the +rest to her eager gaze--a man of medium height, broader than she +remembered, with a keen, bronzed face and eagle eyes that caught +and held her own. + +She sprang form the train almost before it shopped. She held out +both her hands to him. + +"Guy! Guy!" + +Her voice came sobbingly. He gripped the hands hard and close. + +"So you've got here!" he said. + +She was staring at him, her face upraised. What was there about +him that did not somehow tally with the Guy of her memory and her +dreams? He was older, of course; he was more mature, bigger in +every way. But she missed something. There was no kindling of +pleasure in his eyes. They looked upon her kindly. Ah, yes; but +the rapture--where was the rapture of greeting? + +A sense of coldness went through her. Her hands fell from his. He +had changed--he had changed indeed! His eyes were too keen. She +thought they held a calculating expression. And the South African +sun had tanned him almost bronze. His chin had a stubbly look. +The Guy she had known had been perfectly smooth of skin. + +She looked at him with a rather piteous attempt to laugh. "I +wonder I knew you at all," she said, "with that hideous embryo +beard. I'm sure you haven't shaved to-day." + +He put up a hand and felt his chin. "No, I shaved yesterday," he +said, and laughed. "I've been too busy to-day." + +That reassured her. The laugh at least was like Guy, brief though +it was. "Horrid boy!" she said. "Well, help me collect my things. +We'll talk afterwards." + +He helped her. He went into the carriage she had just left and +pulled out all her belongings. These he dumped on the platform and +told her to wait while he collected the rest. + +She stood obediently in the turmoil of Britons, Boers, and Kaffirs, +that surged around. She felt bewildered, strung up, unlike +herself. It was a land of strangers, indeed, and she felt forlorn +and rather frightened. Why had Guy looked at her so oddly? Why +had his welcome been so cold? Could it be--could it be--that he +was not pleased to see her, that--that--possibly he did not want +her? The dreadful chill went through her again like a sword +thrusting at her heart, and with it went old Jeffcott's warning +words: "Do you ever ask yourself what sort of man he may be after +five years? I'll warrant he's lived every minute of it. He's the +sort that would." + +She had felt no doubt then, nor ever since, until this moment. And +now--now it came upon her and overwhelmed her. She glanced about +her, almost as one seeking escape. + +"I've fixed everything up. Come along to the railway hotel! You +must be pretty tired." He had returned to her, and he stood looking +at her with those strangely keen eyes, almost as if he had never +seen her before, she thought to herself desolately. + +She looked bade at him with unconscious appeal in her own. "I am +tired," she said, and was aware of a sudden difficulty in speaking. +"Is it far?" + +"No," he said; "only a step." + +He gathered up her hand-baggage and led the way, making a path for +her through the throng. + +She scarcely noticed where she went, so completely did he fill her +mind. He had changed enormously, developed in a fashion that she +had never deemed possible. He walked with a free swing, and +carried himself as one who counted. He had the look of one +accustomed to command. She seemed to read prosperity in every +line. But was he prosperous? If so, why had he not sent for her +long ago? + +They reached the hotel. He led the way without pause straight to a +small private room where a table had been prepared for a meal. + +"Sit down!" he said. "Take off your things! You must be starved." + +He rang the bell and gave an order while she mutely obeyed. All +her confidence was gone. She had begun to tremble. The wonder +crossed her mind if perhaps she, too, had altered, grown beyond all +his previous conception of her. Possibly she was as much a +stranger to him as he to her. Was that why he had looked at her +with that oddly critical expression? Was that why he did not now +take her in his arms? + +Impulsively she took off her hat and turned round to him. + +He was looking at her still, and again that awful sense of doubt +mastered and possessed her. A great barrier seemed to have sprung +up between them. He was formidable, actually formidable. The Guy +of old days, impetuous, hot-tempered even, had never been that. + +She stood before him, controlling her rising agitation with a great +effort. "Why do you look at me like that?" she said. "I feel--you +make me feel--as if--you are a total stranger!" + +His face changed a little, but still she could not read his look. +"Sit down!" he said. "We must have a talk." + +She put out her hand to him. The aloofness of his speech cut her +with an anguish intolerable. "What has happened?" she said. +"Quick! Tell me! Don't you want to--marry me?" + +He took her hand. She saw that in some fashion he was moved, +though still she could not understand. "I'm trying to tell you," +he said; "but--to be honest--you've hit me in the wind, and I don't +know how. I think you have forgotten in all these years what Guy +was like." + +She gazed at him blankly. Again Jeffcott's words were running in +her mind. And something--something hidden behind them--arose up +like a menace and terrified her. + +"I haven't forgotten," she whispered voicelessly. "I couldn't +forget. But go on! Don't--don't mind telling me!" + +She was white to the lips. All the blood in her body seemed +concentrated at her heart. It was beating in heavy, sickening +throbs like the labouring of some clogged machinery. + +He put his free hand on her shoulder with an abrupt movement that +made him for the moment oddly familiar. "It's a damned shame," he +said, and though his voice was low he spoke with feeling. "Look +here, child! This is no fault of mine. I never thought you could +make this mistake, never dreamed of such a possibility. I'm not +Guy at all. I am Burke Ranger--his cousin. And let me tell you at +once, we are not much alike now--whatever we have been in the past. +Here, don't faint! Sit down!" + +He shifted his hand from her shoulder to her elbow, and supported +her to a chair. But she remained upon her feet, her white face +upraised, gazing at him--gazing at him. + +"Not Guy! Not Guy!" She said it over and over as if to convince +herself. Then: "But where is Guy?" She clutched at his arm +desperately, for all her world was shaking. "Are you going to tell +me he is--dead?" + +"No." Burke Ranger spoke with steady eyes looking straight into +hers. "He is not." + +"Then why--then why--" She could get no further. She stopped, +gasping. His face swam blurred before her quivering vision,--Guy's +face, yet with an inexplicable something in it that was not Guy. + +"Sit down!" he said again, and put her with quiet insistence into +the chair. "Wait till you have had something to eat! Then we'll +have a talk and decide what had better be done." + +She was shivering from head to foot, but she faced him still. "I +can't eat," she said through white lips. "I can't do anything +till--till I know--all there is to know." + +He stood looking down at her. The fingers of his right hand were +working a little, but his face was perfectly calm, even grim. + +As he did not speak immediately, she went on with piteous effort. +"You must forgive me for making that stupid mistake. I see +now--you are not Guy, though there is a strong likeness. You see, +I have not seen Guy for five years, and I--I was allowing for +certain changes." + +"He is changed," said Burke Ranger. + +That nameless terror crept closer about her heart. Her eyes met +his imploringly. + +"Really I am quite strong," she said. "Won't you tell me what is +wrong? He--cabled to me to come to him. It was in answer to my +cable." + +"Yes, I know," said Ranger. + +He turned from her abruptly and walked to the window. The darkness +had drawn close. It hung like a black curtain beyond the pane. +The only light in the room was a lamp that burned on a side table. +It illumined him but dimly, and again it seemed to the girl who +watched him that this could be no other than the Guy of her +dreams--the Guy she had loved so faithfully, for whose sake she had +waited so patiently for so many weary years. Surely it was he who +had made the mistake! Surely even yet he would turn and gather her +to his heart, and laugh at her folly for being so easily deluded! + +Ah! He had turned. He stood looking at her across the +dimly-lighted space. Her very heart stood still to hear his voice. + +He spoke. "The best thing you can do is to go back to the place +you came from--and marry someone else." + +The words went through her. They seemed to tear and lacerate her. +As in a nightmare vision she saw the bitterness that lay behind +her, the utter emptiness before. She still stared full at him, but +she saw him not. Her terror had taken awful shape before her, and +all her courage was gone. She cowered before it. + +"I can't--I can't!" she said, and even to herself her voice sounded +weak and broken, like the cry of a lost child. "I can't go back!" + +He came across the room to her, moving quickly, as if something +urged him. She did not know that she had flung out her hands in +wild despair until she felt him gather them together in his own. + +He bent over her, and she saw very clearly in his countenance that +which had made her realize that he was not Guy. "Look here!" he +said. "Have a meal and go to bed! We will talk it out in the +morning. You are worn out now." + +His voice held insistence. There was no softness in it. Had he +displayed kindness in that moment she would have burst into tears. +But he put her hands down again with a brief, repressive gesture, +and the impulse passed. She yielded him obedience, scarcely +knowing what she did. + +He brought her food and wine, and she ate and drank mechanically +while he watched her with his grey, piercing eyes, not speaking at +all. + +Finally she summoned strength to look up at him with a quivering +smile. "You are very kind. I am sorry to have given you so much +trouble." + +He made an abrupt movement that she fancied denoted impatience. +"Can't you eat any more?" he said. + +She shook her head, still bravely smiling. "I can't--really. I +think--I think perhaps you are right. I had better go to bed, and +you will tell me everything in the morning." + +"Finish the drink anyhow!" he said. + +She hesitated momentarily, but he pushed the glass firmly towards +her and she obeyed. + +She stood up then and faced him. "Will you please tell me one +thing--to--to set my mind at rest? Guy--Guy isn't ill?" + +He looked her straight in the face. "No." + +"You are sure?" she said. + +"Yes." He spoke with curt decision, yet oddly she wondered for a +fleeting second if he had told her the truth. + +His look seemed to challenge the doubt, to beat it down. Half +shyly, she held out her hand. + +"Good night," she said. + +His fingers grasped and released it. He turned with her to the +door. "I will show you your room" he said. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE WRONG TURNING + +Sylvia slept that night the heavy, unstirring sleep of utter +weariness though when she lay down she scarcely expected to sleep +at all. The shock, the bewilderment, the crushing dread, that had +attended her arrival after the long, long journey had completely +exhausted her mentally, and physically. She slept as a child +sleeps at the end of a strenuous day. + +When she awoke, the night was gone and all the world was awake and +moving. The clouds had all passed, and a brilliant morning sun +shone down upon the wide street below her window. She felt +refreshed though the heat was still great. The burden that had +overwhelmed her the night before did not seem so intolerable by +morning light. Her courage had come back to her. + +She dressed with a firm determination to carry a brave face +whatever lay before her. Things could not be quite so bad as they +had seemed the previous night. Guy could not really have changed +so fundamentally. Perhaps he only feared that she could not endure +poverty with him. If that were all, she would soon teach him +otherwise. All she wanted in life now was his love. + +She had almost convinced herself that this was practically all she +had to contend with, and the ogre of her fears was well in the +background, when she finally left her room and went with some +uncertainty through the unfamiliar passages. + +She found the entrance, but a crowd of curious Boers collected +about the door daunted her somewhat, and she was turning back from +their staring eyes when Burke Ranger suddenly strode through the +group and joined her. + +She gave him a quick, half-startled glance as they met, and the +first thing that struck her about him was the obvious fact that he +had shaved. His eyes intercepted hers, and she saw the flicker of +a smile pass across them and knew he had read her thought. + +She flushed as she held out her hand to him. "Good morning," she +said with a touch of shyness. "I hope you haven't been wasting +your time waiting for me." + +He took her hand and turned her towards the small room in which +they had talked together the previous night. "No, I haven't wasted +my time," he said. "I hope you have had a good rest?" + +"Oh, quite, thank you," she answered. "I slept like the dead. I +feel--fit for anything." + +"That's right," he said briefly. "We will have some breakfast +before we start business." + +"Oh, you have been waiting!" she exclaimed with compunction. "I'm +so sorry. I'm not generally so lazy." + +"Don't apologize!" he said. "You've done exactly what I hoped +you'd do. Sit down, won't you? Take the end of the table!" + +His manner was friendly though curt. Her embarrassment fell from +her as she complied. They sat, facing one another, and, the light +being upon him, she gave him a steady look. He was not nearly so +much like Guy as she had thought the previous night, though +undoubtedly there was a strong resemblance. On a closer inspection +she did not think him handsome, but the keen alertness of him +attracted her. He looked as if physical endurance were a quality +he had brought very near to perfection. He had the stamp of the +gladiator upon him. He had wrestled against odds. + +After a moment or two he turned his eyes unexpectedly to hers. It +was a somewhat disconcerting habit of his. + +"A satisfactory result, I hope?" he said. + +She did not look away. "I don't consider myself a good character +reader," she said. "But you are certainly not so much like Guy as +I thought at first sight." + +"Thank you," he said. "I must confess I prefer to be like myself." + +She laughed a little. "It was absurd of me to make such a mistake. +But yours was the only face that looked in the least familiar in +all that crowd. I was so glad to see it." + +"You have never been in this country before?" he asked. + +She shook her head. "Never. I feel a dreadful outsider at +present. But I shall soon learn.' + +"Do you ride?" he said. + +Her eyes kindled. "Yes. I was keen on hunting in England. That +will be a help, won't it?" + +"It would be," he said, "if you stayed." + +"I have come to stay," she said with assurance. + +"Wait a bit!" said Burke Ranger. + +His manner rather than his words checked her. She felt again that +cold dread pressing against her heart. She turned from the subject +as one seeking escape. + +She ate a good breakfast almost in spite of herself. Ranger +insisted upon it, and since he was evidently hungry himself it +seemed churlish not to keep him company. He told her a little +about the country, while they ate, but he strenuously avoided all +things personal, and she felt compelled to follow his lead. He +imposed a certain restraint upon her, and even when he rose from +the table at length with the air of a man about to face the +inevitable, she did not feel it to be wholly removed. + +She got up also and watched him fill his pipe with something of her +former embarrassment. She expected him to light it when he had +finished, but he did not. He put it in his pocket, and somewhat +abruptedly turned to her. + +"Now!" he said. + +She met his look with a brave face. She even smiled--a gallant, +little smile to which he made no response. "Well, now," she said, +"I want you to tell me the quickest way to get to Guy." + +He faced her squarely. "I've got to tell you something about him +first," he said. + +"Yes?" Her heart was beating very quickly, but she had herself well +in hand. "What is it?" + +But he stood mutely considering her. It was as if the power of +speech had suddenly gone from him. + +"What is it?" she said again. "Won't you tell me?" + +He made a curious gesture. It was almost a movement of flinching. +"You're so young," he said. + +"Oh, but I'm not--I'm not!" she assured him. "It's only my face. +I'm quite old really. I've been through a lot." + +"You've never seen life yet," he said. + +"I have!" she declared with an odd vehemence. "I've learnt lots of +things. Why--do you look like that? I'm not a child." + +Her voice quivered a little in spite of her. Why did he look like +that? The compassion in his eyes smote her with a strange pain. +Why--why was he sorry for her? + +He saw her rising agitation, and spoke, slowly, choosing his words. +"The fact is, Guy isn't what you take him for--isn't the right man +for you. Nothing on this earth can make him so now, whatever he +may have been once. He's taken the wrong turning, and there's no +getting back." + +She gazed at him with wide eyes. Her lips felt stiff and cold. +"What--what--do you mean, please?" she said. + +She saw his hands clench. "I don't want to tell you what I mean," +he said. "Haven't I said enough?" + +She shook her head slowly, with drawn brows. "No--no! I've got to +understand. Do you mean Guy doesn't want me after all? Didn't he +really mean me to come? He--sent a message." + +"I know. That's the infernal part of it." Burke Ranger spoke with +suppressed force. "He was blind drunk when he sent it." + +"Oh!" She put up her hands to her face for a moment as if to +shield herself from a blow. "He--drinks, does he?" + +"He does everything he ought not to do, except steal," said Ranger +bluntly. "I've tried to keep him straight--tried every way. I +can't. It isn't to be done." + +Sylvia's hands fell again. "Perhaps," she said slowly, "perhaps I +could." + +The man started as if he had been shot. "You!" he said. + +She met his look with her wide eyes. "But why not?" she said. "We +love each other." + +He turned from her, grinding the floor with his heel. "God help me +to make myself intelligible!" he said. + +It was the most forcible prayer she had ever heard. It struck +through to her very soul. She stood motionless, but she felt +crushed and numb. + +Ranger walked to the end of the room and then came straight back to +her. + +"Look here!" he said. "This is the most damnable thing I've ever +had to do. Let's get it over! He's a rotter and a blackguard. +Can you grasp that? He hasn't lived a clean life all these years +he's been away from you. He went wrong almost at the outset. He's +the sort that always does go wrong. I've done my best for him. +Anyhow, I've kept him going. But I can't make a decent man of him. +No one can. He has lucid intervals, but they get shorter and +shorter. Just at present--" he paused momentarily, then plunged +on--"I told you last night he wasn't ill. That was a lie. He is +down with delirium tremens, and it isn't the first time." + +"Ah!" Sylvia said. He had made her understand at last. She stood +for a space staring at him, then with a groping movement she found +and grasped the back of a chair. "Why--why did you lie to me?" she +said. + +"I did it for your sake," he answered briefly. "You couldn't have +faced it then." + +"I see," she said, and paused to collect herself. "And does +he--does he realize that I am here?" she asked painfully. "Doesn't +he--want to see me?" + +"Just now," said Ranger grimly, "he is too busy thinking about his +own troubles to worry about anyone else's. He does know you are +coming. He was raving about it two nights ago. Then came your +wire from Cape Town. That was what brought me here to meet you." + +"I see," she said again. "You--you have been very good. It would +have been dreadful if--if I had been stranded here alone." + +"I'd have stopped you at Cape Town if I could," he said. + +"No, you wouldn't have stopped me," she answered, with a drear +little smile. "I should have had to come on and see Guy in any +case. I shall have to see him now. Where is he?" + +Ranger stood close to her. He bent slightly, looking into her +eyes. "You have understood me?" he questioned. + +She looked straight back at him; it was no moment for shrinking +avoidance. "Yes," she said, + +"And you believe me?" he proceeded. + +Her red-brown eyes widened a little. "But of course I believe you." + +"And, still you want to see him?" said Burke Ranger. + +"I must see him," she answered quietly. "You must realize that. +You would do the same in my place." + +"If I did," said Ranger, dropping his voice, "it would be to tell +him to go to hell!" Then, as involuntarily she drew back: "No, I +shouldn't put it like that to you, I know. But what's the point of +your seeing him? It will only make things worse for you." + +"I must see him," she said firmly. "Please tell me where he is!" + +He looked at her for a moment or two in silence. "He is in his own +shanty on my farm," he said then. "Blue Hill Farm it is called. +You can't go to him there. It's a twenty-mile ride from here." + +"Can't I get a horse to take me?" she asked. + +"I could take you in my cart," said Burke slowly. + +"And will you?" Sylvia said. + +"I suppose you will go in any case," he said. + +"I must go," she answered steadily. + +"I don't see why," he said. "It's a degrading business. It won't +do any good." + +Her face quivered. She controlled it swiftly. "Will you take me?" +she said. + +He frowned. "What is going to happen afterwards? Have you thought +of that?" + +She shook her head. "No. I can't see the future at all. I only +know that I must see Guy, and I can't go back to England." + +"Why not?" he said. + +She pressed a hand to her throat as if she found speaking a +difficulty. "I have no place there. My father has married again. +I must earn my living here somehow." + +He moved abruptly. "You!" he said again. She tried to smile. +"You seem to think I am very helpless. I assure you I am not. I +have managed my father's house for five years. I am quite willing +to learn anything, and I am very strong." + +"You are very brave," he said, almost as if he spoke in spite of +himself. "But--you've got to be sensible too. You won't marry +him?" + +She hesitated. "I must see him. I must judge for myself." + +He nodded, still frowning. "Very well,--if you must. But you +won't marry him as a way out of your difficulties? You've got to +promise me that." + +"Why?" she said. + +He answered her with that sudden force which before had startled +her. "Because I can't stand by and see purity joined to +corruption. Some women will sacrifice anything for sentiment. You +wouldn't do anything so damn' foolish as that." + +"No," said Sylvia. + +"Then it's a promise?" he said. + +She held out her hand to him with her brave little smile. "I +promise you I won't do anything damn' foolish for the sake +of--sentiment. Will that do?" + +He gripped her hand for a moment. "Yes. I think it will," he said. + +"And thank you for being so good to me," she added. + +He dropped her hand, and turned away. "As to that--I please +myself," he said briefly. "Be ready to start in an hour from now!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE COMRADE + +That twenty-mile ride in Burke Ranger's high cart, with a pair of +skittish young horses pulling at the reins, was an experience never +to be eradicated from Sylvia's memory. They followed a course +across the veldt that began as a road and after a mile or two +deteriorated into a mere rough track. Up and down many slopes they +travelled, but the far hills never seemed to draw any nearer. Here +and there they passed kopjes stacked against the blazing blue of +the sky. They held a weird attraction for her. They were like the +stark bones of the earth pushing up through the coarse desert +grasses. Their rugged strength and their isolation made her +marvel. The veldt was swept by a burning wind. The clouds of the +night before had left no rain behind. + +Sylvia would have liked to ask many things of her companion but his +attention was completely absorbed by the animals he drove. Also +talking was wellnigh impossible during that wild progress, for +though the horses presently sobered down somewhat, the roughness of +the way was such that most of the time her thoughts were +concentrated upon maintaining her seat. She clung to her perch +with both hands, and mutely admired Burke Ranger's firm control and +deftness. He seemed to know by instinct when to expect any sudden +strain. + +The heat of the sun was intense, notwithstanding the shelter +afforded by the hood of the cart. The air seemed to quiver above +the burning earth. She felt after a time as if her eyes could +endure the glare no longer. The rapid, bumping progress faded into +a sort of fitful unpleasant dream through which the only actual +vivid consciousness that remained to her centred in the man beside +her. She never lost sight of his presence. It dominated all +besides, though he drove almost entirely in silence and never +seemed to look her way. + +At the end of what appeared an interminable stretch of time during +which all her sensibilities had gradually merged into one vast +discomfort, Burke spoke at her side. + +"We've got a bit of tough going before us. Hang on tight! We'll +have a rest after it." + +She opened her eyes and saw before her a steep slant between +massive stones, leading down to a wide channel of running water. +On the further side a similar steep ascent led up again. + +"Ritter Spruit," said Ranger. "It's not deep enough to be +dangerous. Hold on! We shall soon be through." + +He spoke to the horses and they gathered themselves as if for a +race. They thundered down the incline and were dashing through the +stony watercourse almost before Sylvia, clinging dazed to her seat, +realized what was happening. Her sensations were indescribable. +The water splashed high around them, and every bone in her body +seemed to suffer a separate knock or jar. If Ranger had not +previously impressed her with his level-headedness she would have +thought him mad. But her confidence in him remained unshaken, and +in a very few seconds it proved to be justified. They were through +the spruit and halfway up the further side before she drew breath. +Then she found that they were slackening pace. + +She turned to Ranger with kindling eyes. "Oh, you are a +sportsman!" she said. "How I should love to be able to drive like +that!" + +He smiled without turning his head. "I'm afraid this last is a +man's job. So you are awake now, are you? I was afraid you were +going to tumble out." + +She laughed. "The heat makes one drowsy. I shall get used to it." + +He was pulling in the horses. "There's some shade round the +corner. We'll rest for an hour or two." + +"I shall like that," said Sylvia. + +A group of small larch-trees grew among the stones at the top of +the slope, and by these he stopped. Sylvia looked around her with +appreciation as she alighted. + +"I am going to like South Africa," she said, + +"I wonder!" said Ranger. + +He began to unbuckle the traces, and she went round to the other +side and did the same. + +"Poor dears, they are hot!" she said. + +"Don't you do that!" said Ranger. + +She was tugging at the buckle. "Why not? I like doing it. I love +horses, don't you? But I know you do by the way you handle them. +Do you do your own horse-breaking? That's a job you might give me." + +"Am I going to find you employment, then?" said Burke. + +She laughed a little, bending her flushed face down. "Don't women +do any work out here?" + +"Yes. They work jolly hard, some of 'em." + +"Are you married?" said Sylvia. + +"No." + +She heaved a sigh. + +"Sorry?" he enquired. + +She finished her task and looked up. Her frank eyes met his across +the horses' backs. "No. I think I'm rather glad. I don't like +feminine authority at all." + +"That means you like your own way," observed Burke. + +She nodded. "Yes. But I don't always get it." + +"Are you a good loser?" he said. + +She hesitated. "I hope I'm a sportsman. I try to be." + +He moved to the horses' heads. "Come and hold this animal for me +while I hobble the other!" he said. + +She obeyed him readily. There was something of boyish alertness in +her movements that sent a flicker of approval into the man's eyes. +She drew the horse's head to her breast with a crooning sound. + +"He is a bit tricky with strangers," observed Burke, as he led the +other away. + +"Oh, not with me!" said Sylvia, "He knows I love him." + +When he returned to relieve her of her charge she was kissing the +forehead between the full soft eyes that looked at her with perfect +confidence. + +"See!" she said. "We are friends already." + +"I shall call you The Enchantress," said Burke. "Will you see if +you can find a suitable spot for a picnic now?" + +"Yes, but I can't conjure up a meal," said Sylvia. + +"I can," he said. "There's a basket under the seat." + +"How ripping!" she said. "I think you are the magician." + +He smiled. "Rather a poor specimen, I am afraid. You go and +select the spot, and I will bring it along!" + +Again she obeyed with cheerful alacrity. Her choice was +unhesitating. A large boulder threw an inviting shade, and she sat +down among the stones and took off her hat. + +Her red-gold hair gleamed against the dark background. Burke +Ranger's eyes dwelt upon it as he moved to join her. She looked up +at him. + +"I love this place. It feels so--good." + +He glanced up at the brazen sky. "You wouldn't say so if you +wanted rain as badly as I do," he observed. "We haven't had nearly +enough this season. But I am glad you can enjoy it." + +"I like it more and more," said Sylvia. She stretched an arm +towards the wide veldt all about them. "I am simply aching for a +gallop over that--a gallop in the very early morning, and to see +the sun rise from that knoll!" + +"That's a _kopje_," said Burke. + +Again half-unconsciously his eyes dwelt upon her vivid face. She +seemed to draw his look almost in spite of him. He set down the +basket by her side. + +"Am I to unpack?" said Sylvia. + +He dropped his eyes. "No. I will. It isn't much of a feed; only +enough to keep us from starvation. Tell me some more about +yourself! Tell me about your people--your home!" + +"Have you never heard of me before?" she asked. "Did--Guy--never +speak of me?" + +"I knew there was someone." Burke spoke rather unwillingly. "I +don't think he ever actually spoke of you to me. We're not +exactly--kindred spirits, he and I." + +"You don't like him," said Sylvia. + +"Nor he me," said Burke Ranger. + +She looked at him with her candid eyes. "I don't think you are +very tolerant of weakness, are you?" she said gently. + +"I don't know," he said non-committally. "Won't you tell me about +yourself?" + +The subject of Guy was obviously distasteful to him, yet her whole +life during the past five years had been so closely linked to the +thought of that absent lover of hers that it was impossible to +speak of the one without the other. She told him all without +reservation, feeling in a fashion that it was his right to know. + +He listened gravely, without comment, until she ended, when he made +one brief observation. "And so you chose the deep sea!" + +"Could I have done anything else?" she said. "Would you have done +anything else?" + +"Probably not," he said. "But a man is better equipped to fight +the undercurrents!" + +"You think I was very rash?" she questioned. + +He smiled. "One doesn't look for caution in a girl. I think your +father deserved a horsewhipping, for letting you go." + +"He couldn't prevent me," said Sylvia quickly. + +"Pshaw!" said Burke Ranger. + +"You're very rude," she protested. + +His smile became a laugh. "I could have prevented you," he said. + +She flushed. "Indeed you couldn't! I am not a namby-pamby miss. I +go my own way. I----" + +She broke off suddenly. Burke's eyes, grey as steel in his +sun-tanned face, were upon her. He looked amused at her vehemence. + +"Well?" he said encouragingly. "Finish!" + +She laughed in spite of herself. "No, I shan't say any more. I +never argue with the superior male. I just--go my own way, that's +all." + +"From which I gather that you are not particularly partial to the +superior male," said Burke. + +"I hate the species," said Sylvia with simplicity. + +"Except when it kneels at your feet," he suggested, looking +ironical. + +"No, I want to kick it then," she said. + +"You seem difficult to please," he observed. + +Sylvia looked out across the _veldt_. "I like a man to be just a +jolly comrade," she said. "If he can't be that, I've no use for +him." + +"I see," said Burke slowly. "That's to be my _role_, is it?" + +She turned to him impulsively with extended hand. "I think you can +fill it if you try." + +He took the hand, grasping it strongly. "All right. I'll try," he +said. + +"You don't mind?" she said half-wistfully. "You see, it makes such +a difference to feel there's someone like that to turn to in +trouble--someone who won't let you down." + +"I shan't let you down," said Burke. + +Her fingers closed hard on his. "You're a brick," she said. "Now +let's have some lunch, and then, if you don't mind, I'm going to +sleep!" + +"Best thing you can do," said Burke. + +They rested for the greater part of the afternoon in the shadow of +their boulder. Sylvia lay with her head on a light rug that he +spread for her, and he sat with his back to the rock and smoked +with eyes fixed straight before him. + +Sleep came to the girl very quickly for she was tired, and her +healthy young body was swift to find repose. But the man, watching +beside her, did not even doze. He scarcely varied his position +throughout his vigil, scarcely glanced at the figure nestled in the +long grass so close to him. But his attitude had the alertness of +the man on guard, and his brown face was set in grimly resolute +lines. It gave no indication whatever of that which was passing in +his mind. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE ARRIVAL + +It was drawing towards evening when Sylvia at length stirred, +stretched, and opened her eyes. A momentary bewilderment showed in +them, then with a smile she saw and recognized her companion. + +She sat up quickly. "I must have been asleep for ages. Why didn't +you wake me?" + +"I didn't want to," he said. + +She looked at him. "What have you been doing? Have you been +asleep?" + +He raised his shoulders to the first question. To the second he +replied merely, "No." + +"Why didn't you smoke?" she asked next. + +For an instant he looked half-ashamed, then very briefly, "I don't +live on tobacco," he said. + +"How very silly of you!" said Sylvia. "It wouldn't have disturbed +me in the least. I smoke cigarettes myself." + +Burke said nothing. After a moment he got to his feet. + +"Time to go?" she said. + +"Yes. I think we ought to be moving. We have some miles to go +yet. You sit still while I get the horses in!" + +But Sylvia was on her feet. "No. I'm coming to help. I like to +do things. Isn't it hot? Do you think there will be a storm?" + +He looked up at the sky. "No, not yet. It'll take some time to +break. Are you afraid of storms?" + +"Of course not!" said Sylvia. + +He smiled at her prompt rejoinder. "Not afraid of anything?" he +suggested. + +She smiled back. "Not often anyway. And I hope I don't behave +like a muff even when I am." + +"I shouldn't think that very likely," he observed. + +They put in the horses, and started again across the veldt. The +burning air that blew over the hot earth was like a blast from a +furnace. Over the far hills the clouds hung low and menacing, A +mighty storm seemed to be brewing somewhere on the further side of +those distant heights. + +"It is as if someone had lighted a great fire just out of sight," +said Sylvia. "Is it often like this?" + +"Very often," said Burke. + +"How wonderful!" she said. + +They drove on rapidly, and as they went, the brooding cloud-curtain +seemed to advance to meet them, spreading ominously across the sky +as if it were indeed the smoke from some immense conflagration. + +Sylvia became silent, awed by the spectacle. + +All about them the veldt took on a leaden hue. The sun still +shone; but vaguely, as if through smoked glass. The heat seemed to +increase. + +Sylvia sat rapt. She did not for some time wake to the fact that +Burke was urging the horses, and only when they stretched +themselves out to gallop in response to his curt command did she +rouse from her contemplation to throw him a startled glance. He +was leaning slightly forward, and the look On his face sent a +curious thrill through her. It was the look of a man braced to +utmost effort. His eyes were fixed steadily straight ahead, +marking the road they travelled. His driving was a marvel of skill +and confidence. The girl by his side forgot to watch the storm in +front of them in her admiration of his ability. It was to her the +most amazing exhibition of strength and adroitness combined that +she had ever witnessed. The wild enjoyment of that drive was +fixed in her memory for all time. + +At the end of half-an-hour's rapid travelling a great darkness had +begun to envelope them, and obscurity so pall-like that even near +objects were seen as it were through a dark veil. + +Burke broke his long silence. "Only two miles more!" + +She answered him exultantly. "I could go on for ever!" + +They seemed to fly on the wings of the wind those last two miles. +She fancied that they had turned off the track and were racing over +the grass, but the darkness was such that she could discern nothing +with any certainty. At last there came a heavy jolting that flung +her against Burke's shoulder, and on the top of it a frightful +flash and explosion that made her think the earth had rent asunder +under their feet. + +Half-stunned and wholly blinded, she covered her face, crouching +down almost against the foot-board of the cart, while the dreadful +echoes rolled away. + +Then again came Burke's voice, brief yet amazingly reassuring. +"Get down and run in! It's all right." + +She realized that they had come to a standstill, and mechanically +she raised herself to obey him. + +As she groped for the step, he grasped her arm. "Get on to the +_stoep_! There's going to be rain. I'll be with you in a second." + +She thanked him, and found herself on the ground. A man in front +of her was calling out unintelligibly, and somewhere under cover a +woman's voice was uplifted in shrill tones of dismay. This latter +sound made her think of the chattering of an indignant monkey, so +shrill was it and so incessant. + +A dark pile of building stood before her, and she blundered towards +it, not seeing in the least where she was going. The next moment +she kicked against some steps, and sprawled headlong. + +Someone--Burke--uttered an oath behind her, and she heard him leap +to the ground. She made a sharp effort to rise, and cried out with +a sudden pain in her right knee that rendered her for an instant +powerless. Then she felt his hands upon her, beneath her. He +lifted her bodily and bore her upwards. + +She was still half-dazed when he set her down in a chair. She held +fast to his arm. "Please stay with me just a moment--just a +moment!" she besought him incoherently. + +He stayed, very steady and quiet beside her. "Are you hurt?" he +asked her. + +She fought with herself, but could not answer him. A ridiculous +desire to dissolve into tears possessed her. She gripped his arm +with both hands, saying no word. + +"Stick to it!" he said. + +"I--I'm an awful idiot!" she managed to articulate. + +"No, you're not. You're a brave girl," he said. "I was a fool not +to warn you. I forgot you didn't know your way. Did you hurt +yourself when you fell?" + +"My knee--a little," she said. "It'll be all right directly." She +released his arm. "Thank you. I'm better now. Oh, what is that? +Rain?" + +"Yes, rain," he said. + +It began like the rushing of a thousand wings, sweeping +irresistibly down from the hills. It swelled into a pandemonium of +sound that was unlike anything she had ever heard. It was as if +they had suddenly been caught by a seething torrent. Again the +lightning flared, dancing a quivering, zigzag measure across the +verandah in which she sat, and the thunder burst overhead, numbing +the senses. + +By that awful leaping glare Sylvia saw her companion. He was +stooping over her. He spoke; but she could not hear a word he +uttered. + +Then again his arms were about her and he lifted her. She yielded +herself to him with the confidence of a child, and he carried her +into his home while the glancing lightning showed the way. + +The noise within the house was less overwhelming. He put her down +on a long chair in almost total darkness, but a few moments later +the lightning glimmered again and showed her vividly the room in +which she lay. It was a man's room, half-office, half-lounge, +extremely bare, and devoid of all ornament with the exception of a +few native weapons on the walls. + +The kindling of a lamp confirmed this first impression, but the +presence of the man himself diverted her attention from her +surroundings. He turned from lighting the lamp to survey her. She +thought he looked somewhat stern. + +"What about this knee of yours?" he said. "Is it badly damaged?" + +"Oh, not badly," she answered. "I'm sure not badly. What a lot of +trouble I am giving you! I am so sorry." + +"You needn't be sorry on that account," he said. "I blame myself +alone. Do you mind letting me, see it? I am used to giving +first-aid." + +"Oh, I don't think that is necessary," said Sylvia. "I--can quite +easily doctor myself." + +"I thought we were to be comrades," he observed bluntly. + +She coloured and faintly laughed, "You can see it if you +particularly want to." + +"I do." said Burke. + +She sat up without further protest, and uncovered the injured knee +for his inspection. "I really don't think anything of a tumble +like that," she said, as he bent to examine it. But the next +moment at his touch she flinched and caught her breath. + +"That hurts, does it?" he said. "It's swelling up. I'm going to +get some hot water to bathe it." + +He stood up with the words and turned away. Sylvia leaned back +again, feeling rather sick. Certainly the pain was intense. + +The rain was still battering on the roof with a sound like the +violent jingling together of tin cans, She listened to it with a +dull wonder. The violence of it would have made a deeper +impression upon her had she been suffering less. But she felt as +one immersed in an evil dream which clogged all her senses save +that of pain. + +When Burke returned she was lying with closed eyes, striving hard +to keep herself under control. The clatter of the rain had abated +somewhat, and she heard him speak over his shoulder to someone +behind him. She looked up and saw an old Kaffir woman carrying a +basin. + +"This is Mary Ann," said Burke, intercepting her glance of +surprise. "A useful old dog except when there is any dope about! +Hope you don't mind niggers." + +"I shall get used to them," said Sylvia rather faintly. + +"There's nothing formidable about this one," he said, "She can't +help being hideous. She is quite tame." + +Sylvia tried to smile. Certainly Mary Ann was hideous, but her +lameness was equally obvious. She evidently stood in considerable +awe of her master, obeying his slightest behest with clumsy +solicitude and eyes that rolled unceasingly in his direction. + +Burke kept her in the room while he bathed the injury. He was very +gentle, and Sylvia was soon conscious of relief. When at length he +applied a pad soaked in ointment and proceeded to bandage with a +dexterity that left nothing to be desired, she told him with a +smile that he was as good as a professional. + +"One has to learn a little of this sort of thing," he said. "How +does it feel now?" + +"Much better," she answered. "I shall have forgotten all about it +by to-morrow." + +"No, you won't," said Burke. "You will rest it for three days at +least. You don't want to get water on the joint." + +"Three days!" she echoed in dismay, "I can't--possibly--lie up +here." + +He raised his eyes from his bandaging for a moment, and a curious +thrill went through her; it was as if his look pierced her. "The +impossible often happens here," he said briefly. + +She expressed a sharp tremor that caught her unawares. "What does +that mean?" she asked, striving to speak lightly. + +He replied with his eyes lowered again to his task. "It means +among other things that you can't get back to Ritzen until the +floods go down. Ritter Spruit is a foaming torrent by this time." + +"Good heavens!" she exclaimed. "But isn't there--isn't there a +bridge anywhere?" + +"Forty miles away," said Burke Ranger laconically. + +"Good--heavens!" she gasped again. + +He finished his bandaging and stood up. "Now I am going to carry +you to bed," he said, "and Mary Ann shall wait on you. You won't +be frightened?" + +She smiled in answer. "You've taken my breath away, but I shall +get it again directly. I don't think I want to go to bed yet. +Mayn't I stay here for a little?" + +He looked down at her. "You've got some pluck, haven't you?" he +said. + +She flushed. "I hope so--a little." + +He touched her shoulder unexpectedly, with a hint of awkwardness. +"I'm afraid I can only offer you--rough hospitality. It's the best +I can do. My guests have all been of the male species till now. +But you will put up with it? You won't be scared anyhow?" + +She reached up an impulsive hand and put it into his. "No, I +shan't be scared at all. You make me feel quite safe. I'm +only--more grateful than I can say." + +His fingers closed upon hers. "You've nothing to be grateful for. +Let me take you to the guestroom and Mary Ann shall bring you +supper. You'll be more comfortable there. Your baggage is there +already." + +She clung to his hand for an instant, caught by an odd feeling of +forlornness. "I will do whatever you wish. But--but--you will let +me see Guy in the morning?" + +He stooped to lift her. For a moment his eyes looked straight into +hers. Then: "Wait till the morning comes!" he said quietly. + +There was finality in his tone, and she knew that it was no moment +for discussion. With a short sigh she yielded to the inevitable, +and suffered him to carry her away. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE DREAM + +She had no further communication with Burke that night. The old +Kaffir woman helped her, brought her a meal on a tray, and waited +upon her until dismissed. + +Sylvia had no desire to detain her. She longed for solitude. The +thought of Guy tormented her perpetually. She ached and +yearned--even while she dreaded--to see him. But Burke had decreed +that she must wait till the morning, and she had found already that +what Burke decreed usually came to pass. Besides, she knew that +she was worn out and wholly unfit for any further strain. + +Very thankfully she sank down at last upon the bed in the bare +guest-room. Her weariness was such that she thought that she must +sleep, yet for hours she lay wide awake, listening to the rain +streaming down and pondering--pondering the future. Her romance +was ended. She saw that very clearly. Whatever came of her +meeting with Guy, it would not be--it could not be--the +consummation to which she had looked forward so confidently during +the past five years. Guy had failed her. She faced the fact with +all her courage. The Guy she had loved and trusted did not exist +any longer, if he ever had existed. Life had changed for her. The +path she had followed had ended suddenly. She must needs turn back +and seek another. But whither to turn she knew not. It seemed +that there was no place left for her anywhere. + +Slowly the long hours dragged away. She thought the night would +never pass. Her knee gave her a good deal of pain, and she +relinquished all hope of sleep. Her thoughts began to circle about +Burke Ranger in a worried, confused fashion. She felt she would +know him better when she had seen Guy. At present the likeness +between them alternately bewildered her or hurt her poignantly. +She could not close her mind to the memory of having taken him for +Guy. He was the sort of man--only less polished--that she had +believed Guy would become. She tried to picture him as he must +have been when younger, but she could see only Guy. And again the +bitter longing, the aching disappointment, tore her soul. + +Towards morning she dozed, but physical discomfort and torturing +anxiety went with her unceasingly, depriving her of any real +repose. She was vaguely aware of movements in the house long +before a low knock at the door called her back to full +consciousness. + +She started up on her elbows. "Come in! I am awake." + +Burke Ranger presented himself. "I was afraid Mary Ann might give +you a shock if she woke you suddenly," he said. "Can I come in?" + +"Please do!" she said. + +The sight of his tanned face and keen eyes came as a great relief +to her strained and weary senses. She held out a welcoming hand, +dismissing convention as superfluous. + +He came to her side and took her hand, but in a moment his fingers +were feeling for her pulse. He looked straight down at her. +"You've had a bad night," he said. + +She admitted it, mustering a smile as she did so. "It rained so +hard, I couldn't forget it. Has it left off yet?" + +He paid no attention whatever to the question. "What's the +trouble?" he said. "Knee bad?" + +"Not very comfortable," she confessed. "It will be better +presently, no doubt." + +"I'll dress if again," said Burke, "when you've had some tea. You +had better stay in bed to-day." + +"Oh, must I?" she said in dismay. + +"Don't you want to?" said Burke. + +"No. I hate staying in bed. It makes me so miserable." She spoke +with vehemence. Besides--besides----" + +"Yes?" he said. + +"I want--to see Guy," she ended, colouring very deeply. + +"That's out of the question," said Burke, with quiet decision. +"You certainly won't see him to-day." + +"Oh, but I must! I really must!" she pleaded desperately. "My +knee isn't very bad. Have you--have you told him I am here yet?" + +"No," said Burke. + +"Then won't you? Please won't you?" She was urging him almost +feverishly now. "I can't rest till I have seen him--indeed. I +can't see my way clearly. I can't do anything until--until I have +seen him." + +Burke was frowning. He looked almost savage, But she was not +afraid of him. She could think only of Guy at that moment and of +her urgent need to see him. It was all that mattered. With nerves +stretched and quivering, she waited for his answer. + +It did not come immediately. He was still holding her hand in one +of his and feeling her pulse with the other. + +"Listen!" he said at length. "There is no need for all this +wearing anxiety. You must make up your mind to rest to-day, or you +will be ill. It won't hurt you--or him either--to wait a few hours +longer." + +"I shan't be ill!" she assured him earnestly. "I am never ill. +And I want to see him--oh, so much. I must see him. He isn't--he +isn't worse?" + +"No," said Burke. + +"Then why mustn't I see him?" she urged. "Why do you look like +that? Are you keeping back something? Has--has something happened +that you don't want me to know? Ah, that is it! I thought so! +Please tell me what it is! It is far better to tell me." + +She drew her hand from his and sat up, steadily facing him. She +was breathing quickly, but she had subdued her agitation. Her eyes +met his unflinchingly. + +He made an abrupt gesture--as if compelled against his will. +"Well--if you must have it! He has gone." + +"Gone!" she repeated. "What--do you mean by that?" + +He looked down into her whitening face, and his own grew sterner. +"Just what I say. He cleared out yesterday morning early. No one +knows where he is." + +Sylvia's hand unconsciously pressed her heart. It was beating very +violently. She spoke with a great effort. "Perhaps he has gone to +Ritzen--to look for me." + +"I think not," said Burke drily. + +His tone said more than his words. She made a slight involuntary +movement of shrinking. But in a moment she spoke again with a +pathetic little smile. + +"You are very good to me. But I mustn't waste any more of your +time. Please don't worry about me any more! I can quite well +bandage my knee myself." + +The grimness passed from his face. "I shall have to see it to +satisfy myself it is going on all right," he said. "But I needn't +bother you now. I'll send Mary Ann in with some tea." + +"Thank you," said Sylvia. She was gathering her scattered forces +again after the blow; she spoke with measured firmness. "Now +please don't think about me any more! I am not ill--or going to be. +You may look at my knee this evening--if you are very anxious. But +not before." + +"Then you will stay in bed?" said Burke. + +"Very well; if I must," she conceded. + +He turned to go; then abruptly turned back. "And you won't lie and +worry? You've too much pluck for that." + +She smiled again--a quivering, difficult smile. "I am not at all +plucky, really. I am only pretending." + +He smiled back at her suddenly. "You're a brick! I've never seen +any woman stand up to hard knocks as you do. They generally want +to be carried over the rough places. But you--you stand on your +feet." + +The genuine approbation of his voice brought the colour back to her +face. His smile too, though it reminded her piercingly of Guy, +sent a glow of comfort to her chilled and trembling heart. + +"I want to if I can," she said. "But I've had rather a--knock-out +this time. I shall be all right presently, when I've had time to +pull myself together." + +He bent abruptly and laid his hand upon hers. + +"Look here!" he said. "Don't worry!" + +She lifted clear eyes to his. "No--I won't! There is always a way +out of every difficulty, isn't there?" + +"There certainly is out of this one," he said. + +"I'll show it you presently--if you'll promise not to be offended." + +"Offended!" said Sylvia. "That isn't very likely, is it?" + +"I don't know," said Burke. "I hope not. Good-bye!" He +straightened himself, stood a moment looking down at her, then +turned finally and left her. + +There was something in the manner of his going that made her wonder. + +The entrance of the old Kaffir woman a few minutes later diverted +her thoughts. She found Mary Ann an interesting study, being the +first of her kind that she had viewed at close quarters. She was +very stout and ungainly. She moved with elephantine clumsiness, +but her desire to please was so evident that Sylvia could not +regard her as wholly without charm. Her dog-like amiability +outweighed her hideousness. She found it somewhat difficult to +understand Mary Ann's speech, for it was more like the chattering +of a monkey than human articulation, and being very weary she did +not encourage her to talk. + +There was so much to think about, and for a while her tired brain +revolved around Guy and all that his departure meant to her. She +tried to take a practical view of the situation, to grapple with +the difficulties that confronted her. Was there the smallest +chance of his return? And even if he returned, what could it mean +to her? Would it help her in any way? It was impossible to evade +the answer to that question. He had failed her finally. She was +stranded in a strange land and only her own efforts could avail her +now. + +She wondered if Burke would urge her to return to her father's +house. If so, he would not succeed. She would face any hardship +sooner than that. She was not afraid of work. She would make a +living for herself somehow if she worked in the fields with Kaffir +women. She would be independent or die in the attempt. After all, +she reflected forlornly, it would not matter very much to anyone if +she did die. She stood or fell alone. + +Thought became vague at last and finally obscured in the mists of +sleep. She lay still on the narrow bed and slept long and deeply. + +It must have been after several hours that her dream came to her. +It arose out of a sea of oblivion--a vision unsummoned, wholly +unexpected. She saw Burke Ranger galloping along the side of a dry +and stony ravine where doubtless water flowed in torrents when the +rain came. He was bending low in the saddle, his dark face set +forward scanning the path ahead. With a breathless interest she +watched him, and the thunder of his horse's hoofs drummed in her +brain. Suddenly, turning her eyes further along the course he +followed, she saw with horror round a bend that which he could not +see. She beheld another horseman galloping down from the opposite +direction. The face of this horseman was turned from her, but she +did not need to see it. She knew, as it is given in dreams to know +beyond all doubting, that it was Guy. She recognized his easy seat +in the saddle, the careless grace of his carriage. He was plunging +straight ahead with never a thought of danger, and though he must +have seen the turn as he approached it, he did not attempt to check +the animal under him. Rather he seemed to be urging it forward. +And ever the thunder of the galloping hoofs filled her brain. + +Tensely she watched, in a suspense that racked her whole body. Guy +reached the bend first. There was room for only one upon that +narrow ledge. He went round the curve with the confidence of one +who fully expected a clear path ahead. And then--on the very edge +of the precipice--he caught sight of the horseman galloping towards +him. He reined back. He threw up one hand as his animal staggered +under him, and called a warning. But the thudding of the hoofs +drowned all other sound. + +Sylvia's heart stood still as if it could never beat again. Her +look flashed to Burke Ranger. He was galloping still--galloping +hard. One glimpse she had of his face as he drew near, and she +knew that he saw the man ahead of him, for it was set and +terrible--the face of a devil. + +The next instant she heard the awful crash of collision. There was +a confusion indescribable, there on the very brink of the ravine. +Then one horse and its rider went hurling headlong down that wall +of stones. The other horseman struck spurs into his animal and +galloped up the narrow path to the head of the ravine without a +backward glance. + +She was left transfixed by horror in a growing darkness that seemed +to penetrate to her very soul. Which of the two had galloped free? +Which lay shattered there, very far below her in an abyss that had +already become obscure? She agonized to know, but the darkness hid +all things. At last she tore it aside as if it had been a veil. +She went down, down into that deep place. She stumbled through a +valley of awful desolation till she came to that which she +sought;--a fallen horse, a rider with glassy eyes upturned. + +But the hand of Death had wiped out every distinguishing mark. Was +it Guy? Was it Burke? She knew not. She turned from the sight +with dread unspeakable. She went from the accursed spot with the +anguish of utter bewilderment in her soul. She was bereft of all. +She walked alone in a land of strangers. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE CROSS-ROADS + +When Sylvia started awake from that terrible dream it was to hear +the tread of horses' feet outside the house and the sound of men's +voices talking to each other. As she listened, these drew nearer, +and soon she heard footsteps on the _stoep_ outside. It was +drawing towards sunset, and she realized that she had slept for a +long time. + +She felt refreshed in spite of her dream and very thankful to +regain possession of her waking senses. Her knee too was decidedly +better. She found with relief that with care she could use it. + +The smell of tobacco wafted in, and she realized that the two men +were sitting smoking together on the _stoep_. One of them, she +felt sure, was Burke Ranger, though it very soon dawned upon her +that they were conversing in Dutch. She lay for awhile watching +the orange light of evening gleaming through the creeper that +entwined the comer of the _stoep_ outside her window. Then, +growing weary of inaction, she slipped from her bed and began to +dress. + +Her cabin-trunk had been placed in a corner of the bare room. She +found her key and opened it. + +Guy's photograph--the photograph she had cherished for five +years--lay on the top. She saw it with a sudden, sharp pang, +remembering how she had put it in at the last moment and smiled to +think how soon she would behold him in the flesh. The handsome, +boyish face looked straight into hers. Ah, how she had loved him. +A swift tremor went through her. She closed her eyes upon the +smiling face. And suddenly great tears welled up from her heart. +She laid her face down upon the portrait and wept. + +The voices on the _stoep_ recalled her. She remembered that she +had a reputation for courage to maintain. She commanded herself +with an effort and finished her dressing. She did not dare to look +at the portrait again, but hid it deep in her trunk. + +Mary Ann seemed to have forsaken her, and she was in some +uncertainty as to how to proceed when she was at length ready to +leave her room. She did not want to intrude upon Burke and his +visitor, but a great longing to breathe the air of the _veldt_ was +upon her. She wondered if she could possibly escape unseen. + +Finally, she ventured out into the passage, and followed it to an +open door that seemed to lead whither she desired to go. She +fancied that it was out of sight of the two men on the _stoep_, but +as she reached it, she realized her mistake. For there fell a +sudden step close to her, and as she paused irresolute, Burke's +figure blocked the opening. He stood looking at her, pipe in hand. + +"So--you are up!" he said. + +His voice was quite friendly, yet she was possessed by a strong +feeling that he did not want her there. + +She looked back at him in some embarrassment. "I hope you don't +mind," she said. "I was only coming out for a breath of air." + +"Why should I mind?" said Burke. "Come and sit on the _stoep_! My +neighbour, Piet Vreiboom, is there, but he is just going." + +He spoke the last words with great distinctness, and it occurred to +her that he meant them to be overheard. + +She hung back. "Oh, I don't think I will. I can't talk Dutch. +Really I would rather----" + +"He understands a little English," said Burke. "But don't be +surprised at anything he says! He isn't very perfect." + +He stood against the wall for her to pass him, and she did so with +a feeling that she had no choice. Very reluctantly she moved out +on to the wooden _stoep_, and turned towards the visitor. The +orange of the sunset was behind her, turning her hair to living +gold. It fell full upon the face of the man before her, and she +was conscious of a powerful sense of repugnance. Low-browed, +wide-nosed, and prominent of jaw, with close-set eyes of monkeyish +craft, such was the countenance of Piet Vreiboom. He sat and +stared at her, his hat on his head, his pipe in his mouth. + +"How do you do, Mrs. Ranger?" he said. + +Sylvia checked her advance, but in a moment Burke Ranger's hand +closed, upon her elbow, quietly impelling her forward. + +"Mr. Vreiboom saw you with me at Ritzen yesterday," he said, and +she suddenly remembered the knot of Boer farmers at the hotel-door +and the staring eyes that had abashed her. + +She glanced up at Burke, but his face was quite emotionless. Only +something about him--an indefinable something--held her back from +correcting the mistake that Vreiboom had made. She looked at the +seated Boer with a dignity wholly unconscious. "How do you do?" +she said coolly. + +He stretched out a hand to her. His smile was familiar. "I hope +you like the farm, Mrs. Ranger," he said. + +"She has hardly seen it yet," said Burke. + +There was a slight pause before Sylvia gave her hand. This man +filled her with distaste. She resented his manner. She resented +the look in his eyes. + +"I have no doubt I shall like it very much," she said, removing her +hand as speedily as possible. + +"You like to be--a farmer's wife?" questioned Piet, still freely +staring. + +She resented this question also, but she had to respond to it. "It +is what I came out for," she said. + +"You do not look like a farmer's wife," said Piet. + +Sylvia stiffened. + +"Give him a little rope!" said Burke. "He doesn't know much. Sit +down! I'll get him on the move directly." + +She sat down not very willingly, and he resumed his talk with +Vreiboom in Dutch, lounging against the wall. Sylvia sat quite +silent, her eyes upon the glowing sky and the far-away hills. In +the foreground was a _kopje_ shaped like a sugar-loaf. She wished +herself upon its summit which was bathed in the sunset light. + +Once or twice she was moved to glance up at the brown face of the +man who leaned between herself and the objectionable visitor. His +attitude was one of complete ease, and yet something told her that +he desired Piet's departure quite as sincerely as she did. + +He must have given a fairly broad hint at last, she decided; for +Piet moved somewhat abruptly and knocked out the ashes of his pipe +on the floor with a noisy energy that made her start. Then he got +up and addressed her in his own language. She did not understand +in the least what he said, but she gave him a distant smile +realizing that he was taking leave of her. She was somewhat +surprised to see Burke take him unceremoniously by the shoulder as +he stood before her and march him off the stoep. Piet himself +laughed as if he had said something witty, and there was that in +the laugh that sent the colour naming to her cheeks. + +She quivered with impotent indignation as she sat. She wished with +all her heart that Burke would kick him down the steps. + +The sunset-light faded, and a soft dusk stole up over the wide +spaces. A light breeze cooled her hot face, and after the lapse of +a few minutes she began to chide herself for her foolishness. +Probably the man had not meant to be offensive. She was certain +Burke would never permit her to be insulted in his presence. She +heard the sound of hoof-beats retreating away into the distance, +and, with it, the memory of her dream came back upon her. She felt +forlorn and rather frightened. It was only a dream of course; it +was only a dream! But she wished that Burke would come back to +her. His substantial presence would banish phantoms. + +He did not come for some time, but she heard his step at last. And +then a strange agitation took her so that she wanted to spring up +and avoid him. She did not do so; she forced herself to appear +normal. But every nerve tingled as he approached, and she could +not keep the quick blood from her face. + +He was carrying a tray which he set down on a rough wooden table +near her. + +"You must be famished," he said. + +She had not thought of food, but certainly the sight of it cheered +her failing spirits. She smiled at him. + +"Are we going to have another picnic?" + +He smiled in answer, and she felt oddly relieved, All sense of +strain and embarrassment left her. She sat up and helped him +spread the feast. + +The fare was very simple, but she found it amply satisfying. She +partook of Mary Ann's butter with appreciation. + +"I can make butter," she told him presently. "And bake bread?" +said Burke. + +She nodded, laughing. "Yes, and cook joints and mend clothes, too. +Who does your mending? Mary Ann?" + +"I do my own," said Burke. "I cook, too, when Mary Ann takes leave +of absence. But I have a Kaffir house boy, Joe, for the odd jobs. +And there's a girl, too, uglier than Mary Ann, a relation of +hers--called Rose, short for Fair Rosamond. Haven't you seen Rose +yet?" + +Sylvia's laugh brought a smile to his face. It was a very +infectious laugh. Though she sobered almost instantly, it left a +ripple of mirth behind on the surface of their conversation. He +carried the tray away again when the meal was over, firmly refusing +her offer to wash up. + +"Mary Ann can do it in the morning," he said. + +"Where is she now?" asked Sylvia. + +He sat down beside her, and took out his pipe. "They are over in +their own huts. They don't sleep in the house." + +"Does no one sleep in the house?" she asked quickly. + +"I do," said Burke. + +A sudden silence fell. The dusk had deepened into a starlit +darkness, but there was a white glow behind the hills that seemed +to wax with every instant that passed. Very soon the whole _veldt_ +would be flooded with moonlight. + +In a very small voice Sylvia spoke at length. + +"Mr. Ranger!" + +It was the first time she had addressed him by name. He turned +directly towards her. "Call me Burke!" he said. + +It was almost a command. She faced him as directly as he faced +her. "Burke--if you wish it!" she said. "I want to talk things +over with you, to thank you for your very great goodness to me, +and--and to make plans for the future." + +"One moment!" he said. "You have given up all thought of marrying +Guy?" + +She hesitated. "I suppose so," she said slowly. + +"Don't you know your own mind?" he said. + +Still she hesitated. "If--if he should come back----" + +"He will come back," said Burke. + +She started. "He will?" + +"Yes, he will." His voice held grim confidence, and somehow it +sounded merciless also to her ears. "He'll turn up again some day. +He always does. I'm about the only man in South Africa who +wouldn't kick him out within six months. He knows that. That's +why he'll come back." + +"You are--good to him," said Sylvia, her voice very low. + +"No, I'm not; not specially. He knows what I think of him anyhow." +Burke spoke slowly. "I've done what I could for him, but he's one +of my failures. You've got to grasp the fact that he's a rotter. +Have you grasped that yet?" + +"I'm beginning to," Sylvia said, under her breath. + +"Then you can't--possibly--many him," said Burke. + +She lowered her eyes before the keenness of his look. She wished +the light in the east were not growing so rapidly. + +"The question is, What am I going to do?" she said. + +Burke was silent for a moment. Then with a slight gesture that +might have denoted embarrassment he said, "You don't want to stay +here, I suppose?" + +She looked up again quickly. "Here--on this farm, do you mean?" + +"Yes." He spoke brusquely, but there was a certain eagerness in +his attitude as he leaned towards her. + +A throb of gratitude went through her. She put out her hand to him +very winningly. "What a pity I'm not a boy!" she said, genuine +regret in her voice. + +He took her hand and kept it. "Is that going to make any +difference?" he said. + +She looked at him questioningly. It was difficult to read his face +in the gloom. "All the difference, I am afraid," she said. "You +are very generous--a real good comrade. If I were a boy, there's +nothing I'd love better. But, being a woman, I can't live here +alone with you, can I? Not even in South Africa!" + +"Why not?" he said. + +His hand grasped hers firmly; she grasped his in return. "You +heard what your Boer friend called me," she said. "He wouldn't +understand anything else." + +"I told him to call you that," said Burke. + +"You--told him!" She gave a great start. His words amazed her. + +"Yes." There was a dogged quality in his answer. "I had to +protect you somehow. He had seen us together at Ritzen. I said +you were my wife." + +Sylvia gasped in speechless astonishment. + +He went on ruthlessly. "It was the only thing to do. They're not +a particularly moral crowd here, and, as you say, they wouldn't +understand anything else--decent. Do you object to the idea? Do +you object very strongly?" + +There was something masterful in the persistence with which he +pressed the question. Sylvia had a feeling as of being held down +and compelled to drink some strangely paralyzing draught. + +She made a slight, half-scared movement and in a moment his hand +released hers. + +"You do object!" he said. + +She clasped her hands tightly together. "Please don't say--or +think--that! It is such a sudden idea, and--it's rather a wild +one, isn't it?" Her breath came quickly. "If--if I agreed--and +let the pretence go on--people would be sure to find out sooner or +later. Wouldn't they?" + +"I am not suggesting any pretence," he said. + +"What do you mean then?" Sylvia said, compelling herself to speak +steadily. + +"I am asking you to marry me," he said, with equal steadiness. + +"Really, do you mean? You are actually in earnest?" Her voice had +a sharp quiver in it. She was trembling suddenly. "Please be +quite plain with me!" she said. "Remember, I don't know you very +well. I have got to get used to the ways out here." + +"I am quite in earnest," said Burke. "You know me better than you +knew the man you came out here to marry. And you will get used to +things more quickly married to me than any other way. At least you +will have an assured position. That ought to count with you." + +"Of course it would! It does!" she said rather incoherently. +"But--you see--I've no one to help me--no one to advise me. I'm on +a road I don't know. And I'm so afraid of taking a wrong turning." + +"Afraid!" he said. "You!" + +She tried to laugh. "You think me a very bold person, don't you? +Or you wouldn't have suggested such a thing." + +"I think you've got plenty of grit," he said, "but that wasn't what +made me suggest it." He paused a moment. "Perhaps it's hardly +worth while going on," he said then. "I seem to have gone too far +already. Please believe I meant well, that's all!" + +"Oh, I know that!" she said. + +And then, moved by a curious impulse, she did an extraordinary +thing. She leaned forward and laid her clasped hands on his knee. + +"I'm going to be--awfully frank with you," she said rather +tremulously. You--won't mind?'' + +He sat motionless for a second. Then very quietly he dropped his +pipe back into his pocket and grasped her slender wrists. "Go on!" +he said. + +Her face was lifted, very earnest and appealing, to his. "You +know," she said, "we are not strangers. We haven't been from the +very beginning. We started comrades, didn't we?" + +"We should have been married by this time, if I hadn't put the +brake on," said Burke. + +"Yes," Sylvia said. "I know. That is what makes me feel +so--intimate with you. But it is different for you. I am a total +stranger to you. You have never met me--or anyone like me--before. +Have you?" + +"And I have never asked anyone to marry me before," said Burke. + +The wrists he held grew suddenly rigid. "You have asked me out +of--out of pity--and the goodness of your heart?" she whispered. + +"Quite wrong," said Burke. "I want a capable woman to take care of +me--when Mary Ann goes on the bust." + +"Please don't make me laugh!" begged Sylvia rather shakily. "I +haven't done yet. I'm going to ask you an awful thing next. +You'll tell me the truth, won't you?" + +"I'll tell you before you ask," he said. "I can be several kinds +of beast, but not the kind you are afraid of. I am not a faddist, +but I am moral. I like it best." + +The curt, distinct words were too absolute to admit of any doubt. +Sylvia breathed a short, hard sigh. + +"I wonder," she said, "if it would be very wrong to marry a person +you only like." + +"Marriage is a risk--in any case," said Burke. "But if you're not +blindly in love, you can at least see where you are going." + +"I can't," she said rather piteously. + +"You're afraid of me," he said. + +"No, not really--not really. It's almost as big a risk for you as +for me. You haven't bothered about--my morals, have you?" Her +faint laugh had in it a sound of tears. + +The hands that held her wrists closed with a steady pressure. "I +haven't," said Burke with simplicity. + +"Thank you," she said. "You've been very kind to me. Really I am +not afraid of you." + +"Sure?" said Burke. + +"Only I still wish I were a boy," she said. "You and I could be +just pals then." + +"And why not now?" he said. + +"Is it possible?" she asked. + +"I should say so. Why not?" + +She freed her hands suddenly and laid them upon his arms. "If I +marry you, will you treat me just as a pal?" + +"I will," said Burke. + +She was still trembling a little. "You won't interfere with +my--liberty?" + +"Not unless you abuse it," he said. + +She laughed again faintly. "I won't do that. I'll be a model of +discretion. You may not think it, but I am--very discreet." + +"I am sure of it," said Burke. + +"No, you're not. You're not in the least sure of anything where I +am concerned. You've only known me--two days." + +He laughed a little. "It doesn't matter how long it has taken. I +know you." + +She laughed with him, and sat up, "What must you have thought of me +when I told you you hadn't shaved?" + +He took out his pipe again. "If you'd been a boy, I should +probably have boxed your ears," he said. "By the way, why did you +get up when I told you to stay in bed?" + +"Because I knew best what was good for me," said Sylvia. "Have you +got such a thing as a cigarette?" + +He got up. "Yes, in my room. Wait while I fetch them!" + +"Oh, don't go on purpose!" she said. "I daresay I shouldn't like +your kind, thanks all the same." + +He went nevertheless, and she leaned back with her face to the +hills and waited. The moon was just topping the great summits. +She watched it with a curious feeling of weakness. It had not been +a particularly agitating interview, but she knew that she had just +passed a cross-roads, in her life. + +She had taken a road utterly unknown to her and though she had +taken it of her own accord, she did not feel that the choice had +really been hers. Somehow her faculties were numbed, were +paralyzed. She could not feel the immense importance of what she +had done, or realize that she had finally, of her own action, +severed her life from Guy's. He had become such a part of herself +that she could not all at once divest herself of that waiting +feeling, that confident looking forward to a future with him. And +yet, strangely, her memory of him had receded into distance, become +dim and remote. In Burke's presence she could not recall him at +all. The two personalities, dissimilar though she knew them to be, +seemed in some curious fashion to have become merged into one. She +could not understand her own feelings, but she was conscious of +relief that the die was cast. Whatever lay before her, she was +sure of one thing. Burke Ranger would be her safeguard against any +evil that might arise and menace her. His protection was of the +solid quality that would never fail her. She felt firm ground +beneath her feet at last. + +At the sound of his returning step, she turned with the moonlight +on her face and smiled up at him with complete confidence. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE STALE + +Whenever in after days Sylvia looked back upon her marriage, it +seemed to be wrapped in a species of hazy dream like the early +mists on that far-off range of hills. + +They did not go again to Ritzen, but to a town of greater +importance further down the line, a ride of nearly forty miles +across the _veldt_. It was a busy town in the neighbourhood of +some mines, and its teeming life brought back again to her that +sense of aloneness in a land of strangers that had so oppressed her +in the beginning. It drove her to seek Burke's society whenever +possible. He was the shield between her and desolation, and in his +presence her misgivings always faded into the background. He knew +some of the English people at Brennerstadt, but she dreaded meeting +them, and entreated him not to introduce anyone to her until they +were married. + +"People are all so curious. I can't face it," she said. "Mine is +rather a curious story, too. It will only set them talking, and I +do so hate gossip." + +He smiled a little and conceded the point. And so she was still a +stranger to everyone on the day she laid her hand in Burke's and +swore to be faithful to him. The marriage was a civil one. That +also robbed it of all sense of reality for her. The ceremony left +her cold. It did not touch so much as the outer tissues of her +most vital sensibilities. She even felt somewhat impatient of the +formalities observed, and very decidedly glad when they were over. + +"Now let's go for a ride and forget it all!" she said. "We'll have +a picnic on the _veldt_." + +They had their picnic, but the heat was so great as to rob it of +much enjoyment. Sylvia was charmed by a distant view of a herd of +springbok, and her eyes shone momentarily when Burke said that they +would have to do some shooting together. But almost immediately +she shook her head. + +"No, they are too pretty to kill. I love the hunt, but I hate the +kill. Besides, I shall be too busy. If I am going to be your +partner, one of us will have to do some work." + +He laughed at that. "When do you want to begin?" + +"Very soon," she said energetically. "Tomorrow if you like. I +don't think much of Brennerstadt, do you? It's such a barren sort +of place." He looked at her. "I believe you'll hate the winter on +the farm." + +"No, I shan't. I shan't hate anything. I'm not so silly as to +expect paradise all the time." + +"Is this paradise?" said Burke. + +She glanced at him quickly. "No, I didn't say that. But I am +enjoying it. And," she flushed slightly, "I am very grateful to +you for making that possible." + +"You've nothing to be grateful to me for," he said. + +"Only I can't help it," said Sylvia. + +Burke's eyes were scanning the far stretch of _veldt_ towards the +sinking sun, with a piercing intentness. She wondered what he was +looking for. + +There fell a silence between them, and a vague feeling of +uneasiness began to grow up within her. His brown face was +granite-like in its immobility, but it was exceedingly grim. + +Something stirred within her at last, impelling her to action. She +got up. + +"Do you see that blasted tree right away over there with horrid +twisted arms that look as if they are trying to clutch at +something?" + +His eyes came up to hers on the instant. "What of it?" he said. + +She laughed down at him. "Let's mount! I'll race you to it." + +He leapt to his feet like, a boy. "What's the betting?" + +"Anything you like!" she threw back gaily. "Whoever gets there +first can fix the stakes." + +He laughed aloud, and the sound of his laugh made her catch her +breath with a sharp, involuntary start. She ran to her mount +feeling as if Guy were behind her, and with an odd perversity she +would not look round to disillusion herself. + +During the fevered minutes that followed, the illusion possessed +her strongly, so strongly that she almost forgot the vital +importance of being first. It was the thudding hoofs of his +companion that made her animal gallop rather than any urging of +hers. But once started, with the air swirling past her and the +excitement of rapid motion setting her veins on fire, the spirit of +the race caught her again, and she went like the wind. + +The blasted tree stood on a slope nearly a mile away. The ground +was hard, and the grass seemed to crackle under the galloping +hoofs. The horse she rode carried her with superb ease. He was +the finest animal she had ever ridden, and from the first she +believed the race was hers. + +On she went through the orange glow of evening. It was like a +swift entrancing dream. And the years fell away from her as if +they had never been, and she and Guy were racing over the slopes of +her father's park, as they had raced in the old sweet days of youth +and early love. She heard him urging his horse behind her, and +remembered how splendid he always looked in the saddle. + +The distance dwindled. The stark arms of the naked tree seemed to +be stretching out to receive her. But he was drawing nearer also. +She could hear the thunder of his animal's hoofs close behind. She +bent low in the saddle, gasping encouragement to her own. + +There came a shout beside her--a yell of triumph such as Guy had +often uttered. He passed her and drew ahead. That fired her. She +saw victory being wrested from her. + +She cried back at him "You--bounder!" and urged her horse to fresh +effort. + +The ground sped away beneath her. The heat-haze seemed to spin +around. Her eyes were fixed upon their goal, her whole being was +concentrated upon reaching it. In the end it was as if the ruined +tree shot towards her. The race was over. A great giddiness came +upon her. She reeled in the saddle. + +And then a hand caught her; or was it one of those outstretched +skeleton arms? For a moment she hung powerless; then she was drawn +close--close--to a man's breast, and felt the leap and throb of a +man's heart against her own. + +Breathless and palpitating, she lifted her face. His eyes looked +deeply into hers, eyes that glowed like molten steel, and in an +instant her illusion was swept away. It seemed to her that for the +first time she looked upon Burke Ranger as he was, and her whole +being recoiled in sudden wild dismay from what she saw. + +"Ah! Let me go!" she said. + +He held her still, but his hold slackened. "I won the race," he +said. + +"Yes, but--but it was only a game," she gasped back incoherently. +"You--you can't--you won't----" + +"Kiss you?" he said. "Not if you forbid it." That calmed her very +strangely. His tone was so quiet; it revived her courage. She +uttered a faint laugh. "Is that the stake? I can't refuse to +pay--a debt of honour." + +"Thank you," he said, and she saw a curious smile gleam for a +moment on his face. "That means you are prepared to take me like a +nasty pill, doesn't it? I like your pluck. It's the best thing +about you. But I won't put it to the test this time." + +He made as if he would release her, but with an odd impulse she +checked him. Somehow it was unbearable to be humoured like that. +She looked him straight in the eyes. + +"We are pals, aren't we?" she said. + +The smile still lingered on Burke's face; it had an enigmatical +quality that disquieted her, she could not have said wherefore. +"It's rather an ambiguous term, isn't it?" he said. + +"No, it isn't," she assured him, promptly and Very earnestly. "It +means that we are friends, but we are not in love and we are not +going to pretend we are. At least," she flushed suddenly under his +look, "that is what it means to me." + +"I see," said Burke. "And what would happen if we fell in love +with each other?" + +Her eyes sank in spite of her. "I don't think we need consider +that," she said. + +"Why not?" said Burke. + +"I could never be in love with anyone again," she said, her voice +very low. + +"Quite sure?" said Burke. + +Something in his tone made her look up sharply. His eyes were +intently and critically upon her, but the glow had gone out of +them. They told her nothing. + +"Do you think we need discuss this subject?" she asked him uneasily. + +"Not if you prefer to shirk it," he said. She flushed a little. +"But I don't shirk. I'm not that sort." + +"No," he said. "I don't think you are. You may be frightened, but +you won't run away." + +"But I'm not frightened," she asserted boldly, looking him squarely +in the face. "We are friends, you and I. And--we are going to +trust each other. Being married isn't going to make any difference +to us. It was just a matter of convenience and--we are going to +forget it." + +She paused. Burke's face had not altered. He was looking back at +her with perfectly steady eyes. + +"Very simple in theory," he said. "Won't you finish?" + +"That's all," she said lightly. "Except--if you really want to +kiss me now and then--you can do so. Only don't be silly about it!" + +Burke's quick movement of surprise told her that this was +unexpected. The two horses had recovered their wind and begun to +nibble at one another. He checked them with a growling rebuke. +Then very quietly he placed Sylvia's bridle in her hand, and put +her from him. + +"Thank you," he said again. "But you mustn't be too generous at +the outset. I might begin to expect too much. And that would +be--silly of me, wouldn't it?" + +There was no bitterness in voice or action, but there was +unmistakable irony. A curious sense of coldness came upon her, as +if out of the heart a distant storm-cloud an icy breath had reached +her. + +She looked at him rather piteously. "You are not angry?" she said. + +He leaned back in the saddle to knock a blood-sucking fly off his +horse's flank. Then he straightened himself and laughed. + +"No, not in the least," he said. + +She knew that he spoke the truth, yet her heart misgave her. There +was something baffling, something almost sinister to her, in the +very carelessness of his attitude. She turned her horse's head and +walked soberly away. + +He did not immediately follow her, and after a few moments she +glanced back for him. He had dismounted and was scratching +something on the trunk of the blasted tree with a knife. The +withered arms stretched out above his head. They looked weirdly +human in the sunset glow. She wished he would not linger in that +eerie place. + +She waited for him, and he came at length, riding with his head up +and a strange gleam of triumph in his eyes. + +"What were you doing?" she asked him, as he joined her. + +He met her look with a directness oddly disconcerting. "I was +commemorating the occasion, he said. + +"What do you mean?" she said. + +"Never mind now!" said Burke, and took out his pipe. + +The light still lingered in his eyes, firing her to something +deeper than curiosity. She turned her horse abruptly. + +"I am going back to see for myself." + +But in the same moment his hand came out, grasping her bridle. "I +shouldn't do that," he said. "It isn't worth it. Wait till we +come again!" + +"The tree may be gone by then," she objected. + +"In that case you won't have missed much," he rejoined. "Don't go +now!" + +He had his way though she yielded against her will. They turned +their animals towards Brennerstadt, and rode back together over, +the sun-scorched _veldt_. + + + + +PART II + +CHAPTER I + +COMRADES + +Some degree of normality seemed to come back into Sylvia's life +with her return to Blue Hill Farm. She found plenty to do there, +and she rapidly became accustomed to her surroundings. + +It would have been a monotonous and even dreary existence but for +the fact that she rode with Burke almost every evening, and +sometimes in the early morning also, and thus saw a good deal of +the working of the farm. Her keen interest in horses made a strong +bond of sympathy between them. She loved them all. The mares and +their foals were a perpetual joy to her, and she begged hard to be +allowed to try her powers at breaking in some of the young animals. +Burke, however, would not hear of this. He was very kind to her, +unfailingly considerate in his treatment of her, but by some means +he made her aware that his orders were to be respected. The Kaffir +servants were swift to do his bidding, though she did not find them +so eager to fulfil their duties when he was not at hand. + +She laughingly commented upon this one day to Burke, and he amazed +her by pointing to the riding-whip she chanced to be holding at the +time. + +"You'll find that's the only medicine for that kind of thing," he +said. "Give 'em a taste of that and they'll respect you!" + +She decided he must be joking, but only a few days later he quite +undeceived her on that point by dragging Joe, the house boy, into +the yard and chastising him with a _sjambok_ for some neglected +duty. + +Joe howled lustily, and Sylvia yearned to fly to the rescue, but +there was something so judicial about Burke's administration of +punishment that she did not venture to intervene. + +When he came in a little later, she was sitting in their +living-room nervously stitching at the sleeve of a shirt that he +had managed to tear on some barbed wire. He had his pipe in his +hand, and there was an air of grim satisfaction about him that +seemed to denote a consciousness of something well done. + +Sylvia set her mouth hard and stitched rapidly, trying to forget +Joe's piercing yells of a few minutes before. Burke went to the +window and stood there, pensively filling his pipe. + +Suddenly, as if something in her silence struck him, he turned and +looked at her. She felt his eyes upon her though she did not raise +her own. + +After a moment or two he came to her. "What are you doing there?" +he said. + +It was the first piece of work she had done for him. She glanced +up. "Mending your shirt," she told him briefly. + +He laid his hand abruptly upon it. "What are you doing that for? +I don't want you to mend my things." + +"Oh, don't be silly, Burke!" she said. "You can't go in tatters. +Please don't hinder me! I want to get it done." + +She spoke with a touch of sharpness, not feeling very kindly +disposed towards him at the moment. She was still somewhat +agitated, and she wished with all her heart that he would go and +leave her alone. + +She almost said as much in the next, breath as he did not remove +his hand. "Why don't you go and shoot something? There's plenty +of time before supper." + +"What's the matter?" said Burke. + +"Nothing," she returned, trying to remove her work from his grasp. + +"Nothing!" he echoed. "Then why am I told not to be silly, not to +hinder you, and to go and shoot something?" + +Sylvia sat up in her chair, and faced him. "If you must have it--I +think you've been--rather brutal," she said, lifting her clear eyes +to his. "No doubt you had plenty of excuse, but that doesn't +really justify you. At least--I don't think so." + +He met her look in his usual direct fashion. Those eagle eyes of +his sent a little tremor through her. There was a caged fierceness +about them that strangely stirred her. + +He spoke after the briefest pause with absolute gentleness. "All +right, little pal! It's decent of you to put it like that. You're +quite wrong, but that's a detail. You'll change your views when +you've been in the country a little longer. Now forget it, and +come for a ride!" + +It was disarmingly kind, and Sylvia softened in spite of herself. +She put her hand on his arm. "Burke, you won't do it again?" she +said. + +He smiled a little. "It won't be necessary for some time to come. +If you did the same to Fair Rosamond now and then you would +marvellously improve her. Idle little cuss!" + +"I never shall," said Sylvia with emphasis. + +He heaved a sigh. "Then I shall have to kick her out I suppose. I +can see she is wearing your temper to a fine edge." + +She bit her lip for a second, and then laughed. "Oh, go away, do? +You're very horrid. Rose may be trying sometimes, but I can put up +with her." + +"You can't manage her," said Burke. + +"Anyway, you are not to interfere," she returned with spirit. +"That's my department." + +He abandoned the discussion. "Well, I leave it to you, partner. +You're not to sit here mending shirts anyhow. I draw the line at +that." + +Sylvia's delicate chin became suddenly firm. "I never leave a +thing unfinished," she said. "You will have to ride alone this +evening." + +"I refuse," said Burke. + +She opened her eyes wide. "Really"--she began. + +"Yes, really," he said. "Put the thing away! It's a sheer fad to +mend it at all. I don't care what I wear, and I'm sure you don't." + +"But I do," she protested. "You must be respectable." + +"But I am respectable--whatever I wear," argued Burke. "It's my +main characteristic." + +His brown hand began to draw the garment in dispute away from her, +but Sylvia held it tight. + +Burke, don't--please--be tiresome! Every woman mends her +husband's clothes if there is no one else to do it. I want to do +it. There!" + +"You don't like doing it!" he challenged. + +"It's my duty," she maintained. + +He gave her an odd look. "And do you always do--your duty?" + +"I try to," she said. + +"Always?" he insisted. + +Something in his eyes gave her pause. She wanted to turn her own +aside, but could not. "To--to the best of my ability," she +stammered. + +He looked ironical for an instant, and then abruptly he laughed and +released her work. "Bless your funny little heart!" he said. "Peg +away, if you want to! It looks rather as if you're starting at the +wrong end, but, being a woman, no doubt you will get there +eventually." + +That pierced her. It was Guy--Guy in the flesh--tenderly taunting +her with some feminine weakness. So swift and so sharp was the +pain that she could not hide it. She bent her face over her work +with a quick intake of the breath. + +"Why--Sylvia!" he said, bending over her. + +She drew away from him. "Don't--please! I--I am foolish. +Don't--take any notice!" + +He stood up again, but his hand found her shoulder and rubbed it +comfortingly. "What is it, partner? Tell a fellow!" he urged, his +tone an odd mixture of familiarity and constraint. + +She fought with herself, and at last told him. "You--you--you were +so like--Guy--just then." + +"Oh, damn Guy!" he said lightly. "I am much more like myself at +all times. Cheer up, partner! Don't cry for the moon!" + +She commanded herself and looked up at him with a quivering smile. +"It is rather idiotic, isn't it? And ungrateful too. You are very +good not to lose patience." + +"Oh, I am very patient," said Burke with a certain grimness. "But +look here! Must you mend that shirt? I've got another somewhere." + +Her smile turned to a laugh. She sprang up with a lithe, impulsive +movement, "Come along then! Let's go! I don't know why you want +to be bothered with me, I'm sure. But I'll come." + +She took him by the arm and went with him from the room. + +They rode out across Burke's land. The day had been one of burning +heat. Sylvia turned instinctively towards the _kopje_ that always +attracted her. It had an air of aloofness that drew her fancy. "I +must climb that very early some morning," she said, "in time for +the sunrise." + +"It will mean literal climbing," said Burke. "It's too steep for a +horse." + +"Oh, I don't mind that," she said. "I have a steady head. But I +want to get round it tonight. I've never been round it yet. What +is there on the other side?" + +"_Veldt_," he said. + +She made a face. And then _veldt_--and then _veldt_. Plenty of +nice, sandy karoo where all the sand-storms come from! But there +are always the hills beyond. I am going to explore them some day." + +"May I come too?" he said. + +She smiled at him. "Of course, partner. We will have a castle +right at the top of the world, shall we? There will be mountain +gorges and great torrents, and ferns and rhododendrons everywhere. +And a little further still, a great lake like an inland sea with +sandy shores and very calm water with the blue sky or the stars +always in it." + +"And what will the castle be like?" he said. + +Sylvia's eyes were on the far hills as they rode. "The castle?" +she said. "Oh, the castle will be of grey granite--the sparkling +sort, very cool inside, with fountains playing everywhere; spacious +rooms of course, and very lofty--always lots of air and no dust." + +"Shall I be allowed to smoke a pipe in them?" asked Burke. + +"You will do exactly what you like all day long," she told him +generously. + +"So long as I don't get in your way," he suggested. + +She laughed a little. "Oh, we shall be too happy for that. +Besides, you can have a farm or two to look after. There won't be +any dry watercourses there like that," pointing with her whip. +"That is what you call a '_spruit_,' isn't it?" + +"You are getting quite learned," he said. "Yes, that is a _spruit_ +and that is a _kopje_." + +"And that?" She pointed farther on suddenly. "What is that just +above the watercourse? Is it a Kaffir hut?" + +"No," said Burke. + +He spoke somewhat shortly. The object she indicated was +undoubtedly a hut; to Sylvia's unaccustomed eyes it might have been +a cattle-shed. It was close to the dry watercourse, a little +lonely hovel standing among stones and a straggling growth of +coarse grass. + +Something impelled Sylvia to check her horse. She glanced at her +companion as if half-afraid. "What is it?" she said. "It--looks +like a hermit's cell. Who lives there?" + +"No one at the present moment," said Burke. + +His eyes were fixed straight ahead. He spoke curtly, as if against +his will. + +"But who generally--" began Sylvia, and then she stopped and turned +suddenly white to the lips. + +"I--see," she said, in an odd, breathless whisper. + +Burke spoke without looking at her. "It's just a cabin. He built +it himself the second year he was out here. He had been living at +the farm, but he wanted to get away from me, wanted to go his own +way without interference. Perhaps I went too far in that line. +After all, it was no business of mine. But I can't stand tamely by +and see a white man deliberately degrading himself to the Kaffir +level. It was as well he went. I should have skinned him sooner +or later if he hadn't. He realized that. So did I. So we agreed +to part." + +So briefly and baldly Burke stated the case, and every sentence he +uttered was a separate thrust in the heart of the white-faced girl +who sat her horse beside him, quite motionless, with burning eyes +fixed upon the miserable little hovel that had enshrined the idol +she had worshipped for so long. + +She lifted her bridle at last without speaking a word and walked +her animal forward through the sparse grass and the stones. Burke +moved beside her, still gazing straight ahead, as if he were alone. + +They went down to the cabin, and Sylvia dismounted. The only +window space was filled with wire-netting instead of glass, and +over this on the inside a piece of cloth had been firmly fastened +so that no prying eyes could look in. The door was locked and +padlocked. It was evident that the owner had taken every +precaution against intrusion. + +And yet--though he lived in this wretched place at which even a +Kaffir might have looked askance--he had sent her that message +telling her to come to him. This fact more than any other that she +had yet encountered brought home to her the bitter, bitter truth of +his failure. Out of the heart of the wilderness, out of desolation +unspeakable, he had sent that message. And she had answered it--to +find him gone. + +The slow hot tears welled up and ran down her face. She was not +even aware of them. Only at last she faced the desolation, in its +entirety, she drank the cup to its dregs. It was here that he had +taken the downward road. It was here that he had buried his +manhood. When she turned away at length, she felt as if she had +been standing by his grave. + +Burke waited for her and helped her to mount again in utter +silence. Only as she lifted the bridle again he laid his hand for +a moment on her knee. It was a dumb act of sympathy which she +could not acknowledge lest she should break down utterly. But it +sent a glow of comfort to her hurt and aching heart. He had given +her a comrade's sympathy just when she needed it most. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE VISITORS + +It was after that ride to Guy's hut that Sylvia began at last to +regard him as connected only with that which was past. It was as +if a chapter in her life had closed when she turned away from that +solitary hut in the wilderness. She said to herself that the man +she had known and loved was dead, and she did not after that +evening suffer her thoughts voluntarily to turn in his direction. +Soberly she took up the burden of life. She gathered up the reins +of government, and assumed the ordering of Burke Ranger's +household. She did not again refer to Guy in his presence, though +there were times when his step, his voice, above all, his whistle, +stabbed her to poignant remembrance. + +He also avoided the subject of Guy, treating her with a careless +kindliness that set her wholly at ease with him. She learned more +and more of the working of the farm, and her interest in the young +creatures grew daily. She loved to accompany him on his rides of +inspection in the early mornings showing herself so apt a pupil +that he presently dubbed her his overseer, and even at last +entrusted her occasionally with such errands as only a confidential +overseer could execute. + +It was when returning from one of these somewhat late one blazing +morning that she first encountered their nearest British neighbours +from a farm nearly twelve miles distant. It was a considerable +shock to her to find them in possession of the _stoep_ when she +rode up, but the sight of the red-faced Englishman who strode out +to meet her reassured her in a moment. + +"How do you do, Mrs. Ranger? We've just come over to pay our +respects," he announced in a big, hearty voice. "You'll hardly +believe it, but we've only recently heard of Burke's marriage. +It's been a nine days' wonder with us, but now I've seen you I +cease to marvel at anything but Burke's amazing luck." + +There was something so engagingly naive in this compliment that +Sylvia found it impossible to be formal. She smiled and slipped to +the ground. + +"You are Mr. Merston," she said. "How kind of you to come over! I +am afraid I am alone at present, but Burke is sure to be in soon. +I hope you have had some refreshment." + +She gave her horse to a Kaffir boy, and went with her new friend up +the steps of the _stoep_. + +"My wife!" said Merston in his jolly voice. + +Sylvia went forward with an eagerness that wilted in spite of her +before she reached its object. Mrs. Merston did not rise to meet +her. She sat prim and upright and waited for her greeting, and +Sylvia knew in a moment before their hands touched each other that +here was no kindred spirit. + +"How do you do?" said Mrs. Merston formally. + +She was a little woman, possibly ten years Sylvia's senior, with a +face that had once been pink and white and now was the colour of +pale brick all over. Her eyes were pale and seemed to carry a +perpetual grievance. Her nose was straight and very thin, rather +pinched at the nostrils. Her lips were thin and took a bitter +downward curve. Her hair was quite colourless, almost like ashes; +it had evidently once been light gold. + +The hand she extended to Sylvia was so thin that she thought she +could feel the bones rubbing together. Her skin was hot and very +dry. + +"I hope you like this horrible country," she said. + +"Oh, come, Matilda!" her husband protested. + +"That's not a very cheery greeting for a newcomer!" + +She closed her thin lips without reply, and the downward curve +became very unpleasantly apparent. + +"I haven't found out all its horrors yet," said Sylvia lightly. +"It's a very thirsty place, I think, anyway just now. Have you had +anything?" + +"We've only just got here," said Merston. + +"Oh, I must see to it!" said Sylvia, and hastened within. + +"Looks a jolly sort of girl," observed Merston to his wife. +"Wonder how--and when--Burke managed to catch her. He hasn't been +home for ten years and she can't be five-and-twenty." + +"She probably did the catching," remarked his wife tersely. "But +she will soon wish she hadn't." + +Sylvia returned two minutes later bearing a tray of which Merston +hastened to relieve her. + +"We're wondering--my wife and I--how Burke had the good fortune to +get married to you," he said. "You're new to this country, aren't +you? And he hasn't been out of it as long as I have known him." + +Sylvia looked up at him in momentary confusion. Then she laughed. + +"We picked each other up at Ritzen," she said. + +"Ritzen!" he echoed in amazement, "What on earth took you there?" +Then hastily, "I say, I beg your pardon. You must forgive my +impertinence. But you look so awfully like a duchess in your own +right, I couldn't help being surprised." + +"Well, have a drink!" said Sylvia lightly. "I'm not a duchess in +my own right or anything else, except Burke's wife. We're running +this farm together on the partner system. I'm junior partner of +course. Burke tells me what to do, and I do it." + +"You'll soon lose your complexion if you go out riding in this heat +and dust," said Mrs. Merston. + +"Oh, I hope not," Sylvia laughed again. "If I do, I daresay I +shan't miss it much. It's rather fun to feel that sort of thing +doesn't matter. Ah, here is Burke coming now!" She glanced up at +the thudding of his horse's hoofs. + +Merston went out again into the blinding sunlight to greet his +host, and Sylvia turned to the thin, pinched woman beside her. + +"I expect you would like to come inside and take off your hat and +wash. It is hot, isn't it? Shall we go in and get respectable?" + +She spoke with that winning friendliness of hers that few could +resist. Mrs. Merston's lined face softened almost in spite of +itself. She got up. But she could not refrain from flinging +another acid remark as she did so. + +"I really think if Englishmen must live in South Africa, they ought +to be content with Boer wives." + +"Oh, should you like your husband to have married a Boer wife?" +said Sylvia. + +Mrs. Merston smiled grimly. "You are evidently still in the fool's +paradise stage. Make the most of it! It won't last long. The men +out here have other things to think about." + +"I should hope so," said Sylvia energetically. "And the women, +too, I should think. I should imagine that there is very little +time for philandering out here." + +Mrs. Merston uttered a bitter laugh as she followed her in. "There +is very little time for anything, Mrs. Ranger. It is drudgery from +morning till night." + +"Oh, I haven't found that yet," said Sylvia. + +She had led her visitor into the guest-room which she had occupied +since her advent. It was not quite such a bare apartment as it had +been on that first night. All her personal belongings were +scattered about, and the severely masculine atmosphere had been +completely driven forth. + +"I'm afraid it isn't very tidy in here," she said. "I generally +see to things later. I don't care to turn the Kaffir girl loose +among my things." + +Mrs. Merston looked around her. "And where does your husband +sleep?" she said. + +"Across the passage. His room is about the same size as this. +They are not very big, are they?" + +"You are very lucky to have such a home," said Mrs. Merston. "Ours +is nothing but a corrugated iron shed divided into two parts." + +"Really?" Sylvia opened her eyes. "That doesn't sound very nice +certainly. Haven't you got a verandah even--I beg its pardon, a +_stoep_?" + +"We have nothing at all that makes for comfort," declared Mrs. +Merston, with bitter emphasis. "We live like pigs in a sty!" + +"Good heavens!" said Sylvia. "I shouldn't like that." + +"No, you wouldn't. It takes a little getting used to. But you'll +go through the mill presently. All we farmers' wives do. You and +Burke Ranger won't go on in this Garden of Eden style very long." + +Sylvia laughed with a touch of uncertainty. "I suppose it's a +mistake to expect too much of life anywhere," she said. "But it's +difficult to be miserable when one is really busy, isn't it? +Anyhow one can't be bored." + +"Are you really happy here?" Mrs. Merston asked point-blank, in the +tone of one presenting a challenge. + +Sylvia paused for a moment, only a moment, and then she answered, +"Yes." + +"And you've been married how long? Six weeks?" + +"About that," said Sylvia. + +Mrs. Merston looked at her, and an almost cruel look came into her +pale eyes. "Ah! You wait a little!" she said. "You're young now. +You've got all your vitality still in your veins. Wait till this +pitiless country begins to get hold of you! Wait till you begin to +bear children, and all your strength is drained out of you, and you +still have to keep on at the same grinding drudgery till you're +ready to drop, and your husband comes in and laughs at you and +tells you to buck up, when you haven't an ounce of energy left in +you! See how you like the prison-house then! All your young +freshness gone and nothing left--nothing left!" + +She spoke with such force that Sylvia felt actually shocked. Yet +still with that instinctive tact of hers, she sought to smooth the +troubled waters. "Oh, have you children?" she said. "How many? +Do tell me about them!" + +"I have had six," said Mrs. Merston dully. "They are all dead." + +She clenched her hands at Sylvia's quick exclamation of pity, but +she gave no other sign of emotion. + +"They all die in infancy," she said. "It's partly the climate, +partly that I am overworked--worn out. He--" with infinite +bitterness--"can't see it. Men don't--or won't. You'll find that +presently. It's all in front of you. I don't envy you in the +least, Mrs. Ranger. I daresay you think there is no one in the +world like your husband. Young brides always do. But you'll find +out presently. Men are all selfish where their own pleasures are +concerned. And Burke Ranger is no exception to the rule. He has a +villainous temper, too. Everyone knows that." + +"Oh, don't tell me that!" said Sylvia gently. "He and I are +partners, you know. Let me put a little _eau-de-cologne_ in that +water! It's so refreshing." + +Mrs. Merston scarcely noticed the small service. She was too +intent upon her work of destruction. "You don't know him--yet," +she said. "But anyone you meet can tell you the same. Why, he had +a young cousin here--such a nice boy--and he sent him straight to +the bad with his harsh treatment,--_sjamboked_ him and turned him +out of the house for some slight offence. Yes, no wonder you look +scandalized; but I assure you it's true. Guy Ranger was none too +steady, I know. But that was absolutely the finishing touch. He +was never the same again." + +She paused. Sylvia was very white, but her eyes were quite +resolute, unfailingly steadfast. + +"Please don't tell me any more!" she said. "Whatever Burke did +was--was from a good motive. I know that. I know him. And--I +don't want to have any unkind feelings towards him." + +"You prefer to remain blind?" said Mrs. Merston with her bitter +smile, + +"Yes--yes," Sylvia said. + +"Then you are building your house on the sand," said Mrs. Merston, +and turned from her with a shrug. "And great will be the fall +thereof." + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE BARGAIN + +THE visitors did not leave until the sun was well down in the west. +To Sylvia it had been an inexplicably tiring day, and when they +departed at length she breathed a wholly unconscious sigh of relief. + +"Come for a ride!" said Burke. + +She shook her head. "No, thank you. I think I will have a rest." + +"All right. I'll smoke a pipe on the _stoep_," he said. + +He had been riding round his land with Merston during the greater +part of the afternoon, and it did not surprise her that he seemed +to think that he also had earned a quiet evening. But curiously +his decision provoked in her an urgent desire to ride alone. A +pressing need for solitude was upon her. She yearned to get right +away by herself. + +She went to her room, however, and lay down for a while, trying to +take the rest she needed; but when presently she heard the voice of +Hans Schafen, his Dutch foreman, talking on the verandah, she arose +with a feeling of thankfulness, donned her sun-hat, and slipped out +of the bungalow. It was hot for walking, but it was a relief to +get away from the house. She knew it was quite possible that Burke +would see her go, but she believed he would be too engrossed with +business for some time to follow her. It was quite possible he +would not wish to do so, but she had a feeling that this was not +probable. He generally sought her out in his leisure hours. + +Almost instinctively she turned her steps in the direction of the +kopje which she had so often desired to climb. It rose steep from +the _veldt_ like some lonely tower in the wilderness. +Curious-shaped rocks cropped out unexpectedly on its scarred sides +and a few prickly pear bushes stood up here and there like weird +guardians of the rugged stronghold. Sylvia had an odd feeling that +they watched her with unfriendly attention as she approached. +Though solitude girt her round, she did not feel herself to be +really alone. + +It took her some time to reach it, for the ground was rough and +sandy under her feet, and it was farther away than it looked. She +realized as she drew nearer that to climb to the round summit would +be no easy task, but that fact did not daunt her. She felt the +need for strenuous exercise just then. + +The shadows were lengthening, and the full glare of the sun no +longer smote upon her. She began to climb with some energy. But +she soon found that she had undertaken a greater task than she had +anticipated. The way was steep, and here and there the boulders +seemed to block further progress completely. She pressed on with +diminishing speed, taking a slanting upward course that presently +brought her into the sun again and in view of the little cabin +above the stony watercourse that had sheltered Guy for so long. + +The sight of it seemed to take all the strength out of her. She +sat down on a rock to rest. All day long she had been forcing the +picture that Mrs. Merston had painted for her into the background +of her thoughts. All day long it had been pressing forward in +spite of her. It seemed to be burning her brain, and now she could +not ignore it any longer. Sitting there exhausted in mind and +body, she had to face it in all its crudeness. She had to meet and +somehow to conquer the sickening sensation of revolt that had come +upon her. + +She sat there for a long time, till the sun sank low in the sky and +a wondrous purple glow spread across the _veldt_. She knew that it +was growing late, that Burke would be expecting her for the evening +meal, but she could not summon the strength she needed to end her +solitary vigil on the _kopje_. She had a feeling as of waiting for +something. Though she was too tired to pray, yet it seemed to her +that a message was on its way. She watched the glory in the west +with an aching intensity that possessed her to the exclusion of +aught beside. Somehow, even in the midst of her weariness and +depression, she felt sure that help would come. + +The glory began to wane, and a freshness blew across the _veldt_. +Somewhere on the very top of the _kopje_ a bird uttered a +twittering note. She turned her face, listening for the answer, +and found Burke seated on another boulder not six yards away. + +So unexpected was the sight that she caught her breath in +astonishment and a sharp instinctive sense of dismay. He was not +looking at her, but gazing forth to the distant hills like an eagle +from its eyrie. His eyes had the look of seeing many things that +were wholly beyond her vision. + +She sat in silence, a curious feeling of embarrassment upon her, as +if she looked upon something which she was not meant to see and yet +could not turn from. His brown face was so intent, almost terribly +keen. The lines about the mouth were drawn with ruthless +distinctness. It was the face of a hunter, and the iron resolution +of it sent an odd quiver that was almost of foreboding through her +heart. + +And then suddenly he turned his head slightly, as if he felt her +look upon him, and like a knife-thrust his eyes came down to hers. +She felt the hot colour rush over her face as if she had been +caught in some act of trespass. Her confusion consumed her, she +could not have said wherefore. She looked swiftly away. + +Quietly he left his rock and came to her. + +She shrank at his coming. The pulse in her throat was throbbing as +if it would choke her. She wanted to spring up and flee down the +hill. But he was too near. She sat very still, her fingers +gripping each other about her knees, saying no word. + +He reached her and stood looking down at her. "I followed you," he +said, "because I knew you would never get to the top alone." + +She lifted her face, striving against her strange agitation. "I +wasn't thinking of going any further," she said, struggling to +speak indifferently. "It--is steeper than I thought." + +"It aways is," said Burke. + +He sat down beside her, close to her. She made a small, +instinctive movement away from him, but he did not seem to notice. +He took off his hat and laid it down. + +"I'm sorry Mrs. Merston had to be inflicted on you for so long," he +said. "I'm afraid she is not exactly cheery company." + +"I didn't mind," said Sylvia. + +He gave her a faintly whimsical look. "Not utterly fed up with +Africa and all her beastly ways?" he questioned. + +She shook her head. "I don't think I am so easily swayed as all +that." + +"You would rather stay here with me than go back home to England?" +he said. + +Her eyes went down to the lonely hut on the sand. "Why do you ask +me that?" she said, in a low voice. + +"Because I want to know," said Burke. + +Sylvia was silent. + +He went on after a moment. "I've a sort of notion that Mrs. +Merston is not a person to spread contentment around her under any +circumstances. If she lived in a palace at the top of the world +she wouldn't be any happier." + +Sylvia smiled faintly at the allusion. "I don't think she has very +much to make her happy," she said. It's a little hard to judge her +under present conditions." + +"She's got one of the best for a husband anyway," he maintained. + +"Do you think that's everything?" said Sylvia. + +"No, I don't," said Burke unexpectedly. "I think he spoils her, +which is bad for any woman. It turns her head in the beginning and +sours her afterwards." + +Sylvia turned at that and regarded him, a faint light of mockery in +her eyes. "What a lot you know about women!" she remarked. + +He laughed in a way she did not understand. "If I had a wife," he +said, "I'd make her happy, but not on those lines." + +"I thought you had one," said Sylvia. + +He met her eyes with a sudden mastery which made her flinch in +spite of herself. "No," he said, "I've only a make-believe at +present. Not very satisfying of course; but better than nothing. +There is always the hope that she may some day turn into the real +thing to comfort me." + +His words went into silence. Sylvia's head was bent. + +After a moment he leaned a little towards her, and spoke almost in +a whisper. "I feel as if I have caught a very rare, shy bird," he +said. "I'm trying to teach it to trust me, but it takes a mighty +lot of time and patience. Do you think I shall ever succeed, +Sylvia? Do you think it will ever come and nestle against my +heart?" + +Again his words went into silence. The girl's eyes were fixed upon +the stretch of sandy _veldt_ below her and that which it held. + +Silently the man watched her, his keen eyes very steady, very +determined. + +She lifted her own at last, and met them with brave directness. +"You know, partner," she said, "it isn't very fair of you to ask me +such a thing as that. You can't have--everything." + +"All right," said Burke, and felt in his pocket for his pipe. +"Consider it unsaid!" + +His abrupt acceptance of her remonstrance was curiously +disconcerting. The mastery of his look had led her to expect +something different. She watched him dumbly as he filled his pipe +with quiet precision. + +Finally, as he looked at her again, she spoke. "I don't want to +seem over-critical--ungrateful, but--" her breath came +quickly--"though you have been so awfully good to me, I can't help +feeling--that you might have done more for Guy, if--if you had been +kinder when he went wrong. And--" her eyes filled with sudden +tears--"that thought spoils--just everything." + +"I see," said Burke, and though his lips were grim his voice was +wholly free from harshness. "Mrs. Merston told you all about it, +did she?" + +Sylvia's colour rose again. She turned slightly from him. "She +didn't say much," she said. + +There was a pause. Then unexpectedly Burke's hand closed over her +two clasped ones. "So I've got to be punished, have I?" he said. + +She shook her head, shrinking a little though she suffered his +touch. "No. Only--I can't forget it,--that's all." + +"Or forgive?" said Burke. + +She swallowed her tears with an effort. "No, not that. I'm not +vindictive. But--oh, Burke--" she turned to him impulsively,--"I +wish--I wish--we could find Guy!" + +He stiffened almost as if at a blow. "Why?" he demanded sternly. + +For a moment his look awed her, but only for a moment; the longing +in her heart was so great as to overwhelm all misgiving. She +grasped his arm tightly between her hands. + +"If we could only find him--and save him--save him somehow from the +horrible pit he seems to have fallen into! We could do it between +us--I feel sure we could do it---if only--if only--we could find +him!" + +Breathlessly her words rushed out. It seemed as if she had +stumbled almost inadvertently upon the solution of the problem that +had so tormented her. She marvelled now that she had ever been +able to endure inaction with regard to Guy. She was amazed at +herself for having been so easily content. It was almost as if in +that moment she heard Guy's voice very far away, calling to her for +help. + +And then, swift as a lightning-flash, striking dismay to her soul, +came the consciousness of Burke gazing straight at her with that in +his eyes which she could not--dare not--meet. + +She gripped his arm a little tighter. She was quivering from head +to foot. "We could do it between us," she breathed again. +"Wouldn't it be worth it? Oh, wouldn't it be worth it?" + +But Burke spoke no word. He sat rigid, looking at her. + +A feeling of coldness ran through her--such a feeling as she had +experienced on her wedding-day under the skeleton-tree, the chill +that comes from the heart of a storm. Slowly she relaxed her hold +upon him. Her tears were gone, but she felt choked, unlike +herself, curiously impotent. + +"Shall we go back?" she said. + +She made as if she would rise, but he stayed her with a gesture, +and her weakness held her passive. + +"So you have forgiven him!" he said. + +His tone was curt. He almost flung the words. + +She braced herself, instinctively aware of coming strain. But she +answered him gently. "You can't be angry with a person when you +are desperately sorry for him." + +"I see. And you hold me in a great measure responsible for his +fall? I am to make good, am I?" + +He did not raise his voice, but there was something in it that made +her quail. She looked up at him in swift distress. + +"No, no! Of course not--of course not! Partner, please don't glare +at me like that! What have I done?" + +He dropped his eyes abruptly from her startled face, and there +followed a silence so intense that she thought he did not even +breathe. + +Then, in a very low voice: "You've raised Cain," he said. + +She shivered. There was something terrible in the atmosphere. +Dumbly she waited, feeling that protest would but make matters +worse. + +He turned himself from her at length, and sat with his chin on his +hands, staring out to the fading sunset. + +When he spoke finally, the hard note had gone out of his voice. +"Do you think it's going to make life any easier to bring that +young scoundrel back?" + +"I wasn't thinking of that," she said, "It was only--" she +hesitated. + +"Only?" said Burke, without turning. + +With difficulty she answered him. "Only that probably you and I +are the only people in the world who could do anything to help him. +And so--somehow it seems our job." + +Burke digested this in silence. Then: "And what are you going to +do with him when you've got him?" he enquired. + +Again she hesitated, but only momentarily. "I shall want you to +help me, partner," she said appealingly. + +He made a slight movement that passed unexplained. "You may find +me--rather in the way--before you've done," he said. + +"Then you won't help me?" she said, swift disappointment in her +voice. + +He turned round to her. His face was grim, but it held no anger. +"You've asked a pretty hard thing of me," he said. "But--yes, I'll +help you." + +"You will?" She held out her hand to him. "Oh, partner, thank +you--awfully!" + +He gripped her hand hard. "On one condition," he said. + +"Oh, what?" She started a little and her face whitened. + +He squeezed her fingers with merciless force. "Just that you will +play a straight game with me," he said briefly. + +The colour came back to her face with a rush. "That!" she said. +"But of course--of course! I always play a straight game." + +"Then it's a bargain?" he said. + +Her clear eyes met his. "Yes, a bargain. But how shall we ever +find him?" + +He was silent for a moment, and she felt as if those steel-grey +eyes of his were probing for her soul. "That," he said slowly, +"will not be a very difficult business." + +"You know where he is?" she questioned eagerly. + +"Yes. Merston told me to-day." + +"Oh, Burke!" The eager kindling of her look made her radiant. +"Where is he? What is he doing?" + +He still looked at her keenly, but all emotion had gone from his +face. "He is tending a bar in a miners' saloon at Brennerstadt." + +"Ah!"' She stood up quickly to hide the sudden pain his words had +given. "But we can soon get him out. You--you will get him out, +partner?" + +He got to his feet also. The sun had passed, and only a violet +glow remained. He seemed to be watching it as he answered her. + +"I will do my best." + +"You are good," she said very earnestly. "I wonder if you have the +least idea how grateful I feel." + +"I can guess," he said in a tone of constraint. + +She was standing slightly above him. She placed her hand shyly on +his shoulder. "And you won't hate it so very badly?" she urged +softly. "It is in a good cause, isn't it?" + +"I hope so," he said. + +He seemed unaware of her hand upon him. She pressed a little. +"Burke!" + +"Yes?" He still stood without looking at her. + +She spoke nervously. "I--I shan't forget--ever--that I am married. +You--you needn't be afraid of--of anything like that." + +He turned with an odd gesture. "I thought you were going to forget +it--that you had forgotten it--for good." + +His voice had a strained, repressed sound. He spoke almost as if +he were in pain. + +She tried to smile though her heart was beating fast and hard. +"Well, I haven't. And--I never shall now. So that's all right, +isn't it? Say it's all right!" + +There was more of pleading in her voice than she knew. A great +tremor went through Burke. He clenched his hands to subdue it. + +"Yes; all right, little pal, all right," he said. + +His voice sounded strangled; it pierced her oddly. With a sudden +impetuous gesture she slid her arm about his neck, and for one +lightning moment her lips touched his cheek. The next instant she +had sprung free and was leaping downwards from rock to rock like a +startled gazelle. + +At the foot of the _kopje_ only did she stop and wait. He was +close behind her, moving with lithe, elastic strides where she had +bounded. + +She turned round to him boyishly. "We'll climb to the top one of +these days, partner; but I'm not in training yet. Besides,--we're +late for supper." + +"I can wait," said Burke. + +She linked her little finger in his, swinging it carelessly. There +was absolute confidence in her action; only her eyes avoided his. + +"You're jolly decent to me," she said. "I often wonder why." + +"You'll know one day," said Burke very quietly. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE CAPTURE + +A dust-storm had been blowing practically all day, and the mining +crowds of Brennerstadt were thirsty to a man. They congregated at +every bar with the red sand thick upon them, and cursed the country +and the climate with much heartiness and variety. + +Burke Ranger was one of the thirstiest when he reached the town +after his ride through the desert--a ride upon which he had flatly +refused to allow Sylvia to accompany him. He went straight to the +hotel where he had stayed for his marriage, and secured a room. +Then he went down to the dining-room, where he was instantly +greeted by an old friend, Kelly, the Irish manager of a diamond +mine in the neighbourhood. + +Kelly was the friend of everyone. He knew everyone's affairs and +gossiped openly with a childlike frankness that few could resent. +Everyone declared he could never keep a secret, yet nearly everyone +confided in him. His goodness of heart was known to all, and he +was regarded as a general arbitrator among the sometimes restless +population of Brennerstadt. + +His delight at seeing Burke was obvious; he hailed him with +acclamations. "I've been meaning to ride over your way for ages," +he declared, his rubicund face shining with geniality as he wrung +his friend's hand hard. "I was up-country when you came along last +with your bride. Dark horse that you are, Burke! I should as soon +have thought of getting married myself, as of seeing you in double +harness." + +Burke laughed his careless laugh. "You'll come to it yet. No fun +in growing old alone in this country." + +"And what's the lady like?" pursued Kelly, keen for news as an +Irish terrier after a rat. "As fair as Eve and twice as charming?" + +"Something that style," agreed Burke. "What are you drinking, old +chap? Any ice to be had?" + +He conferred with the waiter, but Kelly's curiosity was far from +being satisfied. He pounced back upon the subject the moment +Burke's attention was free. + +"And is she new to this part of the world then? She came out to be +married, I take it? And what does she think of it at all?" + +"You'll have to come over and see for yourself," said Burke. + +"So I will, old feller. I'll come on the first opportunity. I'd +love to see the woman who can capture you. Done any shooting +lately, or is wedded bliss still too sweet to leave?" + +"I've had a few other things as well to think about," said Burke +drily, + +"And this is your first absence? What will the missis do without +you?" + +"She'll manage all right. She's very capable. She is helping me +with the farm. The life seems to suit her all right, only I shall +have to see she doesn't work too hard." + +"That you will, my son. This climate's hard on women. Look at +poor Bill Merston's wife! When she came out, she was as pretty and +as sweet as a little wild rose. And now--well, it gives you the +heartache to look at her." + +"Does it?" said Burke grimly. "She doesn't affect me that way. If +I were in Merston's place,--well, she wouldn't look like that for +long." + +"Wouldn't she though?" Kelly looked at him with interest. "You +always were a goer, old man. And what would your treatment consist +of?" + +"Discipline," said Burke briefly. "No woman is happy if she +despises her husband. If I were in Merston's place, I would see to +it that she did not despise me. That's the secret of her trouble. +It's poison to a woman to look down on her husband." + +"Egad!" laughed Kelly. "But you've studied the subject? Well, +here's to the fair lady of your choice! May she fulfil all +expectations and be a comfort to you all the days of your life!" + +"Thanks!" said Burke. "Now let's hear a bit about yourself! How's +the diamond industry?" + +"Oh, there's nothing the matter with it just now. We've turned +over some fine stones in the last few days. Plenty of rubbish, +too, of course. You don't want a first-class speculation, I +presume? If you've got a monkey to spare, I can put you on to +something rather great." + +"Thanks, I haven't," said Burke. "I never have monkeys to spare. +But what's the gamble?" + +"Oh, it's just a lottery of Wilbraham's. He has a notion for +raffling his biggest diamond. The draw won't take place for a few +weeks yet; and then only monkeys need apply. It's a valuable +stone. I can testify to that. It would be worth a good deal more +if it weren't for a flaw that will have to be taken out in the +cutting and will reduce it a lot. But even so, it's worth some +thousands, worth risking a monkey for, Burke. Think what a +splendid present it would be for your wife!" + +Burke laughed and shook his head. "She isn't that sort if I know +her." + +"Bet you you don't know her then," said Kelly, with a grin. "It's +a good sporting chance anyway. I don't fancy there will be many +candidates, for the stone has an evil name." + +Burke looked slightly scornful. "Well, I'm not putting any monkeys +into Wilbraham's pocket, so that won't trouble me. Have you seen +anything of Guy Ranger lately?" + +The question was casually uttered, but it sent a sharp gleam of +interest into Kelly's eyes. "Oh, it's him you've come for, is it?" +he said. "Well, let me tell you this for your information! He's +had enough of Blue Hill Farm for the present." + +Burke said nothing, but his grey eyes had a more steely look than +usual as he digested the news. + +Kelly looked at him curiously. "The boy's a wreck," he said. +"Simply gone to pieces; nerves like fiddle-strings. He drinks like +hell, but it's my belief he'd die in torment if he didn't." + +Still Burke said nothing, and Kelly's curiosity grew. + +"You know what he's doing; don't you?" he said. "He's doing a +Kaffir's job for Kaffir's pay. It's about the vilest hole this +side of perdition, my son. And I'm thinking you won't find it +specially easy to dig him out." + +Burke's eyes came suddenly straight to the face of the Irishman. +He regarded him for a moment or two with a faintly humorous +expression; then: "That's just where you can lend me a hand, +Donovan," he said. "I'm going to ask you to do that part." + +"The deuce you are!" said Kelly. "You're not going to ask much +then, my son. Moreover, it's well on the likely side that he'll +refuse to budge. Better leave him alone till he's tired of it." + +"He's dead sick of it already," said Burke with conviction. "You +go to him and tell him you've a decent berth waiting for him. +He'll come along fast enough then." + +"I doubt it," said Kelly. "I doubt it very much. He's in just the +bitter mood to prefer to wallow. He's right under, Burke, and he +isn't making any fight. He'll go on now till he's dead." + +"He won't!" said Burke shortly. "Where exactly is he? Tell me +that!" + +"He's barkeeping for that brute Hoffstein, and taking out all his +wages in drink. I saw him three days ago. I assure you he's past +help. I believe he'd shoot himself if you took any trouble over +him. He's in a pretty desperate mood." + +"Not he!" said Burke. "I'm going to have him out anyway." + +Again Kelly looked at him speculatively. "Well, what's the +notion?" he asked after a moment, frankly curious. "You've never +worried after him before." + +Burke's eyes were grim. "You may be sure of one thing, Donovan," +he said, "I'm not out for pleasure this journey." + +"I've noted that," observed Kelly. + +"I don't want you to help me if you have anything better to do," +pursued Burke. "I shall get what I've come for in any case." + +"Oh, don't you worry yourself! I'm on," responded Kelly, with his +winning, Irish smile. "When do you want to catch your hare? +Tonight?" + +"Yes; to-night," said Burke soberly. "I'll come down with you to +Hoffstein's, and if you can get him out, I'll do the rest." + +"Hurrah!" crowed Kelly softly, lifting his glass. "Here's luck to +the venture!" + +But though Burke drank with him, his face did not relax. + +A little later they left the hotel together. A strong wind was +still blowing, sprinkling the dust of the desert everywhere. They +pushed their way against it, striding with heads down through the +swirling darkness of the night. + +Hoffstein's bar was in a low quarter of the town and close to the +mine-workings. A place of hideous desolation at all times, the +whirling sandstorm made of it almost an inferno. They scarcely +spoke as they went along, grimly enduring the sand-fiend that stung +and blinded but could not bar their progress. + +As they came within sight of Hoffstein's tavern, they encountered +groups of men coming away, but no one was disposed to loiter on +that night of turmoil; no one accosted them as they approached. +The place was built of corrugated iron, and they heard the sand +whipping against it as they drew near. Kelly paused within a few +yards of the entrance. The door was open and the lights of the bar +flared forth into the darkness. + +"You stop here!" bawled Kelly. "I'll go in and investigate." + +There was an iron fence close to them, affording some degree of +shelter from the blast. Burke stood back against it, dumbly +patient. The other man went on, and in a few seconds his short +square figure passed through the lighted doorway. + +There followed an interval of waiting that seemed interminable--an +interval during which Burke moved not at all, but stood like a +statue against the wall, his hat well down over his eyes, his hands +clenched at his sides. The voices of men drifted to and fro +through the howling night, but none came very near him. + +It must have been nearly half-an-hour later that there arose a +sudden fierce uproar in the bar, and the silent watcher +straightened himself up sharply. The turmoil grew to a babel of +voices, and in a few moments two figures, struggling furiously, +appeared at the open door. They blundered out, locked together +like fighting beasts, and behind them the door crashed to, leaving +them in darkness. + +Burke moved forward. "Kelly, is that you?" + +Kelly's voice, uplifted in lurid anathema, answered him, and in a +couple of seconds Kelly himself lurched into him, nearly hurling +him backwards. "And is it yourself?" cried the Irishman. "Then +help me to hold the damned young scoundrel, for he's fighting like +the devils in hell! Here he is! Get hold of him!" + +Burke took a silent hard grip upon the figure suddenly thrust at +him, and almost immediately the fighting ceased. + +"Let me go!" a hoarse voice said. + +"Hold him tight!" said Kelly. "I'm going to take a rest. Guy, you +young devil, what do you want to murder me for? I've never done +you a harm in my life." + +The man in Burke's grasp said nothing whatever. He was breathing +heavily, but his resistance was over. He stood absolutely passive +in the other man's hold. + +Kelly gave himself an indignant shake and continued his tirade. "I +call all the saints in heaven to witness that as sure as my name is +Donovan Kelly so sure is it that I'll be damned to the last most +nether millstone before ever I'll undertake to dig a man out of +Hoffstein's marble halls again. You'd better watch him, Burke. +His skin is about as full as it'll hold." + +"We'll get back," said Burke briefly. + +He was holding his captive locked in a scientific grip, but there +was no violence about him. Only, as he turned, the other turned +also, as if compelled. Kelly followed, cursing himself back to +amiability. + +Back through the raging wind they went, as though pursued by +furies. They reached and entered the hotel just as the Kaffir +porter was closing for the night. He stared with bulging eyes at +Burke and his companion, but Burke walked straight through, looking +neither to right nor left. + +Only at the foot of the stairs, he paused an instant, glancing back. + +"I'll see you in the morning, Donovan," he said. "Thanks for all +you've done." + +To which Kelly replied, fingering a bump on his forehead with a +rueful grin, "All's well that ends well, my son, and sure it's a +pleasure to serve you. I flatter myself, moreover, that you +wouldn't have done the trick on your own. Hoffstein will stand +more from me than from any other living man." + +The hint of a smile touched Burke's set lips. "Show me the man +that wouldn't!" he said; and turning, marched his unresisting +prisoner up the stairs. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE GOOD CAUSE + +"Why can't you leave me alone? What do you want with me?" + +Half-sullenly, half-aggressively, Guy Ranger flung the questions, +standing with lowering brow before his captor. His head was down +and his eyes raised with a peculiar, brutish expression. He had +the appearance of a wild animal momentarily cowed, but preparing +for furious battle. The smouldering of his look was terrible. + +Burke Ranger met it with steely self-restraint. "I'll tell you +presently," he said. + +"You'll tell me now!" Fiercely the younger man made rejoinder. +His power of resistance was growing, swiftly swallowing all sense +of expediency. "If I choose to wallow in the mire, what the devil +is it to you? You didn't send that accursed fool Kelly round for +your own pleasure, I'll take my oath. What is it you want me for? +Tell me straight!" + +His voice rose on the words. His hands were clenched; yet still he +wore that half-frightened look as of an animal that will spring +when goaded, not before. His hair hung black and unkempt about his +burning eyes. His face was drawn and deadly pale. + +Burke stood like a rock, confronting him. He blocked the way to +the door. "I'll tell you all you want to know in the morning," he +said. "You have a wash now and turn in!" + +The wild eyes took a fleeting glance round the room, returning +instantly, as if fascinated, to Burke's face. + +"Why the devil should I? I've got a--sty of my own to go to." + +"Yes, I know," said Burke. Yet, he stood his ground, grimly +emotionless. + +"Then let me go to it!" Guy Ranger straightened himself, breathing +heavily. "Get out!" he said. "Or--by heaven--I'll throw you!" + +"You can't," said Burke. "So don't be a fool! You know--none +better--that that sort of thing doesn't answer with me." + +"But what do you want?" The reiterated question had a desperate +ring as if, despite its urgency, the speaker dreaded the reply. +"You've never bothered to dig me out before. What's the notion? +I'm nothing to you. You loathe the sight of me." + +Burke made a slight gesture as of repudiation, but he expressed no +denial in words. "As to that," he said, "you draw your own +conclusions. I can't discuss anything with you now. The point is, +you are out of that hell for the present, and I'm going to keep you +out." + +"You!" There was a note of bitter humour in the word. Guy Ranger +threw back his head as he uttered it, and by the action the +likeness between them was instantly proclaimed. "That's good!" he +scoffed. "You--the man who first showed me the gates of hell--to +take upon yourself to pose as deliverer! And for whose benefit, if +one might ask? Your own--or mine?" + +His ashen face with the light upon it was still boyish despite the +stamp of torment that it bore. Through all the furnace of his +degradation his youth yet clung to him like an impalpable veil that +no suffering could rend or destroy. + +Burke suddenly abandoned his attitude of gaoler and took him by the +shoulder. "Don't be a fool!" he said again, but he said it gently. +"I mean what I say. It's a way I've got. This isn't the time for +explanations, but I'm out to help you. Even you will admit that +you're pretty badly in need of help." + +"Oh, damn that!" Recklessly Guy made answer, chafing visibly under +the restraining hold; yet not actually flinging it off. "I know +what I'm doing all right. I shall pull up again presently--before +the final plunge. I'm not going to attempt it before I'm ready. +I've found it doesn't answer." + +"You've got to this time," Burke said. + +His eyes, grey and indomitable, looked straight into Guy's, and +they held him in spite of himself. Guy quivered and stood still. + +"You've got to," he reiterated. "Don't tell me you're enjoying +yourself barkeeping at Hoffstein's! I've known you too long to +swallow it. It just won't go down." + +"It's preferable to doing the white nigger on your blasted farm!" +flashed back Guy. "Starvation's better than that!" + +"Thank you," said Burke. He did not flinch at the straight hit, +but his mouth hardened. "I see your point of view of course. +Perhaps it's beside the mark to remind you that you might have been +a partner if you'd only played a decent game. I wanted a partner +badly enough." + +An odd spasm crossed Guy's face. "Yes. You didn't let me into +that secret, did you, till I'd been weighed in the balances and +found wanting? You were too damned cautious to commit yourself. +And you've congratulated yourself on your marvellous discretion +ever since, I'll lay a wager. You hide-bound, self-righteous prigs +always do. Nothing would ever make you see that it's just your +beastly discretion that does the mischief,--your infernal, +complacent virtue that breeds the vice you so deplore!" He broke +into a harsh laugh that ended in a sharp catch of the breath that +bent him suddenly double. + +Burke's hand went swiftly from his shoulder to his elbow. He led +him to a chair. "Sit down!" he said. "You've got beyond yourself. +I'm going to get you a drink, and then you'll go to bed." + +Guy sat crumpled down in the chair like an empty sack. His head +was on his clenched hands. He swayed as if in pain. + +Burke stood looking down at him for a moment or two. Then he +turned and went away, leaving the door ajar behind him. + +When he came back, Guy was on his feet again, prowling uneasily up +and down, but he had not crossed the threshold. He gave him that +furtive, hunted look again as he entered. + +"What dope is that? Not the genuine article I'll wager my soul!" + +"It is the genuine article," Burke said. "Drink it, and go to bed!" + +But Guy stood before him with his hands at his sides. The +smouldering fire in his eyes was leaping higher and higher. +"What's the game?" he said. "Is it a damned ruse to get me into +your power?" + +Burke set down the glass he carried, and turned full upon him. +There was that about him that compelled the younger man to meet his +look. They stood face to face. + +"You are in my power," he said with stern insistence. "I've borne +with you because I didn't want to use force. But--I can use force. +Don't forget that!" + +Guy made a sharp movement--the movement of the trapped creature. +Beneath Burke's unsparing regard his eyes fell. In a moment he +turned aside, and muttering below his breath he took up the glass +on the table. For a second or two he stood staring at it, then +lifted it as if to drink, but in an instant changed his purpose and +with a snarling laugh swung back and flung glass and contents +straight at Burke's grim face. + +What followed was of so swift and so deadly a nature as to possess +something of the quality of a whirlwind. Almost before the glass +lay in shivered fragments on the floor, Guy was on his knees and +being forced backwards till his head and shoulders touched the +boards. And above him, terrible with awful intention, was Burke's +face, gashed open across the chin and dripping blood upon his own. + +The fight went out of Guy then like an extinguished flame. With +gasping incoherence he begged for mercy. + +"You're hurting me infernally! Man, let me up! I've been--I've +been--a damn' fool! Didn't know--didn't realize! Burke--for +heaven's sake--don't torture me!" + +"Be still!" Burke said. "Or I'll murder you!" + +His voice was low and furious, his hold without mercy. Yet, after +a few seconds he mastered his own violence, realizing that all +resistance in the man under him was broken. In a silence that was +more appalling than speech he got to his feet, releasing him. + +Guy rolled over sideways and lay with his face on his arms, gasping +painfully. After a pause, Burke turned from him and went to the +washing-stand. + +The blood continued to now from the wound while he bathed it. The +cut was deep. He managed, however, to staunch it somewhat at +length, and then very steadily he turned back. + +"Get up!" he said. + +Guy made a convulsive movement in response, but he only half-raised +himself, sinking back immediately with a hard-drawn groan. + +Burke bent over him. "Get up!" he said again. "I'll help you." + +He took him under the arms and hoisted him slowly up. Guy +blundered to his feet with shuddering effort. + +"Now--fire me out!" he said. + +But Burke only guided him to the bed. "Sit down!" he said. + +Numbly he obeyed. He seemed incapable of doing otherwise. But +when, still with that unwavering steadiness of purpose, Burke +stooped and began to unfasten the straps of his gaiters, he +suddenly cried out as if he had been struck unawares in a vital +place. + +"No--no--no! I'm damned--I'm damned if you shall! Burke--stop, do +you hear? Burke!" + +"Be quiet!" Burke said. + +But Guy flung himself forward, preventing him. They looked into +one another's eyes for a tense interval, then, as the blood began +to trickle down his chin again, Burke released himself. + +In the same moment, Guy covered his face and burst into agonized +sobbing most terrible to hear. + +Burke stood up again. Somehow all the hardness had gone out of him +though the resolution remained. He put a hand on Guy's shoulder, +and gently shook him. + +"Don't do it, boy! Don't do it! Pull yourself together for +heaven's sake! Drink--do anything--but this! You'll want to shoot +yourself afterwards." + +But Guy was utterly broken, his self-control beyond recovery. The +only response he made was to feel for and blindly grip the hand +that held him. + +So for a space they remained, while the anguish possessed him and +slowly passed. Then, with the quiescence of complete exhaustion, +he suffered Burke's ministrations in utter silence. + +Half-an hour later he lay in a dead sleep, motionless as a stone +image, while the man who dragged him from his hell rested upon two +chairs and grimly reviewed the problem which he had created for +himself. There was no denying the fact that young Guy had been a +thorn in his side almost ever since his arrival in the country. +The pity of it was that he possessed such qualities as should have +lifted him far above the crowd. He had courage, he had resource. +Upon occasion he was even brilliant. But ever the fatal handicap +existed that had pulled him down. He lacked moral strength, the +power to resist temptation. As long as he lived, this infirmity of +character would dog his steps, would ruin his every enterprise. +And Burke, whose stubborn force made him instinctively impatient of +such weakness, lay and contemplated the future with bitter +foreboding. + +There had been a time when he had thought to rectify the evil, to +save Guy from himself, to implant in him something of that moral +fibre which he so grievously lacked. But he had been forced long +since to recognize his own limitations in this respect. Guy was +fundamentally wanting in that strength which was so essentially a +part of his own character, and he had been compelled at last to +admit that no outside influence could supply the want. He had come +very reluctantly to realize that no faith could be reposed in him, +and when that conviction had taken final hold upon him, Burke had +relinquished the struggle in disgust. + +Yet, curiously, behind all his disappointment, even contempt, there +yet lurked in his soul an odd liking for the young man. Guy was +most strangely likable, however deep he sank. Unstable, +unreliable, wholly outside the pale as he was, yet there ever hung +about him a nameless, indescribable fascination which redeemed him +from utter degradation, a charm which very curiously kept him from +being classed with the swine. There was a natural gameness about +him that men found good. Even at his worst, he was never revolting. + +He seemed to Burke a mass of irresponsible inconsistency. He was +full of splendid possibilities that invariably withered ere they +approached fruition. He had come to regard him as a born failure, +and though for Sylvia's sake he had made this final effort, he had +small faith in its success. Only she was so hard to resist, that +frank-eyed, earnest young partner of his. She was so unutterably +dear in all her ways. How could he hear the tremor of her pleading +voice and refuse her? + +The memory of her came over him like a warm soft wave. He felt +again the quick pressure of her arm about his neck, the fleeting +sweetness of her kiss. How had he kept himself from catching her +to his heart in that moment, and holding her there while he drank +his fill of the cup she had so shyly proffered? How had he ever +suffered her to flit from him down the rough _kopje_ and turn at +the bottom with the old intangible shield uplifted between them? + +The blood raced in his veins. He clenched his hands in impotent +self-contempt. And yet at the back of his man's soul he knew that +by that very forbearance his every natural impulse condemned, he +had strengthened his position, he had laid the foundation-stone of +a fabric that would endure against storm and tempest. The house +that he would build would be an abiding-place--no swiftly raised +tent upon the sand. It would take time to build it, infinite care, +possibly untold sacrifice. But when built, it would be absolutely +solid, proof for all time against every wind that blew. For every +stone would be laid with care and made fast with the cement that is +indestructible. And it would be founded upon a rock. + +So, as at last he drifted into sleep, Guy lying in a deathlike +immobility by his side, there came to him the conviction that what +he had done had been well done, done in a good cause, and +acceptable to the Master Builder at Whose Behest he was vaguely +conscious that all great things are achieved. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE RETURN + +When the morning broke upon Blue Hill Farm the sand-storm had blown +itself out. With brazen splendour the sun arose to burn the +parched earth anew, but Sylvia was before it. With the help of +Fair Rosamond and, Joe, the boy, she was preparing a small wooden +hut close by for the reception of a guest. He should not go back +to that wretched cabin on the sand if she could prevent it. He +should be treated with honour. He should be made to feel that to +her--and to Burke--his welfare was a matter of importance. + +She longed to know how Burke had fared upon his quest. She +yearned, even while she dreaded, to see the face which once had +been all the world to her. That he had ceased to fill her world +was a fact that she frankly admitted to herself just as she +realized that she felt no bitterness towards this man who had so +miserably failed her. Her whole heart now was set upon drawing him +back from the evil paths down which he had strayed. When that was +done, when Guy was saved from the awful destruction that menaced +him, then there might come time for other thoughts, other +interests. Since Burke had acceded to her urgent request so +obviously against his will, her feelings had changed towards him. +A warmth of gratitude had filled her, It had been so fine of him to +yield to her like that. + +But somehow she could not suffer her thoughts to dwell upon Burke +just then. Always something held her back, restraining her, +filling her with a strange throbbing agitation that she herself +must check, lest it should overwhelm her. Instinctively, almost +with a sense of self-preservation, she turned her mind away from +him. And she was too busy--much too busy--to sit and dream. + +When the noon-day heat waxed fierce, she had to rest, though it +required her utmost strength of will to keep herself quiet, lying +listening with straining ears to the endless whirring of countless +insects in the silence of the _veldt_. + +It was with unspeakable relief that she arose from this enforced +inactivity and, as evening drew on, resumed her work. She was +determined that Guy should be comfortable when he came. She knew +that it was more than possible that he would not come that day, but +she could not leave anything unfinished. It was so important that +he should realize his welcome from the very first moment of arrival. + +All was finished at last even to her satisfaction. She stood alone +in the rough hut that she had turned into as dainty a guest-chamber +as her woman's ingenuity could devise, and breathed a sigh of +contentment, feeling that she had not worked in vain. Surely he +would feel at home here! Surely, even though through his weakness +they had had to readjust both their lives, by love and patience a +place of healing might be found. It was impossible to analyze her +feelings towards him, but she was full of hope. Again she fell to +wondering how Burke had fared. + +At sunset she went out and saddled the horse he had given her as a +wedding-present, Diamond, a powerful animal, black save for a white +mark on his head from which he derived his name. She and Diamond +were close friends, and in his company her acute restlessness began +to subside. She rode him out to the _kopje_, but she did not go +round to view the lonely cabin above the stony watercourse. She +did not want to think of past troubles, only to cherish the hope +for the future that was springing in her heart. + +She was physically tired, but Diamond seemed to understand, and +gave her no trouble. For awhile they wandered in the sunset light, +she with her face to the sky and the wonderful mauve streamers of +cloud that spread towards her from the west. Then, as the light +faded, she rode across the open _veldt_ to the rough road by which +they must come. + +It wound away into the gathering dusk where no lights gleamed, and +a strong sense of desolation came to her, as it were, out of the +desert and gripped her soul. For the first time she looked forward +with foreboding. + +None came along the lonely track. She heard no sound of hoofs. +She tried to whistle a tune to keep herself cheery, but very soon +it failed. The silent immensity of the _veldt_ enveloped her. She +had a forlorn feeling of being the only living being in all that +vastness, except for a small uneasy spirit out of the great +solitudes that wandered to and fro and sometimes fanned her with an +icy breath that made her start and shiver. + +She turned her horse's head at last. "Come, Diamond, we'll go +home." + +The word slipped from her unawares, but the moment she had uttered +it she remembered, and a warm flush mounted in her cheeks. Was it +really home to her--that abode in the wilderness to which Burke +Ranger had brought her? Had she come already to regard it as she +had once regarded that dear home of her childhood from which she +had been so cruelly ousted? + +The thought of the old home went through her with a momentary pang. +Did her father ever think of her now, she wondered? Was he happy +himself? She had written to him after her marriage to Burke, +telling him all the circumstances thereof. It had been a difficult +letter to write. She had not dwelt overmuch upon Guy's part +because she could not bring herself to do so. But she had tried to +make the position intelligible to him, and she hoped she had +succeeded. + +But no answer had come to her. Since leaving England, she had +received letters from one or two friends, but not one from her old +home. It was as if she had entered another world. Already she had +grown so accustomed to it that she felt as if she had known it for +years. And she had no desire to return. The thought of the summer +gaieties she was foregoing inspired her with no regret. Isolated +though she was, she was not unhappy. She had only just begun to +realize it, and not yet could she ask herself wherefore. + +A distinct chill began to creep round her with the approach of +night. She lifted the bridle, and Diamond broke into a trot. Back +to Blue Hill Farm they went, leaving the silence and the loneliness +behind them as they drew near. Mary Ann was scolding the girl from +the open door of the kitchen. Her shrill vituperations banished +all retrospection from Sylvia's mind. She found herself laughing +as she slipped to the ground and handed the horse over to Joe. + +Then she went within, calling to the girl to light the lamps. +There was still mending to be done in Burke's wardrobe. She +possessed herself of some socks, and went to their sitting-room. +Her former restlessness was returning, but she resolutely put it +from her, and for more than an hour she worked steadily at her +task. Then, the socks finished, she took up a book on +cattle-raising and tried to absorb herself in its pages. + +She soon realized, however, that this was quite hopeless, and, at +last, in desperation she flung on a cloak and went outside. The +night was still, the sky a wonderland of stars. She paced to and +fro with her face uplifted to the splendour for a long, long time. +And still there came no sound of hoofs along the lonely track. + +Gradually she awoke to the fact that she was getting very tired. +She began to tell herself that she had been too hopeful. They +would not come that night. + +Her knees were getting shaky, and she went indoors. A cold supper +had been spread. She sat down and partook of food, scarcely +realizing what she ate. Then, reviving, she rallied herself on her +foolishness. Of course they would not come that night. She had +expected too much, had worn herself out to no purpose. She +summoned her common sense to combat her disappointment, and +commanded herself sternly to go to bed before exhaustion overtook +her. She had behaved like a positive idiot. It was high time she +pulled herself together. + +It was certainly growing late. Mary Ann and her satellites had +already retired to their own quarters some little distance from the +bungalow. She was quite alone in the eerie silence. Obviously, +bed was the only place if she did not mean to sit and shiver with +sheer nervousness. Stoutly she collected her mental forces and +retreated to her room. She was so tired that she knew she would +sleep if she could control her imagination. + +This she steadfastly set herself to do, with the result that sleep +came to her at last, and in her weariness she sank into a deep +slumber that, undisturbed by any outside influence, would have +lasted throughout the night. She had left a lamp burning in the +sitting-room that adjoined her bedroom, and the door between ajar, +so that she was not lying in complete darkness. She had done the +same the previous night, and had felt no serious qualms. The light +scarcely reached her, but it was a comfort to see it at hand when +she opened her eyes. It gave her a sense of security, and she +slept the more easily because of it. + +So for an hour or more she lay in unbroken slumber; then, like a +cloud arising out of her sea of oblivion, there came to her again +that dream of two horsemen galloping. It was a terrible dream, all +the more terrible because she knew so well what was coming. Only +this time, instead of the ledge along the ravine, she saw them +clearly outlined against the sky, racing from opposite directions +along a knife-edge path that stood up, sharp and jagged, between +two precipices. + +With caught breath she stood apart and watched in anguished +expectation, watched as if held by some unseen force, till there +came the inevitable crash, the terrible confusion of figures locked +in deadly combat, and then the hurtling fall of a single horseman +down that frightful wall of rock. His face gleamed white for an +instant, and then was gone. Was it Guy? Was it Burke? She knew +not. . . . + +It was then that strength returned to her, and she sprang up, +crying wildly, every pulse alert and pricking her to action. She +fled across the room, instinctively seeking the light, stumbled on +the threshold, and fell headlong into the arms of a man who stood +just beyond. They closed upon her instantly, supporting her. She +lay, gasping hysterically, against his breast. + +"Easy! Easy!" he said. "Did I startle you?" + +It was Burke's voice, very deep and low. She felt the steady beat +of his heart as he held her. + +Her senses returned to her and with them an overwhelming +embarrassment that made her swiftly withdraw herself from him. He +let her go, and she retreated into the darkness behind her. + +"What is it, partner?" he said gently. "You've nothing to be +afraid of." + +There was no reproach in his voice, yet something within reproached +her instantly. She put on slippers and dressing-gown and went back +to him. + +"I've had a stupid dream," she said. "I expect I heard your horse +outside. So--you have come back alone!" + +"He has gone back to his own cabin," Burke said. + +"Burke!" She looked at him with startled, reproachful eyes. Her +hair lay in a fiery cloud about her shoulders, and fire burned in +her gaze as she faced him. + +He made a curious gesture as if he restrained some urging impulse, +not speaking for a moment. When his voice came again it sounded +cold, with an odd note of defiance. "I've done my best." + +She still looked at him searchingly. "Why wouldn't he come here?" +she said. + +He turned from her with a movement that almost seemed to indicate +impatience "He preferred not to. There isn't much accommodation +here. Besides, he can very well fend for himself. He's used to +it." + +"I have been preparing for him all day," Sylvia said. She looked +at him anxiously, struck by something unusual in his pose, and +noted for the first time a wide strip of plaster on one side of his +chin. "Is all well?" she questioned. "How have you hurt your +face?" + +He did not look at her. "Yes, all's well," he said. "I cut +myself--shaving. You go back to bed! I'm going to refresh before +I turn in." + +Sylvia turned to a cupboard in the room where she had placed some +eatables before retiring. She felt chill with foreboding. What +was it that Burke was hiding behind that curt manner? She was sure +there was something. + +"What will Guy do for refreshment?" she said, as she set dishes and +plates upon the table. + +"He'll have some tinned stuff in that shanty of his," said Burke. + +She turned from the table with abrupt resolution. "Have something +to eat, partner," she said, "and then tell me all about it!" + +She looked for the sudden gleam of his smile, but she looked in +vain. He regarded her, indeed, but it was with sombre eyes. + +"You go back to bed!" he reiterated. "There is no necessity for +you to stay up. You can see him for yourself in the morning." + +He would have seated himself at the table with the words, but she +laid a quick, appealing hand upon his arm, deterring him. "Burke!" +she said. "What is the matter? Please tell me!" + +She felt his arm grow rigid under her fingers. And then with a +suddenness that electrified her he moved, caught her by the wrists +and drew her to him, locking her close. + +"You witch!" he said. "You--enchantress! How shall I resist you?" + +She uttered a startled gasp; there was no time for more ere his +lips met hers in a kiss so burning, so compelling, that it reft +from her all power of resistance. One glimpse she had of his eyes, +and it was as if she looked into the deep, deep heart of the fire +unquenchable. + +She wanted to cry out, so terrible was the sight, but his lips +sealed her own. She lay helpless in his hold. + +Afterwards she realized that she must have been near to fainting, +for when at the end of those wild moments of passion he let her go, +her knees gave way beneath her and she could not stand. Yet +instinctively she gripped her courage with both hands. He had +startled her, appalled her even, but there was a fighting strain in +Sylvia, and she flung dismay away. She held his arm in a quivering +grasp. She smiled a quivering smile. And these were the bravest +acts she had ever forced herself to perform. + +"You've done it now, partner!" she said shakily. "I'm +nearly--squeezed--to death!" + +"Sylvia!" he said. + +Amazement, contrition, and even a curious dash of awe, were in his +voice. He put his arm about her, supporting her. + +She leaned against him, panting, her face downcast. "It's--all +right," she told him. "I told you you might sometimes, didn't I? +Only--you--were a little sudden, and I wasn't prepared. I believe +you've been having a rotten time. Sit down now, and have something +to eat!" + +But he did not move though there was no longer violence in his +hold. He spoke deeply, above her bent head. "I can't stand this +farce much longer. I'm only human after all, and there is a limit +to everything. I can't keep at arm's length for ever. Flesh and +blood won't bear it." + +She did not lift her head, but stood silent within the circle of +his arm. It was as if she waited for something. Then, after a +moment or two, she began to rub his sleeve lightly up and down, her +hand not very steady. + +"You're played out, partner," she said. "Don't let's discuss +things to-night! They are sure to look different in the morning." + +"And if they don't?" said Burke. + +She glanced up at him with again that little quivering smile. +"Well, then, we'll talk," she said, "till we come to an +understanding." + +He put his hand on her shoulder. "Sylvia, don't--play with me!" he +said. + +His tone was quiet, but it held a warning that brought her eyes to +his in a flash. She stood so for a few seconds, facing him, and +her breast heaved once or twice as if breathing had become +difficult. + +At last, "There was no need to say that to me, partner," she said, +in a choked voice. "You don't know me--even as well as--as you +might--if you--if you took the trouble." She paused a moment, and +put her hand to her throat. Her eyes were full of tears. "And +now--good night!" she said abruptly. + +Her tone was a command. He let her go, and in an instant the door +had closed between them. He stood motionless, waiting tensely for +the shooting of the bolt; but it did not come. He only heard +instead a faint sound of smothered sobbing. + +For a space he stood listening, his face drawn into deep lines, his +hands hard clenched. Then at length with a bitter gesture he +flung himself down at the table. + +He was still sitting motionless a quarter of an hour later, the +food untouched before him, when the intervening door opened +suddenly and silently, and like a swooping bird Sylvia came swiftly +behind him and laid her two hands on his shoulders. + +"Partner dear, I've been a big idiot. Will you forgive me?" she +said. + +Her voice was tremulous. It still held a sound of tears. She +tried to keep out of his sight as he turned in his chair. + +"Don't--don't stare at me!" she said, and slipped coaxing arms that +trembled round his neck, locking her hands tightly in front of him. +"You hurt me a bit--though I don't think you meant to. And now +I've hurt you--quite a lot. I didn't mean it either, partner. So +let's cry quits! I've forgiven you. Will you try to forgive me?" + +He sat quite still for a few seconds, and in the silence shyly she +laid her cheek down against the back of his head. He moved then, +and very gently clasped the trembling hands that bound him. But +still he did not speak. + +"Say it's all right!" she urged softly. "Say you're not cross +or--or anything!" + +"I'm not," said Burke very firmly. + +"And don't--don't ever think I want to play with you!" she pursued, +a catch in her voice. "That's not me, partner. I'm sorry I'm so +very unsatisfactory. But--anyhow that's not the reason." + +"I know the reason," said Burke quietly. + +"You don't," she rejoined instantly. "But never mind that now! +You don't know anything whatever about me, partner. I can't say I +even know myself very intimately just now. I feel as if--as if +I've been blindfolded, and I can't see anything at all just yet. +So will you try to be patient with me? Will you--will you--go on +being a pal to me till the bandage comes off again? I--want a +pal--rather badly, partner." + +Her pleading voice came muffled against him. She was clinging to +him very tightly. He could feel her fingers straining upon each +other. He stroked them gently. + +"All right, little girl. All right," he said. + +His tone must have reassured her, for she slipped round and knelt +beside him. "I'd like you to kiss me," she said, and lifted a pale +face and tear-bright eyes to his, + +He took her head between his hands, and she saw that he was moved. +He bent in silence, and would have kissed her brow, but she raised +her lips instead. And shyly she returned his kiss. + +"You're so--good to me," she said, in a whisper. "Thank you--so +much." + +He said no word in answer. Mutely he let her go. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE GUEST + +When Sylvia met her husband again, it was as if they had never been +parted or any cloud arisen to disturb the old frank comradeship. + +They breakfasted at daybreak before riding out over the lands, and +their greeting was of the most commonplace description. Later, as +they rode together across the barren _veldt_, Burke told her a +little of his finding of Guy at Brennerstadt. He did not dwell +upon any details, but by much that he left unsaid Sylvia gathered +that the task had not been easy. + +"He knows about--me?" she ventured presently, with hesitation. + +"Yes," Burke said. + +"Was he--surprised?" she asked. + +"No. He knew long ago." + +She asked no more. It had been difficult enough to ask so much. +And she would soon see Guy for herself. She would not admit even +to her own secret soul how greatly she was dreading that meeting +now that it was so near. + +Perhaps Burke divined something of her feeling in the matter, +however, for at the end of a prolonged silence he said, "I thought +I would fetch him over to lunch,--unless you prefer to ride round +that way first." + +"Oh, thank you," she said. "That is good of you." + +As they reached the bungalow, she turned to him with a sudden +question. "Burke, you didn't--really--cut your chin so badly +shaving. Did you?" + +She met the swift flash of his eyes without trepidation, refusing +to be intimidated by the obvious fact that the question was +unwelcome. + +"Did you?" she repeated with insistence. He uttered a brief laugh. +"All right, I didn't. And that's all there is to it." + +"Thank you, partner," she returned with spirit, and changed the +subject. But her heart had given a little throb of dismay within +her. Full well she knew the reason of his reticence. + +They parted before the _stoep_, he leading her animal away, she +going within to attend to the many duties of her household. + +She filled her thoughts with these resolutely during the morning, +but in spite of this it was the longest morning she had ever known. + +She was at length restlessly superintending the laying of lunch +when Joe hurried in with the news that a _baas_ was waiting on the +_stoep_ round the corner to see her. The news startled her. She +had heard no sounds of arrival, nor had Burke returned. For a few +moments she was conscious of a longing to escape that was almost +beyond her, control, then with a sharp effort she commanded herself +and went out. + +Turning the corner of the bungalow, she came upon him very +suddenly, standing upright against one of the pillar-supports, +awaiting her. He was alone, and a little throb of thankfulness +went through her that this was so. She knew in that moment that +she could not have borne to meet him for the first time in Burke's +presence. + +She was trembling as she went forward, but the instant their hands +met her agitation fell away from her, for she suddenly realized +that he was trembling also. + +No conventional words came to her lips. How could she ever be +conventional with Guy? And it was Guy--Guy in the flesh--who stood +before her, so little altered in appearance from the Guy she had +known five years before that the thought flashed through her mind +that he looked only as if he had come through a sharp illness. She +had expected far worse, though she realized now what Burke had +meant when he had said that whatever resemblance had once existed +between them, they were now no longer alike. He had not developed +as she had expected. In Burke, she seemed to see the promise of +Guy's youth. But Guy himself had not fulfilled that promise. He +had degenerated. He had proved himself a failure. And yet he did +not look coarsened or hardened by vice. He only looked, to her +pitiful, inexperienced eyes, as if he had been ravaged by some +sickness, as if he had suffered intensely and were doomed to suffer +as long as he lived. + +That was the first impression she received of him, and it was that +that made her clasp his hand in both her own and hold it fast. + +"Oh, Guy!" she said. "How ill you look!" + +His fingers closed hard upon hers. He did not attempt to meet her +earnest gaze. "So you got married to Burke!" he said, ignoring her +exclamation. "It was the best thing you could do. He may not be +exactly showy, but he's respectable. I wonder you want to speak to +me after the way I let you down." + +The words were cool, almost casual; yet his hand still held hers in +a quivering grasp. There was something in that grasp that seemed +to plead for understanding. He flashed her a swift look from eyes +that burned with a fitful, feverish fire out of deep hollows. How +well she remembered his eyes! But they had never before looked at +her thus. With every moment that passed she realized that the +change in him was greater than that first glance had revealed. + +"Of course I want to speak to you!" she said gently. "I forgave +you long ago--as, I hope, you have forgiven me." + +"I!" he said. "My dear girl, be serious!" + +Somehow his tone pierced her. There was an oddly husky quality in +his voice that seemed to veil emotion. The tears sprang to her +eyes before she was aware. + +"Whatever happens then, we are friends," she said. "Remember that +always, won't you? It--it will hurt me very much if you don't." + +"Bless your heart!" said Guy, and smiled a twisted smile. "You +were always generous, weren't you? Too generous sometimes. What +did you want to rake me out of my own particular little comer of +hell for? Was it a mistaken idea of kindness or merely curiosity? +I wasn't anyhow doing you any harm there." + +His words, accompanied by that painful smile, went straight to her +heart. "Ah, don't--don't!" she said. "Did you think I could +forget you so easily, or be any thing but wretched while you were +there?" + +He looked at her again, this time intently, "What can you be made +of, Sylvia?" he said. "Do you mean to say you found it easy to +forgive me?" + +She dashed the tears from her eyes. "I don't remember that I was +ever--angry with you," she said. "Somehow I realized--from the +very first--that--that--it was just--bad luck." + +"You amaze me!" he said. + +She smiled at him. "Do I? I don't quite see why. Is it so +amazing that one should want to pass on and make the best of +things? That is how I feel now. It seems so long ago, Guy,--like +another existence almost. It is too far away to count." + +"Are you talking of the old days?" he broke in, in a voice that +grated. "Or of the time a few weeks ago when you got here to find +yourself stranded?" + +She made a little gesture of protest. "It wasn't for long. I +don't want to think of it. But it might have been much worse. +Burke was--is still--so good to me." + +"Is he?" said Guy. He was looking at her curiously, and +instinctively she turned away, avoiding his eyes. + +"Come and have some lunch!" she said. "He ought to be in directly." + +"He is in," said Guy. "He went round to the stable." + +It was another instance of Burke's goodness that he had not been +present at their meeting. She turned to lead the way within with a +warm feeling at her heart. It was solely due to this consideration +of his that she had not suffered the most miserable embarrassment. +Somehow she felt that she could not possibly have endured that +first encounter in his presence. But now that it was over, now +that she had made acquaintance with this new Guy--this stranger +with Guy's face, Guy's voice, but not Guy's laugh or any of the +sparkling vitality that had been his--she felt she wanted him. She +needed his help. For surely now he knew Guy better than she did! + +It was with relief that she heard his step, entering from the back +of the house. He came in, whistling carelessly, and she glanced +instinctively at Guy. That sound had always made her think of him. +Had he forgotten how to whistle also, she wondered? + +She expected awkwardness, constraint; but Burke surprised her by +his ease of manner. Above all, she noticed that he was by no means +kind to Guy. He treated him with a curt friendliness from which +all trace of patronage was wholly absent. His attitude was rather +that of brother than host, she reflected. And its effect upon Guy +was of an oddly bracing nature. The semi-defiant air dropped from +him. Though still subdued, his manner showed no embarrassment. He +even, as time passed, became in a sardonic fashion almost jocose. + +In company with Burke, he drank lager-beer, and he betrayed not the +smallest desire to drink too much. Furtively she watched him +throughout the meal, trying to adjust her impressions, trying to +realize him as the lover to whom she had been faithful for so long, +the lover who had written those always tender, though quite +uncommunicative letters, the lover, who had cabled her his welcome, +and then had so completely and so cruelly failed her. + +Her ideas of him were a whirl of conflicting notions which utterly +bewildered her. Of one thing only did she become very swiftly and +surely convinced, and that was that in failing her he had saved her +from a catastrophe which must have eclipsed her whole life. +Whatever he was, whatever her feelings for him, she recognized that +this man was not the mate her girlish dreams had so fondly +pictured. Probably she would have realized this in any case from +the moment of their meeting, but circumstances might have compelled +her to join her life to his. And then------ + +Her look passed from him to Burke, and instinctively she breathed a +sigh of thankfulness. He had saved her from much already, and his +rock-like strength stood perpetually between her and evil. For the +first time she was consciously glad that she had entrusted herself +to him. + +At the end of luncheon she realized with surprise that there had +not been an awkward moment. They went out on to the _stoep_ to +smoke cigarettes when it was over, and drink the coffee which she +went to prepare. It was when she was coming out with this that she +first heard Guy's cough--a most terrible, rending sound that filled +her with dismay. Stepping out on to the _stoep_ with her tray, she +saw him bent over the back of a chair, convulsed with coughing, and +stood still in alarm. She had never before witnessed so painful a +struggle. It was as if he fought some demon whose clutch +threatened to strangle him. + +Burke came to her and took the tray from her hands. "He'll be +better directly," he said. "It was the cigarette." + +With almost superhuman effort, Guy succeeded in forcing back the +monster that seemed to be choking him, but for several minutes +thereafter he hung over the chair with his face hidden, fighting +for breath. + +Burke motioned to Sylvia to sit down, but she would not. She stood +by Guy's side, and at length as he grew calmer, laid a gentle hand +upon his arm. + +"Come and sit down, Guy. Would you like some water?" + +He shook his head. "No--no! Give me--that damned cigarette!" + +"Don't you be a fool!" said Burke, but he said it kindly. "Sit +down and be quiet for a bit!" + +He came up behind Guy, and took him by the shoulders. Sylvia saw +with surprise the young man yield without demur, and suffer himself +to be put into the chair where with an ashen face he lay for a +space as if afraid to move. + +Burke drew her aside. "Don't be scared!" he said, "It's nothing +new. He'll come round directly." + +Guy came round, sat slowly up, and reached a shaking hand towards +the table on which lay his scarcely lighted cigarette. + +"Oh, don't!" Sylvia said quickly. "See, I have just brought out +some coffee. Won't you have some?" + +Burke settled the matter by picking up the cigarette and tossing it +away. + +Guy gave him a queer look from eyes that seemed to bum like red +coals, but he said nothing whatever. He took the coffee Sylvia +held out to him and drank it as if parched with thirst. + +Then he turned to her. "Sorry to have made such an exhibition of +myself. It's all this infernal sand. Yes, I'll have some more, +please. It does me good. Then I'll get back to my own den and +have a sleep." + +"You can sleep here," Burke said unexpectedly. "No one will +disturb you. Sylvia never sits here in the afternoon." + +Again Sylvia saw that strange look in Guy's eyes, a swift intent +glance and then the instant falling of the lids. + +"You're very--kind," said Guy. "But I think I'll get back to my +own quarters all the same." + +Impulsively Sylvia intervened. "Oh, Guy, please,--don't go back to +that horrible little shanty on the sand! I got a room all ready +for you yesterday--if you will only use it." + +He turned to her. For a second his look was upon her also, and it +seemed to her in that moment that she and Burke had united cruelly +to bait some desperate animal. It sent such a shock through her +that she shrank in spite of herself. + +And then for the first time she heard Guy laugh, and it was a sound +more dreadful than his cough had been, a catching, painful sound +that was more like a cry--the hunger-cry of a prowling beast of the +desert. + +He got up as he uttered it, and stretched his arms above his head. +She saw that his hands were clenched. + +"Oh, don't overdo it, I say!" he begged. "Hospitality is all very +well, but it can be carried too far. Ask Burke if it can't! +Besides, two's company and three's the deuce. So I'll be +going--and many thanks!" + +He was gone with the words, snatching his hat from a chair where he +had thrown it, and departing into the glare of the desert with +never a backward glance. + +Sylvia turned swiftly to her husband, and found his eyes upon her. + +"With a gasping cry she caught his arm. Oh, can't you go after +him? Can't you bring him back?" + +He freed the arm to put it round her, with the gesture of one who +comforts a hurt child. "My dear, it's no good," he said. "Let him +go!" + +"But, Burke--" she cried. "Oh, Burke----" + +"I know," he made answer, still soothing her. "But it can't be +done--anyhow at present. You'll drive him away if you attempt it. +I know. I've done it. Leave him alone till the devil has gone out +of him! He'll come back then--and be decent--for a time." + +His meaning was unmistakable. The force of what he said drove in +upon her irresistibly. She burst into tears, hiding her face +against his shoulder in her distress. + +"But how dreadful! Oh, how dreadful! He is killing himself. I +think--the Guy--I knew--is dead already." + +"No, he isn't," Burke said, and he held her with sudden closeness +as he said it. "He isn't--and that's the hell of it. But you +can't save him. No one can." + +She lifted her face sharply. There was something intolerable in +the words. With the tears upon her cheeks she challenged them. + +"He can be saved! He must be saved! I'll do it somehow--somehow!" + +"You may try," Burke said, as he suffered her to release herself. +"You won't succeed." + +She forced a difficult smile with quivering lips. "You don't know +me. Where there's a will, there's a way. And I shall find it +somehow." + +He looked grim for an instant, then smiled an answering smile. +"Don't perish in the attempt!" he said. "That do-or-die look of +yours is rather ominous. Don't forget you're my partner! I can't +spare you, you know." + +She uttered a shaky laugh. "Of course you can't. Blue Hill Farm +would go to pieces without me, wouldn't it? I've often thought I'm +quite indispensable." + +"You are to me," said Burke briefly; and ere the quick colour had +sprung to her face, he also had gone his way. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE INTERRUPTION + +Sylvia meant to ride round to Guy's hut in search of him that +evening, but when the time came something held her back. + +Burke's words, "You'll drive him away," recurred to her again and +again, and with them came a dread of intruding that finally +prevailed against her original intention. He must not think for a +moment that she desired to spy upon him, even though that dreadful +craving in his eyes haunted her perpetually, urging her to action. +It seemed inevitable that for a time at least he must fight his +devil alone, and with all her strength she prayed that he might +overcome. + +In the end she rode out with Burke, covering a considerable +distance, and returning tired in body but refreshed in mind. + +They had supper together as usual, but when it was over he +surprised her by taking up his hat again. + +"You are going out?" she said. + +"I'm going to have a smoke with Guy," he said. "You have a game of +Patience, and then go to bed!" + +She looked at him uncertainly. "I'll come with you," she said. + +He was filling his pipe preparatory to departure. "You do as I +say!" he said. + +She tried to laugh though she saw his face was grim. "You're +getting rather despotic, partner. I shall have to nip that in the +bud. I'm not going to stay at home and play Patience all by +myself. There!" + +He raised his eyes abruptly from his task, and suddenly her heart +was beating fast and hard. "All right," he said. "We'll stay at +home together." + +His tone was brief, but it thrilled her. She was afraid to speak +for a moment or two lest he should see her strange agitation. +Then, as he still looked at her, "Oh no, partner," she said +lightly. "That wouldn't be the same thing at all. I am much too +fond of my own company to object to solitude. I only thought I +would like to come, too. I love the _veldt_ at night." + +"Do you?" he said. "I wonder what has taught you to do that." + +He went on with the filling of his pipe as he spoke, and she was +conscious of quick relief. His words did not seem to ask for an +answer, and she made none. + +"When are you going to take me to Ritzen?" she asked instead. + +"To Ritzen!" He glanced up again in surprise. "Do you want to go +to Ritzen?" + +"Or Brennerstadt," she said, "Whichever is the best shopping +centre." + +"Oh!" He began to smile. "You want to shop, do you? What do you +want to buy?" + +She looked at him severely. "Nothing for myself, I am glad to say." + +"What! Something for me?" His smile gave him that look--that +boyish look--which once she had loved so dearly upon Guy's face. +She felt as if something were pulling at her heart. She ignored it +resolutely. + +"You will have to buy it for yourself," she told him sternly. +"I've got nothing to buy it with. It's something you ought to have +got long ago--if you had any sense of decency." + +"What on earth is it?" Burke dropped his pipe into his pocket and +gave her his full attention. + +Sylvia, with a cigarette between her lips, got up to find the +matches. She lighted it very deliberately under his watching eyes, +then held out the match to him. "Light up, and I'll tell you." + +He took the slender wrist, blew out the match, and held her, facing +him. + +"Sylvia," he said. "I ought to have gone into the money question +with you before. But all I have is yours. You know that, don't +you?" + +She laughed at him through the smoke. "I know where you keep it +anyhow, partner," she said. "But I shan't take any--so you needn't +be afraid." + +"Afraid!" he said, still holding her. "But you are to take it. +Understand? It's my wish." + +She blew the smoke at him, delicately, through pursed lips. "Good +my lord, I don't want it. Couldn't spend it if I had it. So now!" + +"Then what is it I am to buy?" he said. + +Lightly she answered him. "Oh, you will only do the paying part. +I shall do the choosing--and the bargaining, if necessary." + +"Well, what is it?" Still he held her, and there was something of +insistence, something of possession, in his hold. + +Possibly she had never before seemed more desirable to him--or more +elusive. For she was beginning to realize and to wield her power. +Again she took a whiff from her cigarette, and wafted it at him +through laughing lips. + +"I want some wool--good wool--and a lot of it, to knit some +socks--for you. Your present things are disgraceful." + +His look changed a little. His eyes shone through the veil of +smoke she threw between them, "I can buy ready-made socks. I'm not +going to let you make them--or mend them." + +Sylvia's red lips expressed scorn. "Ready-made rubbish! No, sir. +With your permission I prefer to make. Then perhaps I shall have +less mending to do." + +He was drawing her to him and she did not actively resist, though +there was no surrender in her attitude. + +"And why won't you have any money?" he said. "We are partners." + +She laughed lightly. "And you give me board and lodging. I am not +worth more." + +He looked her in the eyes. "Are you afraid to take too much--lest +I should want too much in return?" + +She did not answer. She was trembling a little in his hold, but +her eyes met his fearlessly. + +He put up a hand and took the cigarette very gently from her lips. +"Sylvia, I'm going to tell you something--if you'll listen." + +He paused a moment. She was suddenly throbbing from head to foot. + +"What is it?" she whispered. + +He snuffed out the cigarette with his fingers and put it in his +pocket. Then he bent to her, his hand upon her shoulder. + +His lips were open to speak, and her silence waited for the words, +when like the sudden rending of the heavens there came an awful +sound close to them, so close that is shook the windows in their +frames and even seemed to shake the earth under their feet. + +Sylvia started back with a cry, her hands over her face. "Oh, +what--what--what is that?" + +Burke was at the window in a second. He wrenched it open, and as +he did so there came the shock of a thudding fall. A man's +figure, huddled up like an empty sack lay across the threshold. It +sank inwards with the opening of the window, and Guy's face white +as death, with staring, senseless eyes, lay upturned to the +lamplight. + +Something jingled on the floor as his inert form collapsed, and a +smoking revolver dropped at Burke's feet. + +He picked it up sharply, uncocked it and laid it on the table. +Then he stooped over the prostrate body. The limbs were twitching +spasmodically, but the movement was wholly involuntary. The +deathlike face testified to that. And through the grey flannel +shirt above the heart a dark stain spread and spread. + +"He is dead!" gasped Sylvia at Burke's shoulder. + +"No," Burke said. + +He opened the shirt with the words and exposed the wound beneath. +Sylvia shrank at the sight of the welling blood, but Burke's voice +steadied her. + +"Get some handkerchiefs and towels," he said, "and make a wad! We +must stop this somehow." + +His quietness gave her strength. Swiftly she moved to do his +bidding. + +Returning, she found that he had stretched the silent figure full +length upon the floor. The convulsive movements had wholly ceased. +Guy lay like a dead man. + +She knelt beside Burke. "Tell me what to do and I'll do it! I'll +do--anything!" + +"All right," he said. "Get some cold water!" + +She brought it, and he soaked some handkerchiefs and covered the +wound. + +"I think we shall stop it," he said. "Help me to get this thing +under his shoulders! I shall have to tie him up tight. I'll lift +him while you get it underneath." + +She was perfectly steady as she followed his instructions, and even +though in the process her hands were stained with Guy's blood, she +did not shrink again. It was no easy task, but Burke's skill and +strength of muscle accomplished it at last. Across Guy's body he +looked at her with a certain grim triumph. + +"Well played, partner! That's the first move. Are you all right?" + +She saw by his eyes that her face betrayed the horror at her heart. +She tried to smile at him, but her lips felt stiff and cold. Her +look went back to the ashen face on the floor. + +"What--what must be done next?" she said. + +"He will have to stay as he is till we can get a doctor," Burke +answered. "The bleeding has stopped for the present, but--" He +broke off. + +"Child, how sick you look!" he said. "Here, come and wash! +There's nothing more to be done now." + +She got up, feeling her knees bend beneath her but controlling them +with rigid effort. "I--am all right," she said. "You--you think +he isn't dead?" + +Burke's hand closed upon her elbow. "He's not dead,--no! He may +die of course, but I don't fancy he will at present,--not while he +lies like that." + +He was drawing her out of the room, but she resisted him suddenly. +"I can't go. I can't leave him--while he lives. Burke, don't, +please, bother about me! Are you--are you going to fetch a doctor?" + +"Yes," said Burke. + +She looked at him, her eyes wide and piteous. "Then please go +now--go quickly! I--will stay with him till you come back." + +"I shall have to leave you for some hours," he said. + +"Oh, never mind that!" she answered, "Just be as quick as you can, +that's all! I will be with him. I--shan't be afraid." + +She was urging him to the door, but he turned back. He went to the +table, picked up the revolver he had laid there, and put it away in +a cupboard which he locked. + +She marked the action, and as he came to her again, laid a +trembling hand upon his arm. "Burke! Could it--could it have been +an accident?" + +"No. It couldn't," said Burke. He paused a moment, looking at her +in a way she did not understand. She wondered afterwards what had +been passing in his mind. But he said no further word except a +brief, "Good-bye!" + +Ten minutes later, she heard the quick thud of his horse's hoofs as +he rode into the night. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE ABYSS + +"Sylvia!" + +Was it a voice that spoke in the overwhelming silence, or was it +the echo in her soul of a voice that would never speak again? +Sylvia could not decide. She had sat for so long, propped against +a chair, watching that still figure on the floor, straining her +senses to see or hear some sign of breathing, trying to cheat +herself into the belief that he slept, and then with a wrung heart +wondering if he were not better dead. + +All memory of the bitterness and the cruel disappointment that he +had brought into her life had rolled away from her during those +still hours of watching. She did not think of herself at all; only +of Guy, once so eager and full of sparkling hope, now so tragically +fallen in the race of life. All her woman's tenderness was awake +and throbbing with a passionate pity for this lover of her youth. +Why, oh why had he done this thing? The horror of it oppressed her +like a crushing, physical weight. Was it for this that she had +persuaded Burke to rescue him from the depths to which he had sunk? +Had she by her rash interference only precipitated his final +doom--she who had suffered so deeply for his sake, who had yearned +so ardently to bring him back? + +Burke had been against it from the beginning; Burke knew to his +cost the hopelessness of it all. Ah, would it have been better if +she had listened to him and refrained from attempting the +impossible? Would it not have been preferable to accept failure +rather than court disaster? What had she done? What had she done? + +"Sylvia!" + +Surely the old Guy was speaking to her! Those pallid lips could +make no sound; the new, strange Guy was dead. + +As in a dream, she answered him through the silence, feeling as if +she spoke into the shadows of the Unknown. + +"Yes, Guy? Yes? I am here." + +"Will you--forgive me," he said, "for making--a boss shot!" + +Then she turned to the prostrate form beside her on the floor, and +saw that the light of understanding had come back into those +haunted eyes. + +She knelt over him and laid her hand upon his rough hair. "Oh, +Guy, hush--hush!" she said. "Thank God you are still here!" + +A very strange expression flitted over his upturned face, a look +that was indescribably boyish and yet so sad that she caught her +breath to still the intolerable pain at her heart. + +"I shan't be--long." he said. "Thank God for that--too! I've +been--working myself up to it--all day." + +"Guy!" she said. + +He made a slight movement of one hand, and she gathered it close +into her own. It seemed to her that the Shadow of Death had drawn +very near to them, enveloping them both. + +"It had--to be," he said, in the husky halting voice so unfamiliar +to her. "It--was a mistake--to try to bring me back. +I'm--beyond--redemption. Ask Burke;--he knows!" + +"You are not--you are not!" she told him vehemently. "Guy!" She +was holding his hand hard pressed against her heart; her words came +with a rush of pitying tenderness that swept over every barrier. +"Guy! I want you! You must stay. If you go now--you--you will +break my heart." + +His eyes kindled a little at her words, but in a moment the emotion +passed. "It's too late, my dear;--too late," he said and turned +his head on the pillow under it as if seeking rest. "You +don't--understand. Just as well for me perhaps. But I'm better +gone--for your sake, better gone." + +The conviction of his words went through her like a sword-thrust. +He seemed to have passed beyond her influence, almost, she fancied, +not to care. Yet why did the look in his eyes make her think of a +lost child--frightened, groping along an unknown road in the dark? +Why did his hand cling to hers as though it feared to let go? + +She held it very tightly as she made reply. "But, Guy, it isn't +for us to choose. It isn't for us to discharge ourselves. Only +God knows when our work is done." + +He groaned. "I've given all mine to the devil. God couldn't use +me if He tried." + +"You don't know," she said. "You don't know. We're none of us +saints, I think He makes allowances--when things go wrong with +us--just as--just as we make allowances for each other." + +He groaned again. "You would make allowances for the devil +himself," he muttered. "It's the way you're made. But it isn't +justice. Burke would tell you that." + +An odd little tremor of impatience went through her. "I know you +better than Burke does," she said. "Better, probably--than anyone +else in the world." + +He turned his head to and fro upon the pillow. "You don't know me, +Sylvia. You don't know me--at all." + +Yet the husky utterance seemed to plead with her as though he +longed for her to understand. + +She stooped lower over him. "Never mind, dear! I love you all the +same," she said. "And that's why I can't bear you--to go--like +this." Her voice shook unexpectedly. She paused to steady it. +"Guy," she urged, almost under her breath at length, "you will +live--you will try to live--for my sake?" + +Again his eyes were upon her. Again, more strongly, the flame +kindled. Then, very suddenly, a hard shudder went through him, and +a dreadful shadow arose and quenched that vital gleam. For a few +moments consciousness itself seemed to be submerged in the most +awful suffering that Sylvia had ever beheld. His eyeballs rolled +upwards under lids that twitched convulsively. The hand she held +closed in an agonized grip upon her own. She thought that he was +dying, and braced herself instinctively to witness the last +terrible struggle, the rending asunder of soul and body. + +Then--as one upon the edge of an abyss--he spoke, his voice no more +than a croaking whisper. + +"It's hell for me--either way. Living or dead--hell!" + +The paroxysm spent itself and passed like an evil spirit. The +struggle for which she had prepared herself did not come. Instead, +the flickering lids closed over the tortured eyes, the clutching +hand relaxed, and there fell a great silence. + +She sat for a long time not daring to move, scarcely breathing, +wondering if this were the end. Then gradually it came to her, +that he was lying in the stillness of utter exhaustion. She felt +for his pulse and found it beating, weakly but unmistakably. He +had sunk into a sleep which she realized might be the means of +saving his life. + +Thereafter she sat passive, leaning against a chair, waiting, +watching, as she had waited and watched for so long. Once she +leaned her head upon her hand and prayed "O dear God, let him +live!" But something--some inner voice--seemed to check that +prayer, and though her whole soul yearned for its fulfilment she +did not repeat it. Only, after a little, she stooped very low, and +touched Guy's forehead with her lips. + +"God bless you!" she said softly. "God bless you!" + +And in the silence that followed, she thought there was a +benediction. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE DESIRE TO LIVE + +In the last still hour before the dawn there came the tread of +horses' feet outside the bungalow and the sound of men's voices. + +Sylvia looked up as one emerging from a long, long dream, though +she had not closed her eyes all night. The lamp was burning low, +and Guy's face was in deep shadow; but she knew by the hand that +she still held close between her own that he yet lived. She even +fancied that the throb of his pulse was a little stronger. + +She looked at Burke with questioning, uncertain eyes as he entered. +In the dim light he seemed to her bigger, more imposing, more +dominant, than he had ever seemed before. He rolled a little as he +walked as if stiff from long hours in the saddle. + +Behind him came another man--a small thin man with sleek black hair +and a swarthy Jewish face, who moved with a catlike deftness, +making no sound at all. + +"Well, Sylvia?" Burke said. "Is he alive?" + +He took the lamp from the table, and cast its waning light full +upon her. She shrank a little involuntarily from the sudden glare. +Almost without knowing it, she pressed Guy's inert hand to her +breast. The dream was still upon her. It was hardly of her own +volition that she answered him. + +"Yes, he is alive. He has been speaking. I think he is asleep." + +"Permit me!" the stranger said. + +He knelt beside the still form while Burke held the lamp. He +opened the shirt and exposed the blood-soaked bandage. + +Then suddenly he looked at Sylvia with black eyes of a most amazing +brightness. "Madam, you cannot help here. You had better go." + +Somehow he made her think of a raven, unscrupulous, probably wholly +without pity, possibly wicked, and overwhelmingly intelligent. She +avoided his eyes instinctively. They seemed to know too much. + +"Will he--do you think he win--live?" she whispered. + +He made a gesture of the hands that seemed to indicate infinite +possibilities. "I do not think at present. But I must be +undisturbed. Go to your room, madam, and rest! Your husband will +come to you later and tell you what I have done--or failed to do." + +He spoke with absolute fluency but with a foreign accent. His +hands were busy with the bandages, dexterous, clawlike hands that +looked as if they were delving for treasure. + +She watched him, speechless and fascinated, for a few seconds. +Then Burke set the lamp upon the chair against which she had leaned +all the night, and bent down to her. + +"Let me help you!" he said. + +A shuddering horror of the sight before her came upon her. She +yielded herself to him in silence. She was shivering violently +from head to foot. Her limbs were so numb she could not stand. He +raised her and drew her away. + +The next thing she knew was that she was sitting on the bed in her +own room, and he was making her drink brandy and water in so +burning a mixture that it stung her throat. + +She tried to protest, but he would take no refusal till she had +swallowed what he had poured out. Then he put down the glass, +tucked her feet up on the bed with an air of mastery, and spread a +rug over her. + +He would have left her then with a brief injunction to remain where +she was, but she caught and held his arm so that he was obliged to +pause. + +"Burke, is that dreadful man a doctor?" + +"The only one I could get hold of," said Burke. "Yes, he's a +doctor all right. Saul Kieff his name is. I admit he's a +scoundrel, but anyway he's keen on his job." + +"You think he'll save Guy?" she said tremulously. "Oh, Burke, he +must be saved! He must be saved!" + +An odd look came into Burke's eyes. She remembered it later, +though it was gone in an instant like the sudden flare of lightning +across a dark sky. + +"We shall do our best," he said. "You stay here till I come back!" + +She let him go. Somehow that look had given her a curious shock +though she did not understand it. She heard the door shut firmly +behind him, and she huddled herself down upon the pillow and lay +still. + +She wished he had not made her drink that fiery draught. All her +senses were in a tumult, and yet her body felt as if weighted with +lead. She lay listening tensely for every sound, but the silence +was like a blanket wrapped around her--a blanket which nothing +seemed to penetrate. + +It seemed to overwhelm her at last, that silence, to blot out the +clamour of her straining nerves, to deprive her of the power to +think. Though she did not know it, the stress of that night's +horror and vigil had worn her out. She sank at length into a deep +sleep from which it seemed that nought could wake her. And when +more than an hour later, Burke came, treading softly, and looked +upon her, he did not need to keep that burning hunger-light out of +his eyes. For she was wholly unconscious of him as though her +spirit were in another world. + +He looked and looked with a gaze that seemed as if it would consume +her. And at last he leaned over her, with arms outspread, and +touched her sunny, disordered hair with his lips. It was the +lightest touch, far too light to awaken her. But, as if some happy +thought had filtered down through the deeps of her repose, she +stirred in her sleep. She turned her face up to him with the faint +smile of a slumbering child. + +"Good night!" she murmured drowsily. + +Her eyes half-opened upon him. She gave him her lips. + +And as he stooped, with a great tremor, to kiss them, "Good night, +dear--Guy!" Her voice was fainter, more indistinct. She sank back +again into that deep slumber from which she had barely been roused. + +And Burke went from her with the flower-like memory of her kiss +upon his lips, and the dryness of ashes in his mouth. + + +It was several hours later that Sylvia awoke to full consciousness +and a piercing realization of a strange presence that watched by +her side. + +She opened her eyes wide with a curious conviction that there was a +cat in the room, and then all in a moment she met the cool, +repellent stare of the black-browed doctor whom Burke had brought +from Ritzen. + +A little quiver of repugnance went through her at the sight, +swiftly followed by a sharp thrill of indignation. What was he +doing seated there by her side--this swarthy-faced stranger whom +she had disliked instinctively at first sight? + +And then--suddenly it rushed through her mind that he was the +bearer of evil tidings, that he had come to tell her that Guy was +dead. She raised herself sharply. + +"Oh, what is it? What is it?" she gasped. "Tell me quickly! It's +better for me to know. It's better for me to know." + +He put out a narrow, claw-like hand and laid it upon her arm. His +eyes were like onyxes, Oriental, quite emotionless. + +"Do not agitate yourself, madam!" he said. "My patient is better. +I think, that with care--he may live. That is, if he finds it +worth while." + +"What do you mean?" she said in a whisper. + +That there was a veiled meaning to his words she was assured at the +outset. His whole bearing conveyed something mysterious, something +sinister, to her startled imagination. She wanted to shake off the +hand upon her arm, but she had to suffer it though the man's bare +touch revolted her. + +He was leaning slightly towards her, but yet his face was utterly +inanimate. It was obvious that though he had imposed his +personality upon her with a definite end in view, he was personally +totally indifferent as to whether he achieved that end or not. + +"I mean," he said, after a quiet pause, "that the desire to live is +sometimes the only medicine that is of any avail. I know Guy +Ranger. He is a fool in many ways, but not in all. He is not for +instance fool enough to hang on to life if it holds nothing worth +having. He was born with an immense love of life. He would not +have done this thing if he had not somehow lost this gift--for it +is a gift. If he does not get it back--somehow--then," the black, +stony eyes looked into hers without emotion--"he will die." + +She shrank at the cold deliberation of his words. "Oh no--no! Not +like this! Not--by his own hand!" + +"Ah!" He leaned towards her, bringing his sallow, impassive +countenance close to hers, repulsively close, to her over-acute +sensibilities. "And how is that to be prevented? Who is to give +him that priceless remedy--the only medicine that can save him? +Can I?" He lifted his shoulders expressively, indicating his own +helplessness. And then in a voice dropped to a whisper, "Can you?" + +She did not answer him. There was something horrible to her in +that low-spoken question, something that yet possessed for her a +species of evil fascination that restrained her from open revolt. + +He waited for a while, his eyes so immovably fixed upon hers that +she had a mild wonder if they were lidless--as the eyes of a +serpent. + +Then at last, through grim pale lips that did not seem to move, he +spoke again. "Madam, it lies with you whether Guy Ranger lives or +dies. You can open to him the earthly paradise or you can hurl him +back to hell. I have only Drought him a little way. I cannot keep +him. Even now, he is slipping--he is slipping from my hold. It is +you, and you alone, who can save him. How do I know this thing? +How do I know that the sun rises in the east? I--have--seen. It +is you who have taken from him the desire to live--perhaps +unintentionally; that I do not know. It is you--and you alone--who +can restore it. Need I say more than this to open your eyes? +Perhaps they are already open. Perhaps already your heart has been +in communion with his. If so, then you know that I have told you +the truth. If you really desire to save him--and I think you +do--then everything else in life must go to that end. Women were +made for sacrifice, they say." A sardonic flicker that was +scarcely a smile touched his face. "Well, that is the only way of +saving him. If you fail him, he will go under." + +He got up with the words. He had evidently said his say. As his +hand left hers, Sylvia drew a deep hard breath, as of one emerging +from a suffocating atmosphere. She had never felt so oppressed, so +fettered, with evil in the whole of her life. And yet he had not +urged her to any line of action. He had merely somewhat baldly, +wholly dispassionately, told her the truth, and the very absence of +emotion with which he had spoken had driven conviction to her soul. +She saw him go with relief, but his words remained like a stone at +the bottom of her heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE REMEDY + +When Sylvia went to Guy a little later, she found him installed in +Burke's room. Burke himself was out on the farm, but it was past +the usual hour for luncheon, and she knew he would be returning +soon. + +Kieff rose up noiselessly from the bedside at her entrance, and she +saw that Guy was asleep. She was conscious of a surging, +passionate longing to be alone with him as she crept forward. The +silent presence of this stranger had a curious, nauseating effect +upon her. She suppressed a shudder as she passed him. + +He stood behind her in utter immobility as she bent over the bed. +Guy was lying very still, but though he was pale, the deathly look +had gone from his face. He looked unutterably tired, but very +peaceful. + +Lying so, with all the painful lines of his face relaxed, she saw +the likeness of his boyhood very clearly on his quiet features, and +her heart gave a quick hard throb within her that sent the hot +tears to her eyes. The sight of him grew blurred and dim. She +just touched his black hair with trembling fingers as she fought +back a sob. + +And then quite suddenly his eyes were open, looking at her. The +pupils were enormously enlarged, giving him an unfamiliar look. +But at sight of her, a quick smile flashed across his face--his old +glad smile of welcome, and she knew him again. "Hullo--darling!" +he said. + +She could not speak in answer. She could only lay her hand over +his and hold it fast. + +He went on, his speech rapid, slightly incoherent. Guy had been +like that, she remembered, in moments of any excitement or stress. + +"I've had a beastly bad dream, sweetheart. Thought I'd lost +you--somehow I was messing about in a filthy fog, and there were +beastly precipices about. And you--you were calling +somewhere--telling me not to forget something. What was it? I'm +dashed if I can remember now." + +"It--doesn't matter," she managed to say, though her voice was +barely audible. + +He opened his eyes a little wider. "Are you crying, I say? What's +the matter? What, darling? You're not crying for me? Eh? I +shall get over it. I always come up again. Ask Kelly! Ask Kieff!" + +"Yes, you always come up again," Kieff said, in his brief, +mechanical voice. + +Guy threw him a look that was a curious blend of respect and +disgust. "Hullo, Lucifer!" he said. "What are you doing here? +Come to show us the quickest way to hell? He's an authority on +that, Sylvia. He knows all the shortest cuts." + +He broke off with a sudden hard breath, and Sylvia saw again that +awful shadow gather in his eyes. She made way for Kieff, though +not consciously at his behest, and there followed a dreadful +struggling upon which she could not look. Kieff spoke once or +twice briefly, authoritatively, and was answered by a sound more +anguished than any words. Then at the end of several unspeakable +seconds she heard Burke's footstep outside the door. She turned to +him as he entered, with a thankfulness beyond all expression. + +"Oh, Burke, he is suffering--so terribly. Do see if you can help!" + +He passed her swiftly and went to the other side of the bed. +Somehow his presence braced her. She looked again upon Guy in his +extremity. + +He was propped against Kieff's shoulder, his face quite livid, his +eyes roaming wildly round the room, till suddenly they found and +rested upon her own. All her life Sylvia was to remember the +appeal those eyes held for her. It was as if his soul were crying +aloud to her for freedom. + +She came to the foot of the bed. The anguish had entered into her +also, and it was more than she could bear. + +She turned from Burke to Kieff. "Oh, do anything--anything--to +help him!" she implored him. "Don't let him suffer--like this!" + +Kieff's hand went to his pocket. "There is only one thing," he +said. + +Burke, his arm behind Guy's convulsed body, made an abrupt gesture +with his free hand. "Wait! He'll come through it. He did before." + +And still those tortured eyes besought Sylvia, urged her, entreated +her. + +She left the foot of the bed, and went to Kieff. Her lips felt +stiff and numb, but she forced them to speak. + +"If you have anything that will help him, give it to him now! +Don't wait! Don't wait!" + +Kieff the impassive, nodded briefly, and took his hand from his +pocket. + +"Wait! He is better," Burke said. + +But, "Don't wait! Don't wait!" whispered Sylvia. "Don't let him +die--like this!" + +Kieff held out to her a small leather case. "Open it!" he said. + +She obeyed him though her hands were trembling. She took out the +needle and syringe it contained. + +Burke said no more. Perhaps he realized that the cause was already +lost. And so he looked on in utter silence while Sylvia and Kieff +between them administered the only thing that could ease the awful +suffering that seemed greater than flesh and blood could bear. + +It took effect with marvellous quickness--that remedy of Kieff's. +It was, to Sylvia's imagination, like the casting forth of a demon. +Guy's burning eyes ceased to implore her. He strained no longer in +the cruel grip. His whole frame relaxed, and he even smiled at her +as they laid him back against the pillows. + +"That's better," he said. + +"Thank God!" Sylvia whispered. + +His eyes were drooping heavily. He tried to keep them open. "Hold +my hand!" he murmured to her. + +She sat on the edge of the bed, and took it between her own. + +His finger pressed hers. "That's good, darling. Now I'm happy. +Wish we--could go on like this--always. Don't you?" + +"No," she whispered back. "I want you well again." + +"Ah!" His eyes were closing; he opened them again. "You mean +that, sweetheart? You really want me?" + +"Of course I do," she said. + +Guy was still smiling but there was pathos in his smile. "Ah, that +makes a difference," he said, "--all the difference. That means +you've quite forgiven me. Quite, Sylvia?" + +"Quite," she answered, and she spoke straight from her heart. She +had forgotten Burke, forgotten Kieff, forgotten everyone in that +moment save Guy, the dear lover of her youth. + +And he too was looking at her with eyes that saw her alone. "Kiss +me, little sweetheart!" he said softly. "And then I'll know--for +sure." + +It was boyishly spoken, and she could not refuse. She had no +thought of refusing. + +As in the old days when they had been young together, her heart +responded to the call of his. She leaned down to him instantly and +very lovingly, and kissed him. + +"Sure you want me?" whispered Guy. + +"God knows I do," she answered him very earnestly. + +He smiled at her and closed his eyes. "Good night!" he murmured. + +"Good night, dear!" she whispered back. + +And then in the silence that followed she knew that he fell asleep. + +Someone touched her shoulder, and she looked up. Burke was +standing by her side. + +"You can leave him now," he said. "He won't wake." + +He spoke very quietly, but she thought his face was stern. A faint +throb of misgiving went through her. She slipped her hand free and +rose. + +She saw that Kieff had already gone, and for a moment she +hesitated. But Burke took her steadily by the arm, and led her +from the room. + +"He won't wake," he reiterated. "You must have something to eat," + +They entered the sitting-room, and she saw with relief that Kieff +was not there either. The table was spread for luncheon, and Burke +led her to it. + +"Sit down!" he said. "Never mind about Kieff! He can look after +himself." + +She sat down in silence. Somehow she felt out of touch with Burke +at that moment. Her long vigil beside Guy seemed in some +inexplicable fashion to have cut her off from him. Or was it those +strange words that Kieff had uttered and which even yet were +running in her brain? Whatever it was, it prevented all intimacy +between them. They might have been chance-met strangers sitting at +the same board. He waited upon her as if he were thinking of other +things. + +Her own thoughts were with Guy alone. She ate mechanically, half +unconsciously watching the door, her ears strained to catch any +sound. + +"He will probably sleep for hours," Burke said, breaking the +silence. + +She looked at him with a start. She had almost forgotten his +presence. She met his eyes and felt for a few seconds oddly +disconcerted. It was with an effort she spoke in answer. + +"I hope he will. That suffering is so terrible." + +"It's bad enough," said Burke. "But the morphia habit is worse. +That's damnable." + +She drew a sharp breath. She felt almost as if he had struck her +over the heart. "Oh, but surely--" she said--"surely--having it +just once--like that----" + +"Do you think he is the sort of man to be satisfied with just once +of anything?" said Burke. + +The question did not demand an answer, she made none. With an +effort she controlled her distress and changed the subject. + +"How long will Dr. Kieff stay?" + +Burke's eyes were upon her again. She wished he would not look at +her so intently. "He will probably see him through," he said. +"How long that will take it is impossible to say. Not long, I +hope." + +"You don't like him?" she ventured. + +"Personally," said Burke, "I detest him. He is not out here in his +professional capacity. In fact I have a notion that he was kicked +out of that some years ago. But that doesn't prevent him being a +very clever surgeon. He likes a job of this kind." + +Sylvia caught at the words. "Then he ought to succeed," she said. +"Surely he will succeed!" + +"I think you may trust him to do his best," Burke said. + +They spoke but little during the rest of the meal. There seemed to +be nothing to say. In some curious fashion Sylvia felt paralyzed. +She could not turn her thought in any but the one direction, and +she knew subtly but quite unmistakably that in this they were not +in sympathy. It was a relief to her when Burke rose from the +table. She was longing to get back to Guy. She had an almost +overwhelming desire to be alone with him, even though he lay +unconscious of her. They had known each other so long ago, before +she had come to this land of strangers. Was it altogether +unnatural that meeting thus again the old link should have been +forged anew? And his need of her was so great--infinitely greater +now than it had ever been before. + +She lingered a few moments to set the table in order for Kieff; +then turned to go to him, and was surprised to find Burke still +standing by the door. + +She looked at him questioningly, and as if in answer he laid his +hand upon her shoulder, detaining her. He did not speak +immediately, and she had a curious idea that he was embarrassed. + +"What is it, partner?" she said, withdrawing her thoughts from Guy +with a conscious effort. + +He bent slightly towards her. His hold upon her was not wholly +steady. It was as if some hidden force vibrated strongly within +him, making itself felt to his very finger-tips. Yet his face was +perfectly composed, even grim, as he said, "There is one thing I +want to say to you before you go. Sylvia, I haven't asserted any +right over you so far. But don't forget--don't let anyone induce +you to forget--that the right is mine! I may claim it--some day." + +That aroused her from preoccupation very effectually. The colour +flamed in her face. "Burke! I don't understand you!" she said, +speaking quickly and rather breathlessly, for her heart was beating +fast and hard. "Have you gone mad?" + +"No, I am not mad," he said, and faintly smiled. + +"I am just looking after our joint interests, that's all." + +She opened her eyes wide. "Still I don't understand you," she +said. "I thought you promised--I thought we agreed--that you were +never to interfere with my liberty." + +"Unless you abused it," said Burke. + +She flinched a little in spite of herself, so uncompromising were +both his tone and attitude. But in a moment she drew herself +erect, facing him fearlessly. + +"I don't think you know--quite--what you are saying to me," she +said. "You are tired, and you are looking at things--all crooked. +Will you please take a rest this afternoon? I am sure you need it. +And to-night--" She paused a moment, for, her courage +notwithstanding, she had begun to tremble--"to-night,"--she said +again, and still paused, feeling his hand tighten upon her, feeling +her heart quicken almost intolerably under its weight. + +"Yes?" he said, his voice low, intensely quiet, "Please finish! +What am I to do to-night?" + +She faced him bravely, with all her strength. "I hope," she said, +"you will come and tell me you are sorry." + +He threw up his head with a sharp gesture. She saw his eyes kindle +and burn with a flame she dared not meet. + +A swift misgiving assailed her. She tried to release herself, but +he took her by the other shoulder also, holding her before him. + +"And if I do all that," he said, a deep quiver in his voice that +thrilled her through and through, "what shall I get in return? How +shall I be rewarded?" + +She gripped her self-control with a great effort, summoning that +high courage of hers which had never before failed her. + +She smiled straight up at him, a splendid, resolute smile. "You +shall have--the kiss of peace," she said. + +His expression changed. For a moment his hold became a grip that +hurt her--bruised her. She closed her eyes with an involuntary +catch of the breath, waiting, expecting she knew not what. Then, +very suddenly, the strain was over. He set her free and turned +from her. + +"Thank you." he said, in a voice that sounded oddly strangled. +"But I don't find that--especially satisfying--just now." + +His hands were clenched as he left her. She did not dare to follow +him or call him back. + + + + +PART III + +CHAPTER I + +THE NEW ERA + +Looking back later, it almost seemed to Sylvia that the days that +followed were as an interval between two acts in the play of life. +It was a time of transition, though what was happening within her +she scarcely realized. + +One thing only did she fully recognize, and that was that the old +frank comradeship between herself and Burke had come to an end. +During all the anxiety of those days and the many fluctuations +through which Guy passed, Burke came and went as an outsider, +scarcely seeming to be interested in what passed, never +interfering. He never spoke to Kieff unless circumstances +compelled him, and with Sylvia herself he was so reticent as to be +almost forbidding. Her mind was too full of Guy, too completely +occupied with the great struggle for his life, to allow her +thoughts to dwell very much upon any other subject. She saw that +Burke's physical wants were attended to, and that was all that she +had time for just then. He was sleeping in the spare hut which she +had prepared for Guy with such tender care, and she was quite +satisfied as to his comfort there. It came to be something of a +relief when every evening he betook himself thither. Though she +never actually admitted it to herself, she was always more at ease +when he was out of the bungalow. + +She and Kieff were fighting inch by inch to save Guy, and she could +not endure any distractions while the struggle lasted. For it was +a desperate fight, and there was little rest for either of them. +Her first sensation of repugnance for this man had turned into a +species of unwilling admiration, His adroitness, his resource, the +almost uncanny power of his personality, compelled her to a curious +allegiance. She gave him implicit obedience, well knowing that, +though in all else they were poles asunder, in this thing they were +as one. They were allied in the one great effort to defeat the +Destroyer. They fought day and night, shoulder to shoulder, never +yielding, never despairing, never slacking. + +And very gradually at last the tide that had ebbed so low began to +turn. Through bitter suffering, often against his will, Guy Ranger +was drawn slowly back again to the world he had so nearly left. +Kieff never let him suffer for long. He gave him oblivion whenever +the weakened endurance threatened to fail. And Sylvia, seeing that +the flickering strength was always greater under the influence of +Kieff's remedy, raised no protest. They fought death with the +weapon of death. It would be time enough when the battle was won +to cast that weapon aside. + +During those days of watching and conflict, she held little +converse with Guy. He was like a child, content in his waking +hours to have her near him, and fretful if she were ever absent. +Under Kieff's guidance, she nursed him with unfailing care, +developing a skill with which she had never credited herself. As +gradually his strength returned, he would have her do everything +for him, resenting even Kieff's interference though never actively +resisting his authority. He seemed to stand in awe of Kieff, +Sylvia noticed, a feeling from which she herself was not wholly +free. For there was a subtle mastery about him which influenced +her in spite of herself. But she had put aside her instinctive +dislike of the man because of the debt she owed him. He had +brought Guy back, had wrenched him from the very jaws of Death, and +she would never forget it. He had saved her from a life-long +sorrow. + +And so, as slowly Guy returned, she schooled herself to subdue a +certain distrust of him which was never wholly absent from her +consciousness. She forced herself to treat him as a friend. She +silenced the warning voice within her that had bade her so +constantly beware. Perhaps her own physical endurance had begun to +waver a little after the long strain. Undoubtedly his influence +over her was such as it could scarcely have become under any other +circumstances. Her long obedience to his will in the matter of Guy +had brought her to a state of submission at which once she would +have scoffed. And when at last, the worst of the battle over, she +was overtaken by an overpowering weariness of mind and body, all +things combined to place her at a hopeless disadvantage. + +One day, after three weeks of strenuous nursing, she quitted Guy's +room very suddenly to battle with a ghastly feeling of faintness +which threatened to overwhelm her. Kieff, who had been present +with Guy, followed her almost immediately to her own room, and +found her with a deathly face groping against the wall as one +stricken blind. + +He took her firmly by the shoulders and forced her down over the +back of a chair, holding her so with somewhat callous strength of +purpose, till with a half-hysterical gasp she begged him to set her +free. The colour had returned to her face when she stood up, but +those few moments of weakness had bereft her of her self-control. +She could not restrain her tears. + +Kieff showed no emotion of any sort. With professional calm, he +put her down upon the bed, and stood over her, feeling her pulse. + +"You want sleep," he said. + +She turned her face away from him, ashamed of the weakness she +could not hide. "Yes, I know. But I can't sleep. I'm always +listening. I can't help it. My brain feels wound up. +Sometimes--sometimes it feels as if it hurts me to shut my eyes." + +"There's a remedy for that," said Kieff, and his hand went to his +pocket. + +She looked at him startled. "Oh, not that! Not that! I couldn't. +It would be wrong." + +"Not if I advise it," said Kieff, with a self-assurance that seemed +to knock aside her resistance as of no account. + +She knew she ought to have resisted further, but somehow she could +not. His very impassivity served to make opposition impossible. +It came to her that the inevitable was upon her, and whatever she +said would make no difference. Moreover, she was too tired greatly +to care. + +She uttered a little cry when a few seconds later she felt the +needle pierce her flesh, but she submitted without a struggle. +After all, what did it matter for once? And she needed rest so much. + +With a sigh she surrendered herself, and was amazed at the swift +relief that came to her. It was like the rolling away of an +immense weight, and immediately she seemed to float upwards, +upwards, like a soaring bird. + +Kieff remained by her side, but his presence did not trouble her. +She was possessed by an ecstasy so marvellous that she had no room +for any other emotion; She was as one borne on wings, ascending, +ever ascending, through an atmosphere of transcendent gold. + +Once he touched her forehead, and bringing his hand slowly +downwards compelled her to close her eyes. A brief darkness came +upon her, and she uttered a muffled protest. But when he lifted +his hand again, her eyes did not open. The physical had fallen +from her, material things had ceased to matter. She was free--free +as the ether through which she floated. She was mounting upwards, +upwards, upwards, through celestial morning to her castle at the +top of the world. And the magic--the magic that beat in her +veins--was the very elixir of life within her, inspiring her, +uplifting her. For a space she hovered thus, still mounting, but +imperceptibly, caught as it were between earth and heaven. Then +the golden glamour about her turned to a mystic haze. Strange +visions, but half comprehended, took shape and dissolved before +her. She believed that she was floating among the mountain-crests +with the Infinite all about her. The wonder of it and the rapture +were beyond all utterance, beyond the grasp of human knowledge; the +joy exceeded all that she had ever known. And so by exquisite +phases, she entered at last a great vastness--a slumber-space where +all things were forgotten, lost in the radiance of an unbroken +peace. + +She folded the wings of her enchantment with absolute contentment +and slept. She had come to a new era in her existence. She had +reached the top of the world. . . . + +It was long, long after that she awoke, returning to earth with the +feeling of one revisiting old haunts after half a lifetime. She +was very tired, and her head throbbed painfully, but at the back of +her brain was an urgent sense of something needed, something that +must be done. She raised herself with immense effort,--and met the +eyes of Burke seated by her side. + +He was watching her with a grave, unstirring attention that did not +waver for an instant as she moved. It struck her that there was a +strange remoteness about him, almost as if he belonged to another +world. Or was it she--she who had for a space overstepped the +boundary and wandered awhile through the Unknown? + +He spoke, and in his voice was a depth that awed her. + +"Do you know me?" he said. + +She gazed at him, bewildered, wondering. "But of course I know +you! Why do you ask? Are you--changed in any way?" + +He made an odd movement, as if the question in her wide eyes +pierced him. He did not answer her in words; only after a moment +he took her hand and pushed up the sleeve as though looking for +something. + +She lay passive for a few seconds, watching him. Then suddenly, +blindly, she realized what was the object of his search. She made +a quick, instinctive movement to frustrate him. + +His hand tightened instantly upon hers; he pointed to a tiny mark +upon the inside of her arm. "How did you get that?" he said. + +His eyes looked straight into hers. There was something pitiless, +something almost brutal, in their regard. In spite of herself she +flinched, and lowered her own. + +"Answer me!" he said. + +She felt the hot colour rush in a guilty flood over her face. "It +was only--for once," she faltered. "I wanted sleep, and I couldn't +get it." + +"Kieff gave it you," he said, his tone grimly insistent. + +She nodded. "Yes. He meant well. He saw I was fagged out." + +Burke was silent for a space, still grasping her hand. Her head +was throbbing dizzily, but she would not lower it to the pillow +again in his presence. She felt almost like a prisoner awaiting +sentence. + +"Did he give it you against your will?" he asked at length. + +"Not altogether." Her voice was almost a whisper. Her heart was +beating with hard, uneven strokes. She felt sick and faint. + +Burke moved suddenly, releasing her hand. He rose with that +decision characteristic of him and walked across the room. She +heard the splash of water in a basin, and then he came back to her. +As if she had been a child, he raised her to lean against him, and +proceeded very quietly to bathe her face and head with ice-cold +water. + +She shrank at the chill of it, but he persisted in his task, and +very soon she began to feel refreshed. + +"Thank you," she murmured at last. "I am better now. I will get +up." + +"You had better lie still for the present," he said. "I will send +you in some supper later." + +His tone was repressive. She could not look him in the face. But, +as he made as if he would rise, something impelled her to lay a +detaining hand upon his arm. + +"Please wait a minute!" she said, + +He waited, and in a moment, with difficulty, she went on. + +"Burke, I have done wrong, I know. I am sorry. Please don't be +angry with me! I--can't bear it." + +There was a catch in her voice that she could not restrain. She +had a great longing to hide her face on his shoulder and burst into +tears. But something--some inner, urgent warning--held her back. + +Burke sat quite still. There was a touch of rigidity in his +attitude. "All right," he said at last. "I am not angry--with +you." + +Her fingers closed upon his arm. "Please don't quarrel with Dr. +Kieff about it!" she said nervously. "It won't happen again." + +She felt him stiffen still further at her words. "It certainly +won't," he said briefly, "Tell me, have you got any of the infernal +stuff by you?" + +She glanced up at him, startled by the question. "Of course I +haven't!" she said. + +His eyes held a glitter that was almost bestial. She dropped her +hand from, his arm as if she had received an electric shock. He +got up instantly. + +"Very well. I will leave you now. You had better go to bed." + +"I must see Guy first," she objected. + +"I am attending to Guy," he said. + +That opened her eyes. She started up, facing him, a sudden sharp +misgiving at her heart. "Burke! You! Where--is Dr. Kieff?" + +He uttered a grim, exultant sound that made her quiver. "He is on +his way back to Ritzen--or Brennerstadt. He didn't mention which." + +"Ah!" Her hands were tightly clasped upon her breast. "What--what +have you done to him?" she panted. + +Burke had risen to his feet. "I have--helped him on his way, +that's all," he said. + +She tried to stand up also, but the moment she touched the ground, +she reeled. He caught her, and held her, facing him. His eyes +shone with a glow as of molten metal, + +"Do you think," he said, breathing deeply, "that I would suffer +that accursed fiend to drag my wife--my wife--down into that +infernal slough?" + +She was trembling from head to foot; her knees doubled under her, +but he held her up. The barely repressed violence of his speech +was perceptible in his hold also. She had no strength to meet it. + +"But what of Guy?" she whispered voicelessly. "He will die!" + +"Guy!" he said, and in the word there was a bitterness +indescribable. "Is be to be weighed in the balance against you?" + +She was powerless to reason with him, and perhaps it was as well +for her that this was so, for he was in no mood to endure +opposition. His wrath seemed to beat about her like a storm-blast. +But yet he held her up, and after a moment, seeing her weakness, he +softened somewhat. + +"There! Lie down again!" he said, and lowered her to the bed. +"I'll see to Guy. Only remember," he stooped over her, and to her +strained senses he loomed gigantic, "if you ever touch that stuff +again, my faith in you will be gone. And where there is no trust, +you can't expect--honour." + +The words seemed to pierce her, but he straightened himself the +moment after and turned to go. + +She covered her face with her hands as the door closed upon him. +She felt as if she had entered upon a new era, indeed, and she +feared with a dread unspeakable to look upon the path which lay +before her. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +INTO BATTLE + +When Sylvia saw Guy again, he greeted her with an odd expression in +his dark eyes, half-humorous, half-speculative. He was lying +propped on pillows by the open window, a cigarette and a box of +matches by his side. + +"Hullo, Sylvia!" he said. "You can come in. The big _baas_ has +set his house in order and gone out." + +The early morning sunshine was streaming across his bed. She +thought he looked wonderfully better, and marvelled at the change. + +He smiled at her as she drew near. "Yes, I've been washed and fed +and generally made respectable. Thank goodness that brute Kieff +has gone anyway! I couldn't have endured him much longer. What +was the grand offence? Did he make love to you or what?" + +"Make love to me! Of course not!" Sylvia flushed indignantly at +the suggestion. + +Guy laughed; he seemed in excellent spirits. "He'd better not, +what? But the big _baas_ was very angry with him, I can tell you. +And I can't think it was on my account. I'm inoffensive enough, +heavens knows." + +He reached up a hand as she stood beside him, and took and held +hers. + +"You're a dear girl, Sylvia," he said. "Just the very sight of you +does me good. You're not sorry Kieff has gone?" + +"Sorry! No!" She looked down at him with doubt in her eyes. +"Only--we owe him a good deal, remember. He saved your life." + +"Oh, that!" said Guy lightly. "You may set your mind quite at rest +on that score, my dear. He wouldn't have done it if he hadn't felt +like it. He pleases himself in all he does. But I should like to +have witnessed his exit last night. That, I imagine, was more +satisfactory from Burke's point of view than from his. +He--Burke--came back with that smile-on-the-face-of-the-tiger +expression of his. You've seen it, I daresay. It was very much in +evidence last night." + +Sylvia repressed a sudden shiver. "Oh, Guy! What do you think +happened?" + +He gave her hand a sudden squeeze. "Nothing to worry about, I do +assure you. He's a devil of a fellow when he's roused, isn't he? +But--so far as my knowledge goes--he's never killed anyone yet. +Sit down, old girl, and let's have a smoke together! I'm allowed +just one to-day--as a reward for good behaviour." + +"Are you being good?" said Sylvia. + +Guy closed one eye. "Oh, I'm a positive saint to-day. I've +promised--almost--never to be naughty again. Do you know Burke +slept on the floor in here last night? Decent of him, wasn't it?" + +Sylvia glanced swiftly round. "Did he? How uncomfortable for him! +He mustn't do that again," + +"He didn't notice," Guy assured her. "He was much too pleased with +himself. I rather like him for that, you know. He has a wonderful +faculty for--what shall we call it?--mental detachment? Or, is it +physical? Anyway, he knows how to enjoy his emotions, whatever +they are, and he doesn't let any little personal discomfort stand +in his way." + +He ended with a careless laugh from which all bitterness was +absent, and after a little pause Sylvia sat down by his side. His +whole attitude amazed her this morning. Some magic had been at +work. The fretful misery of the past few weeks had passed like a +cloud. This was her own Guy come back to her, clean, sane, with +the boyish humour that she had always loved in him, and the old +quick light of understanding and sympathy in his eyes. + +He watched her with a smile. "Aren't you going to light up, too? +Come, you'd better. It'll tone you up," + +She looked back at him. "Had you better smoke?" she said. "Won't +it start your cough?" + +He lifted an imperious hand. "It won't kill me if it does. Why +are you looking at me like that?" + +"Like what?" she said. + +"As if I'd come back from the dead." He frowned at her abruptly +though his eyes still smiled. "Don't!" he said. + +She smiled in answer, and picked up the matchbox. It was of silver +and bore his initials. + +"Yes," Guy said, "I've taken great care of it, haven't I? It's +been my mascot all these years." + +She took out a match and struck it without speaking. There was +something poignant in her silence. She was standing again in the +wintry dark of her father's park, pressed close to Guy's heart, and +begging him brokenly to use that little parting gift of hers with +thoughts of her when more than half the world lay between them. +Guy's cigarette was in his mouth. She stooped forward to light it. +Her hand was trembling. In a moment he reached up, patted it +lightly, and took the match from her fingers. The action said more +than words. It was as if he had gently turned a page in the book +of life, and bade her not to look back. + +"Now don't you bother about me!" he said. "I'm being good--as you +see. So go and cook the dinner or do anything else that appeals to +your housekeeper's soul! That is, if you feel it's immoral to +smoke a cigarette at this early hour. Needless to say, I shall be +charmed if you will join me." + +But he did not mean to talk upon intimate subjects, and his tone +conveyed as much. She lingered for a while, and they spoke of the +farm, the cattle, Burke's prospects, everything under the sun save +personal matters. Yet there was no barrier in their reserve. They +avoided these by tacit consent. + +In the end she left him, feeling strangely comforted. Burke had +been right. The devil had gone out of Guy, and he had come back. + +She pondered the matter as she went about her various tasks, but +she found no solution thereof. Something must have happened to +cause the change in him; she could not believe that Kieff's +departure had effected it. Her thoughts went involuntarily to +Burke--Burke whose wrath had been so terrible the previous night. +Was it due to him? Had he accomplished what neither Kieff's skill +nor her devotion had been able to achieve? Yet he had spoken of +Guy as one of his failures. He had impressed upon her the fact +that Guy's, case was hopeless. She had even been convinced of it +herself until to-day. But to-day all things were changed. Guy had +come back. + +The thought of her next meeting with Burke tormented her +continually, checking all gladness. She dreaded it unspeakably, +listening for him with nerves on edge during the busy hours that +followed. + +She made the Kaffir boy bring the camp-bed out of the guest-hut +which Burke had occupied of late and set it up in a corner of Guy's +room. Kieff had slept on a long-chair in the sitting-room, taking +his rest at odd times and never for any prolonged spell. She had +even wondered sometimes if he ever really slept at all, so alert +had he been at the slightest sound. But she knew that Burke hated +the long-chair because it creaked at every movement, and she was +determined that he should not spend another night on the floor. +So, while with trepidation she awaited him, she made such +preparations as she could for his comfort. + +Joe, the house-boy, was very clumsy in all his ways, and Guy, +looking on, seemed to derive considerable amusement from his +performance. "I always did like Joe," he remarked. "There's +something about his mechanism that is irresistibly comic. Oh, do +leave him alone, Sylvia! Let him arrange the thing upside down if +he wants to!" + +Joe's futility certainly had something of the comic order about it. +He had a dramatic fashion of rolling his eyes when expectant of +rebuke, which was by no means seldom. And the vastness of his +smile was almost bewildering. Sylvia had never been able quite to +accustom herself to his smile. + +"He's exactly like a golliwog, isn't he?" said Guy. "His head will +split in two if you encourage him." + +But Sylvia, hot and anxious, found it impossible to view Joe's +exhibition with enjoyment. He was more stupid in the execution of +her behests than she had ever found him before, and at length, +losing patience, she dismissed him and proceeded to erect the bed +herself. + +She was in the midst of this when there came the sound of a step in +the room, and Guy's quick, + +"Hullo!" told her of the entrance of a third person. She stood up +sharply, and met Burke face to face. + +She was panting a little from her exertions, and her hand went to +her side. For the moment a horrible feeling of discomfiture +overwhelmed her. His look was so direct; it seemed to go straight +through her. + +"What is this for?" he said. + +She mastered her embarrassment with a swift effort. "Guy said you +slept on the floor last night. I am sure it wasn't very +comfortable, so I have brought this in instead. You don't mind?" +with a glance at him that held something of appeal. + +"I mind you putting it up yourself," he said briefly. "Sit down! +Where's that lazy hound, Joe?" + +"Oh, don't call Joe!" Guy begged. "He has already reduced her to +exasperation. She won't listen to me either when I tell her that I +can look after myself at night. You tell her, Burke! She'll +listen to you perhaps." + +But Burke ended the matter without further discussion by putting +her on one side and finishing the job himself. Then he stood up. + +"Let Mary Ann do the rest! You have been working too hard. Come, +and have some lunch! You'll be all right, Guy?" + +"Oh, quite," Guy assured him. "Mary Ann can take care of me. +She'll enjoy it." + +Sylvia looked back at him over her shoulder as she went out, but +she did not linger. There was something imperious about Burke just +then. + +They entered the sitting-room together. "Look here!" he said. +"You're not to tire yourself out. Guy is convalescent now. Let +him look after himself for a bit!" + +"I haven't been doing anything for Guy," she objected. "Only I +can't have you sleeping on the floor." + +"What's it matter," he said gruffly, "where or how I sleep?" And +then suddenly he took her by the shoulders and held her before him. +"Just look at me a moment!" he said. + +It was a definite command. She lifted her eyes, but the instant +they met his that overwhelming confusion came upon her again. His +gaze was so intent, so searching. All her defences seemed to go +down before it. + +Her lip suddenly quivered, and she turned her face aside. +"Be--kind to me, Burke!" she said, under her breath. + +He let her go; but he stood motionless for some seconds after as if +debating some point with himself. She went to the window and +nervously straightened the curtain. After a considerable pause his +voice came to her there. + +"I want you to rest this afternoon, and ride over with me to the +Merstons after tea. Will you do that?" + +She turned sharply. "And leave Guy? Oh, no!" + +Across the room she met his look, and she saw that he meant to have +his way. "I wish it," he said. + +She came slowly back to him. "Burke,--please! I can't do that. +It wouldn't be right. We can't leave Guy to the Kaffirs." + +"Guy can look after himself," he reiterated. "You have done +enough--too much--in that line already. He doesn't need you with +him all daylong." + +She shook her head. "I think he needs--someone. It wouldn't be +right--I know it wouldn't be right to leave him quite alone. +Besides, the Merstons won't want me. Why should I go?" + +"Because I wish it," he said again. And, after a moment, as she +stood silent, "Doesn't that count with you?" + +She looked up at him quickly, caught by something in his tone, "Of +course your wishes count with me!" she said. "You know they do. +But all the same--" She paused, searching for words. + +"Guy comes first," he suggested, in the casual voice of one stating +an acknowledged fact. + +She felt the hot colour rise to her temples. "Oh, it isn't fair of +you to say that!" she said. + +"Isn't it true?" said Burke. + +She collected herself to answer him. "It is only because his need +has been so great. If we had not put him first--before everything +else--we should never have saved him." + +"And now that he is saved," Burke said, a faint ring of irony in +his voice, "isn't it almost time to begin to consider--other needs? +Do you know you are looking very ill?" + +He asked the question abruptly, so abruptly that she started. Her +nerves were on edge that day. + +"Am I? No, I didn't know. It isn't serious anyway. Please don't +bother about that!" + +He smiled faintly. "I've got to bother. If you don't improve very +quickly, I shall take you to Brennerstadt to see a decent doctor +there." + +"Oh, don't be absurd!" she said, with quick annoyance. "I'm not +going to do anything so silly." + +He put his hand on her arm. "Sylvia, I've got something to say to +you," he said. + +She made a slight movement as if his touch were unwelcome. "Well? +What is it?" she said. + +"Only this." He spoke very steadily, but while he spoke his hand +closed upon her. You've gone your own way so far, and it hasn't +been specially good for you. That's why I'm going to pull you up +now, and make you go mine." + +"Make me!" Her eyes flashed sudden fire upon him. She was +overwrought and weary, and he had taken her by surprise, or she +would have dealt with the situation--and with him--far otherwise. +"Make me!" she repeated, and in second, almost before she knew it, +she was up in arms, facing him with open rebellion. "I'll defy you +to do that!" she said. + +The moment she had said it, the word still scarcely uttered, she +repented. She had not meant to defy him. The whole thing had come +about so swiftly, so unexpectedly, hardly, she felt, of her own +volition. And now, more than half against her will, she stood +committed to carry through an undertaking for which even at the +outset, she had no heart. For there was no turning back. The +challenge, once uttered, could not be withdrawn. She was no +coward. The idea came to her that if she blenched then she would +for all time forfeit his respect as well as her own. + +So she stood her ground, slim and upright, braced to defiance, +though at the back of all her bravery there lurked a sickening fear. + +Burke did not speak at once. His look scarcely altered, his hold +upon her remained perfectly steady and temperate. Yet in the pause +the beating of her heart rose between them--a hard, insistent +throbbing like the fleeing feet of a hunted thing. + +"You really mean that?" he asked at length. + +"Yes." Straight and unhesitating came her answer. It was now or +never, she told herself. But she was trembling, despite her utmost +effort. + +He bent a little, looking into her eyes. "You really wish me to +show you who is master?" he said. + +She met his look, but her heart was beating wildly, spasmodically. +There was that about him, a ruthlessness, a deadly intention, that +appalled her. The ground seemed to be rocking under her feet, and +a dreadful consciousness of sheer, physical weakness rushed upon +her. She went back against the table, seeking for support. + +But through it all, desperately she made her gallant struggle for +freedom. "You will never master me against my will," she said. +"I--I--I'll die first!" + +And then, as the last shred of her strength went from her she +covered her face with her hands, shutting him out. + +"Ah!" he said. "But who goes into battle without first counting +the cost?" + +He spoke sombrely, without anger; yet in the very utterance of the +words there was that which made her realize that she was beaten. +Whether he chose to avail himself of the advantage or not, the +victory was his. + +At the end of a long silence, she lifted her head. "I give you +best, partner," she said, and held out her hand to him with a +difficult smile. "I'd no right--to kick over the traces--like +that. I'm going to be good now--really." + +It was a frank acceptance of defeat; so frank as to be utterly +disarming. He took the proffered hand and held it closely, without +speaking. + +She was still trembling a little, but she had regained her +self-command. "I'm sorry I was such a little beast," she said. +"But you've got me beat. I'll try and make good somehow." + +He found his voice at that. It came with an odd harshness. +"Don't!" he said. "Don't!--You're not--beat. The battle isn't +always to the strong." + +She laughed faintly with more assurance, though still somewhat +shakily. "Not when the strong are too generous to take advantage, +perhaps. Thank you for that, partner. Now--do you mind if I take +Guy his nourishment?" + +She put the matter behind her with that inimitable lightness of +hers which of late she had seemed to have lost. She went from him +to wait upon Guy with the tremulous laugh upon her lips, and when +she returned she had fully recovered her self-control, and talked +with him upon many matters connected with the farm which he had not +heard her mention during all the period of her nursing. She +displayed all her old zest. She spoke as one keenly interested. +But behind it all was a feverish unrest, a nameless, intangible +quality that had never characterized her in former days. She was +elusive. Her old delicate confidence in him was absent. She +walked warily where once she had trodden without the faintest +hesitation. + +When the meal was over, she checked him as he was on the point of +going to Guy. "How soon ought we to start for the Merstons?" she +asked. + +He paused a moment. Then, "I will let you off to-day," he said. +"We will ride out to the _kopje_ instead." + +He thought she would hail this concession with relief, but she +shook her head instantly, her face deeply flushed. + +"No, I think not! We will go to the Merstons--if Guy is well +enough. We really ought to go." + +She baffled him completely. He turned away. "As you will," he +said. "We ought to start in two hours." + +"I shall be ready," said Sylvia. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE SEED + +"Well!" said Mrs. Merston, with her thin smile. "Are you still +enjoying the Garden of Eden, Mrs. Ranger?" + +Sylvia, white and tired after her ride, tried to smile in answer +and failed. "I shall be glad when the winter is over," she said. + +Mrs. Merston's colourless eyes narrowed a little, taking her in. +"You don't look so blooming as you did," she remarked. "I hear you +have had Guy Ranger on your hands." + +"Yes," Sylvia said, and coloured a little in spite of herself. + +"What has been the matter with him?" demanded Mrs. Merston. + +Sylvia hesitated, and in a moment the older woman broke into a +grating laugh. + +"Oh, you needn't trouble to dress it up in polite language. I know +the malady he suffers from. But I wonder Burke would allow you to +have anything to do with it. He has a reputation for being rather +particular." + +"He is particular," Sylvia said. + +Somehow she could not bring herself to tell Mrs. Merston the actual +cause of Guy's illness. She did not want to talk of it. But Mrs. +Merston was difficult to silence. + +"Is it true that that scoundrel Kieff has been staying at Blue Hill +Farm?" she asked next, still closely observant of her visitor's +face. + +Sylvia looked at her with a touch of animation. "I wonder why +everyone calls him that," she said. "Yes, he has been with us. He +is a doctor, a very clever one. I never liked him very much, but I +often wondered what he had done to be called that." + +"Oh, I only know what they say," said Mrs. Merston. "I imagine he +was in a large measure responsible for young Ranger's fall from +virtue in the first place--and that of a good many besides. He's +something of a vampire, so they say. There are plenty of them +about in this charming country." + +"How horrible!" murmured Sylvia, with a slight shudder as a vision +of the motionless, onyx eyes which had so often watched her rose in +her mind. + +"You're looking quite worn out," remarked Mrs. Merston. "Why did +you let your husband drag you over here? You had better stay the +night and have a rest." + +But Sylvia hastened to decline this invitation with much decision. +"I couldn't possibly do that, thank you. There is so much to be +seen to at home. It is very kind of you, but please don't suggest +it to Burke!" + +Mrs. Merston gave her an odd look. "Do you always do as your +husband tells you!" she said. "What a mistake!" + +Sylvia blushed very deeply. "I think--one ought," she said in a +low voice. + +"How old-fashioned of you!" said Mrs. Merston. "I don't indulge +mine to that extent. Are you going to Brennerstadt for the races +next month? Or has the oracle decreed that you are to stay behind?" + +"I don't know. I didn't know there were any." Sylvia looked out +through the mauve-coloured twilight to where Burke stood talking +with Merston by one of the hideous corrugated iron cattle-sheds. +The Merstons' farm certainly did not compare favourably with +Burke's. She could not actively condemn Mrs. Merston's obvious +distaste for all that life held for her. So far as she could see, +there was not a tree on the place, only the horrible prickly pear +bushes thrusting out their distorted arms as if exulting in their +own nakedness. + +They had had their tea in front of the bungalow, if it could be +dignified by such a name. It was certainly scarcely more than an +iron shed, and the heat within during the day was, she could well +imagine, almost unbearable. It was time to be starting back, and +she wished Burke would come. Her hostess's scoffing reference to +him made her long to get away. Politeness, however, forbade her +summarily to drop the subject just started. + +"Do you go to Brennerstadt for the races?" she asked. + +"I?" said Mrs. Merston, and laughed again her caustic, mirthless +laugh. "No! My acquaintance with Brennerstadt is of a less +amusing nature. When I go there, I merely go to be ill, and as +soon as I am partially recovered, I come back--to this." There was +inexpressible bitterness in her voice. "Some day," she said, '"I +shall go there to die. That is all I have to look forward to now." + +"Oh, don't!" Sylvia said, with quick feeling. "Don't, please! You +shouldn't feel like that." + +Mrs. Merston's face was twisted in a painful smile. She looked +into the girl's face with a kind of cynical pity. "You will come +to it," she said. "Life isn't what it was to you even now. You're +beginning to feel the thorns under the rose-leaves. Of course you +may be lucky. You may bear children, and that will be your +salvation. But if you don't--if you don't----" + +"Please!" whispered Sylvia. "Please don't say that to me!" + +The words were almost inarticulate. She got up as she uttered them +and moved away. Mrs. Merston looked after her, and very strangely +her face altered. Something of that mother-love in her which had +so long been cheated showed in her lustreless eyes. + +"Oh, poor child!" she said. "I am sorry." + +It was briefly spoken. She was ever brief in her rare moments of +emotion. But there was a throb of feeling in the words that +reached Sylvia. She turned impulsively back again. + +"Thank you," she said, and there were tears in her eyes as she +spoke. "I think perhaps--" her utterance came with an effort "--my +life is--in its way--almost as difficult as yours. That ought to +make us comrades, oughtn't it? If ever there is anything I can do +to help you, please tell me!" + +"Let it be a mutual understanding!" said Mrs. Merston, and to +Sylvia's surprise she took and pressed her hand for a moment. + +There was more comfort in that simple pressure than Sylvia could +have believed possible. She returned it with that quick warmth of +hers which never failed to respond to kindness, and in that second +the seed of friendship was sown upon fruitful ground. + +The moment passed, sped by Mrs. Merston who seemed half-afraid of +her own action. + +"You must get your husband to take you to Brennerstadt for the +races," she said. "It would make a change for you. It's a shame +for a girl of your age to be buried in the wilderness." + +"I really haven't begun to be dull yet," Sylvia said. + +"No, perhaps not. But you'll get nervy and unhappy. You've been +used to society, and it isn't good for you to go without it +entirely. Look at me!" said Mrs. Merston, with her short laugh. +"And take warning!" + +The two men were sauntering towards them, and they moved to meet +them. Far down in the east an almost unbelievably huge moon hung +like a brazen shield. The mauve of the sunset had faded to pearl. + +"It is rather a beautiful world, isn't it?" Sylvia said a little +wistfully. + +"To the favoured few--yes," said Mrs. Merston. + +Sylvia gave her a quick glance. "I read somewhere--I don't know if +it's true--that we are all given the ingredients of happiness, but +the mixing is left to ourselves. Perhaps you and I haven't found +the right mixture yet." + +"Ah!" said Mrs. Merston. "Perhaps not." + +"I'm going to have another try," said Sylvia, with sudden energy. + +"I wish you luck," said Mrs. Merston somewhat grimly. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +MIRAGE + +From the day of her visit to the Merstons Sylvia took up her old +life again, and pursued all her old vocations with a vigour that +seemed even more enthusiastic than of yore. Her ministrations to +Guy had ceased to be of an arduous character, or indeed to occupy +much of her time. It was mainly Burke who filled Kieff's place and +looked after Guy generally with a quiet efficiency that never +encouraged any indulgence. They seemed to be good friends, yet +Sylvia often wondered with a dull ache at the heart if this were +any more than seeming. There was so slight a show of intimacy +between them, so little of that camaraderie generally so noticeable +between dwellers in the wilderness. Sometimes she fancied she +caught a mocking light in Guy's eyes when they looked at Burke. He +was always perfectly docile under his management, but was he always +genuine? She could not tell. His recovery amazed her. He seemed +to possess an almost boundless store of vitality. He cast his +weakness from him with careless jesting, laughing down all her +fears. She knew well that he was not so strong as he would have +had her believe, that he fought down his demon of suffering in +solitude, that often he paid heavily for deeds of recklessness. +But the fact remained that he had come back from the gates of +death, and each day she marvelled anew. + +She and Burke seldom spoke of him when together. That intangible +reserve that had grown up between them seemed to make it +impossible. She had no longer the faintest idea as to Burke's +opinion of the returned prodigal, whether he still entertained his +previous conviction that Guy was beyond help, or whether he had +begun at length to have any confidence for the future. In a vague +fashion his reticence hurt her, but she could not bring herself to +attempt to break through it. He was a man perpetually watching for +something, and it made her uneasy and doubtful, though for what he +watched she had no notion. For it was upon herself rather than +upon Guy that his attention seemed to be concentrated. His +attitude puzzled her. She felt curiously like a prisoner, though +to neither word, nor look, nor deed could she ascribe the feeling. +She was even at times disposed to put it down to the effect of the +weather upon her physically. It did undoubtedly try her very +severely. Though the exercise that she compelled herself to take +had restored to her the power to sleep, she always felt as weary +when she arose as when she lay down. The heat and the drought +combined to wear her out. Valiantly though she struggled to rally +her flagging energies, the effort became increasingly difficult. +She lived in the depths of a great depression, against which, +strive as she might, she ever strove in vain. She was furious with +herself for her failure, but it pursued her relentlessly. She +found the Kaffir servants more than usually idle and difficult to +deal with, and this added yet further to the burden that weighed +her down. + +One day, returning from a ride to find Fair Rosamond swabbing the +floor of the _stoep_ with her bath-sponge, she lost her temper +completely and wholly unexpectedly, and cut the girl across her +naked shoulders with her riding-switch. It was done in a moment--a +single, desperate moment of unbearable exasperation. Rosamond +screamed and fled, upsetting her pail inadvertently over her +mistress's feet as she went. And Sylvia, with a burning sense of +shame for her violence, retreated as precipitately to her own room. + +She entered by the window, and, not even noticing that the door +into the sitting-room stood ajar, flung herself down by the table +in a convulsion of tears. She hated herself for her action, she +hated Rosamond for having been the cause of it. She hated the +blazing sky and the parched earth, the barren _veldt_, the +imprisoning _kopjes_, the hopeless sense of oppression, of being +always somehow in the wrong. A wild longing to escape was upon +her, to go anywhere--anywhere, so long as she could get right away +from that intolerable weight of misgiving, doubt, dissatisfaction, +foreboding, that hung like a galling chain upon her. + +She was getting like Mrs. Merston, she told herself passionately. +Already her youth had gone, and all that made life worth living was +going with it. She had made her desperate bid for happiness, and +she had lost. And Burke--Burke was only watching for her hour of +weakness to make himself even more completely her master than he +was already. Had he not only that morning--only that +morning--gruffly ordered her back from a distant cattle-run that +she had desired to inspect? Was he not always asserting his +authority in some fashion over her, crumbling away her resistance +piece by piece till at last he could stride in all-conquering and +take possession? He was always so strong, so horribly strong, so +sure of himself. And though it had pleased him to be generous in +his dealings with her, she had seen far less of that generosity +since Guy's recovery. They were partners no longer, she told +herself bitterly. That farce was ended. Perhaps it was her own +fault. Everything seemed to be her fault nowadays. She had not +played her cards well during Guy's illness. Somehow she had not +felt a free agent. It was Kieff who had played the cards, had +involved her in such difficulties as she had never before +encountered, and then had left her perforce to extricate herself +alone; to extricate herself--or to pay the price. She seemed to +have been struggling against overwhelming odds ever since. She had +fought with all her strength to win back to the old freedom, but +she had failed. And in that dark hour she told herself that +freedom was not for her. She was destined to be a slave for the +rest of her life. + +The wild paroxysm of crying could not last. Already she was +beginning to be ashamed of her weakness. And ere long she would +have to face Burke. The thought of that steady, probing look made +her shrink in every fibre. Was there anything that those shrewd +eyes did not see? + +What was that? She started at a sound. Surely he had not returned +so soon! + +For a second there was something very like panic at her heart. +Then, bracing herself, she lifted her head, and saw Guy. + +He had entered by the sitting-room door and in his slippers she had +not heard him till he was close to her. He was already bending +over her when she realized his presence. + +She put up a quick hand. "Oh, Guy!" she said with a gasp. + +He caught and held it in swift response. "My own girl!" he said. +"I heard you crying. I was in my room dressing. What's it all +about?" + +She could not tell him, the anguish was still too near. She bowed +her head and sat in throbbing silence. + +"Look here!" said Guy. "Don't!" He stooped lower over her, his +dark face twitching. "Don't!" he said again. "Life isn't worth +it. Life's too short. Be happy, dear! Be happy!" + +He spoke a few words softly against her hair. There was entreaty +in their utterance. It was as if he pleaded for his own self. + +She made a little movement as if something had pierced her, and in +a moment she found her voice. + +"Life is so--difficult," she said, with a sob. + +"You take it too hard," he answered rapidly. "You think too much +of--little things. It isn't the way to be happy. What you ought +to do is to grab the big things while you can, and chuck the little +ones into the gutter. Life's nothing but a farce. It isn't meant +to be taken--really seriously. It isn't long enough for sacrifice. +I tell you, it isn't long enough!" + +There was something passionate in the reiterated declaration. The +clasp of his hand was feverish. That strange vitality of his that +had made him defy the death he had courted seemed to vibrate within +him like a stretched wire. His attitude was tense with it. And a +curious thrill went through her, as though there were electricity +in his touch. + +She could not argue the matter with him though every instinct told +her he was wrong. She was too overwrought to see things with an +impartial eye. She felt too tired greatly to care. + +"I feel," she told him drearily, "as if I want to get away from +everything and everybody." + +"Oh no, you don't!" he said. "All you want is to get away from +Burke. That's your trouble--and always will be under present +conditions. Do you think I haven't looked on long enough? Why +don't you go away?" + +"Go away!" She looked up at him again, startled. + +Guy's sunken eyes were shining with a fierce intensity. They urged +her more poignantly than words. "Don't you see what's going to +happen--if you don't?" he said. + +That moved her. She sprang up with a sound that was almost a cry, +and stood facing him, her hand hard pressed against her heart. + +"Of course I know he's a wonderful chap and all that," Guy went on. +"But you haven't cheated yourself yet into believing that you care +for him, have you? He isn't the sort to attract any woman at first +sight, and I'll wager he has never made love to you. He's far too +busy with his cattle and his crops. What on earth did you marry +him for? Can't you see that he makes a slave of everyone who comes +near him?" + +But she lifted her head proudly at that. "He has never made a +slave of me," she said. + +"He will," Guy rejoined relentlessly. "He'll have you under his +heel before many weeks. You know it in your heart. Why did you +marry him, Sylvia? Tell me why you married him!" + +The insistence of the question compelled an answer. Yet she +paused, for it was a question she had never asked herself. Why had +she married Burke indeed? Had it been out of sheer expediency? Or +had there been some deeper and more subtle reason? She knew full +well that there was probably not another man in Africa to whom she +would have thus entrusted herself, however urgent the +circumstances. How was it then that she had accepted Burke? + +And then, looking into Guy's tense face, the answer came to her, +and she had uttered it almost before she knew. "I married him +because he was so like you." + +The moment she had uttered the words she would have recalled them, +for Guy made an abrupt movement and turned so white that she +thought he would faint. His eyes went beyond her with a strained, +glassy look, and for seconds he stood so, as one gone suddenly +blind. + +Then with a jerk he pulled himself together, and gave her an odd +smile that somehow cut her to the heart. + +"That was a straight hit anyway," he said. "And are you going to +stick to him for the same reason?" + +She turned her face away with the feeling of one who dreads to look +upon some grievous hurt. "No," she said, in a low voice. "Only +because--I am his wife." + +Guy made a short, contemptuous sound. "And for that you're going +to let him ride rough-shod over you--give him the right to control +your every movement? Oh, forgive me, but you good people hold such +ghastly ideas of right and wrong. And what on earth do you gain by +it all? You sacrifice everything to the future, and the future is +all mirage--all mirage. You'll never get there, never as long as +you live." + +Again that quick note of passion was in his voice, and she tingled +at the sound, for though she knew so well that he was wrong +something that was quick and passionate within her made instinctive +response. She understood him. Had she not always understood him? + +She did not answer him. She had given him her answer. And he, +realizing this turned aside to open the window. Yet, for a moment +he stood looking back at her, and all her life she was to remember +the love and the longing of his eyes. It was as if for that second +a veil had been rent aside, and he had shown her his naked soul. + +She wondered afterwards if he had really meant her to see. For +immediately, as he went out, he broke into a careless whistle, and +then, an instant later, she heard him fling a greeting to someone +out in the blinding sunshine. + +An answer came back from much nearer than she had anticipated. It +was in the guttural tones of Hans Schafen the overseer, and with a +jerk she remembered that the man always sat on the corner of the +_stoep_ to await Burke if he arrived before their return from the +lands. It was his custom to wear rubber soles to his boots, and no +one ever heard him come or go. For some reason this fact had +always prejudiced her against Hans Schafen. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +EVERYBODY'S FRIEND + +When Burke came in to lunch half an hour later, he found Sylvia +alone in the sitting-room, laying the cloth. + +She glanced up somewhat nervously at his entrance. "I've +frightened Rosamond away," she said. + +"Little cuss! Good thing too!" he said. She proceeded rapidly +with her occupation. + +"I believe there's a sand-storm coming," she said, after a moment. + +"Yes, confound it!"' said Burke. + +He went to the window and stood gazing out with drawn brows. + +With an effort she broke the silence. "What has Schafen to report? +Is all well?" + +He wheeled round abruptly and stood looking at her. For a few +seconds he said nothing whatever, then as with a startled sense of +uncertainty she turned towards him he spoke. "Schafen? Yes, he +reported--several things. The dam over by Ritter Spruit is dried +up for one thing. The animals will all have to driven down here. +Then there have been several bad _veldt_-fires over to the north. +It isn't only sand that's coming along. It's cinders too. We've +got to take steps to protect the fodder, or we're done. It's just +the way of this country. A single night may bring ruin." + +He spoke with such unwonted bitterness that Sylvia was aroused out +of her own depression. She had never known him take so pessimistic +a view before. With an impulsiveness that was warm and very +womanly, she left her task and went to him. + +"Oh, Burke!" she said. "But the worst doesn't happen, does it? +Anyway not often!" + +He made an odd sound that was like a laugh choked at birth. "Not +often," he agreed. And then abruptly, straightening himself, +"Suppose it did,--what then?" + +"What then?" She looked at him for a moment, still feeling +curiously unsure of her ground. "Well, we'd weather it somehow, +partner," she said, and held out her hand to him with a little +quivering smile. + +He made no movement to take her hand. Perhaps he had already heard +what a few seconds later reached her own ears,--the sound of Guy's +feet upon the _stoep_ outside the window. But during those seconds +his eyes dwelt upon her, holding her own with a fixed intentness +that somehow made her feel cold. It was an unspeakable relief to +her when he turned them from her, as it were setting her free. + +Guy came in with something of his old free swing, and closed the +window behind him. "Better to stew than to eat sand," he remarked. +"I've just heard from one of the Kaffirs that Piet Vreiboom's land +is on fire." + +"What?" said Burke sharply. + +"It's all right at present," said Guy. "We can bear it with +equanimity. The wind is the other way." + +"The wind may change," said Burke. + +"That wouldn't be like your luck," remarked Guy, as he seated +himself. + +They partook of the meal almost in silence. To Sylvia the very air +was laden with foreboding. Everything they ate was finely powered +with sand, but she alone was apparently aware of the fact. The +heat inside the bungalow was intense. Outside a fierce wind had +begun to blow, and the sky was dark. + +At the end of a very few minutes Burke arose. Guy sprang instantly +to his feet. + +"Are you off? I'm coming!" + +"No--no," Burke said shortly. "Stay where you are!" + +"I tell you I'm coming," said Guy, pushing aside his chair. + +Burke, already ac the door, paused and looked at him. "Better +not," he said. "You're not up to it--and this infernal sand----" + +"Damn the sand!" said Guy, with vehemence. "I'm coming!" + +He reached Burke with the words. His hand sought the door. Burke +swallowed the rest of his remonstrance. + +"Please yourself!" he said, with a shadowy smile; and then for a +moment his eyes went to Sylvia. "You will stay in this afternoon," +he said. + +It was a definite command, and she had no thought of defying it. +But the tone in which it was uttered hurt her. + +"I suppose I shall do as I am told," she said, in a low voice. + +He let Guy go and returned to her. He bent swiftly down over her +and dropped a small key into her lap. "I leave you in charge of +all that I possess," he said. "Good-bye!" + +She looked up at him quickly. "Burke!" she stammered. Burke! +There is no--danger?" + +"Probably not of the sort you mean," he answered. And then +suddenly his arms were round her. He held her close and hard. For +a second she felt the strong beat of his heart, and then forgot it +in an overwhelming rush of emotion that so possessed her as almost +to deprive her of her senses. For he kissed her--he kissed +her--and his kiss was as the branding of a hot iron. It seemed to +burn her to the soul. + +The next moment she was free; the door closed behind him, and she +was alone. She sank down over the table, quivering all over. Her +pulses were racing, her nerves in a wild tumult. She believed that +the memory of that scorching kiss would tingle upon her lips for +ever. It was as if an electric current had suddenly entered her +inner-most being and now ran riot in every vein. And so wild was +the tumult within her that she knew not whether dread or dismay or +a frantic, surging, leaping thing that seemed to cry aloud for +liberty were first in that mad race. She clasped her hands very +tightly over her face, struggling to master those inner forces that +fought within her. Never in her life had so fierce a conflict torn +her. Soul and body, she seemed to be striving with an adversary +who pierced her at every turn. He had kissed her thus; and in that +unutterable moment he had opened her eyes, confronting her with an +amazing truth from which she could not turn aside. Passion and a +fierce and terrible jealousy had mingled in his kiss, anger also, +and a menacing resentment that seemed to encompass her like a fiery +ring, hedging her round. + +But not love! There had been no love in his kiss. It had been an +outrage of love, and it had wounded her to the heart. It had made +her want to hide--to hide--till the first poignancy of the pain +should be past. And yet--and yet--in all her anguish she knew that +the way which Guy had so recklessly suggested was no way of escape +for her. To flee from him was to court disaster--such disaster as +would for ever wreck her chance of happiness. It could but confirm +the evil doubt he harboured and might lead to such a catastrophe as +she would not even contemplate. + +But yet some way of escape there must be, and desperately she +sought it, striving in defence of that nameless thing that had +sprung to such wild life within her under the burning pressure of +his lips, that strange and untamed force that she could neither +bind nor subdue, but which to suffer him to behold meant sacrilege +to her shrinking soul--such sacrilege as she believed she could +never face and live. + +Gradually the turmoil subsided, but it left her weak, inert, +impotent. The impulse to pray came to her, but the prayer that +went up from her trembling heart was voiceless and wordless. She +had no means of expression in which to cloak her utter need. Only +the stark helplessness of her whole being cried dumbly for +deliverance. + +A long time passed. The bungalow was silent and empty. She was +quite alone. She could hear the rising rush of the wind across the +_veldt_, and it sounded to her like a thing hunted and fleeing. +The sand of the desert whipped against the windows, and the gloom +increased. She was not naturally nervous, but a sense of fear +oppressed her. She had that fateful feeling, which sometimes comes +even in the sunshine, of something about to happen, of turning a +sharp corner in the road of life that must change the whole outlook +and trend of existence. She was afraid to look forward. For the +first time life had become terrible to her. + +She roused herself to action at last and got up from the table. +Something fell on the ground as she did so. It was the key that +Burke had given into her care. She knew it for the key of his +strong-box in which he kept his money and papers. His journeys to +Brennerstadt were never frequent, and she knew that he usually kept +a considerable sum by him. The box was kept on the floor of the +cupboard in the wall of the room which Guy now occupied. It was +very heavy, so heavy that Burke himself never lifted it, seldom +moved it from its place, but opened and closed it as it stood. She +wondered as she groped for the key why he had given it to her. +That action of his pointed to but one conclusion. He expected to +be going into danger. He would not have parted with it otherwise. +Of that she was certain. He and Guy were both going into danger +then, and she was left in utter solitude to endure her suspense as +best she could. + +She searched in vain for the key. It was small and made to fit a +patent lock. The darkness of the room baffled her search, and at +last she abandoned it and went to the pantry for a lamp. The +Kaffirs had gone to their huts. She found the lamp empty and +untrimmed in a corner, with two others in the same condition. The +oil was kept in an outbuilding some distance from the bungalow, and +there was none in hand. She diverted her search to candles, but +these also were hard to find. She spent several minutes there in +the darkness with the wind howling weirdly around like a lost thing +seeking shelter, and the sand beating against the little window +with a persistent rattle that worried her nerves with a strange +bewilderment. + +Eventually she found an empty candlestick, and after prolonged +search an end of candle. Sand was everywhere. It ground under her +feet, and made gritty everything she touched. Was it fancy that +brought to her the smell of burning, recalling Burke's words? She +found herself shivering violently as she went to her own room for +matches. + +It was while she was here that there came to her above the roar of +the wind a sudden sound that made her start and listen. Someone +was knocking violently, almost battering, at the door that led into +the passage. + +Her heart gave a wild leap within her. Somehow--she knew not +wherefore--her thoughts went to Kieff. She had a curiously strong +feeling that he was, if not actually at the door, not far away. +Then, even while she stood with caught breath listening, the door +burst open and a blast of wind and sand came hurling into the +house. It banged shut again instantly, and there followed a +tramping of feet as if a herd of cattle had entered. Then there +came a voice. + +"Damnation!" it said, with vigour. "Damnation! It's a hell of a +country, and myself was the benighted fool ever to come near it at +all. Whist to it now! Anyone would think the devil himself was +trying for admittance." + +Very strangely that voice reassured Sylvia though she had never +heard it before in her life. It did more; it sent such a rush of +relief through her that she nearly laughed aloud. + +She groped her way out into the passage, feeling as if a great +weight had been lifted from her. "Come in, whoever you are!" she +said. "It is rather infernal certainly. I'll light a candle in a +moment--as soon as I can find some matches." + +She saw a dim, broad figure standing in front of her and heard a +long, soft whistle of dismay. + +"I beg your pardon, madam," said the voice that had spoken such +hearty invective a few seconds before. "Sure, I had no idea I was +overheard. And I hope that I'll not have prejudiced you at all +with the violence of me language. But it's in the air of the +country, so to speak. And we all come to it in time. If it's a +match that you're wanting, I've got one in my pocket this minute +which I'll hand over with all the good will in the world if you'll +do me the favour to wait." + +Sylvia waited. She knew the sort of face that went with that +voice, and it did not surprise her when the red Irish visage and +sandy brows beamed upon her above the flickering candle. The laugh +she had repressed a moment before rose to her lips. There was +something so comic in this man's appearance just when she had been +strung up for tragedy. + +He looked at her with the eyes of a child, smiling good-humouredly +at her mirth. "Sure, you're putting the joke on me," he said. +"They all do it. Where can I have strayed to? Is this a fairy +palace suddenly sprung up in the desert, and you the Queen of No +Man's Land come down from your mountain-top to give me shelter?" + +She shook her head, still laughing, "No, I've never been to the +mountain-top. I'm only a farmer's wife." + +"A farmer's wife!" He regarded her with quizzical curiosity for a +space. "Is it Burke's bride that you are?" he questioned. "And is +it Burke Ranger's farm that I've blundered into after all?" + +"I am Burke Ranger's wife," she told him. "But I left off being a +bride a long time ago. We are all too busy out here to keep up +sentimental nonsense of that sort." + +"And isn't it the cynic that ye are entirely?" rejoined the +visitor, broadly grinning. "Sure, it's time I introduced myself to +the lady of the house. I'm Donovan Kelly, late of His Majesty's +Imperial Yeomanry, and at present engaged in the peaceful avocation +of mining for diamonds under the rubbish-heaps of Brennerstadt." + +Sylvia held out her hand. There could be no standing upon ceremony +with this man. She hailed him instinctively as a friend. There +are some men in the world whom no woman can regard in any other +light. + +"I am very pleased to meet you," she said, with simplicity. "And I +know Burke will be glad too that you have managed to make your way +over here. You haven't chosen a very nice day for your visit. +What a ghastly ride you must have had! What about your horse?" + +"Sure, I'd given myself up for lost entirely," laughed Kelly. "And +I said to St. Peter--that's my horse and the best animal bred out +of Ireland--'Pete,' I said to him, 'it's a hell of a country and no +place for ye at all. But if ye put your back into it, Pete, and +get us out of this infernal sandpit, I'll give ye such a draught of +ale as'll make ye dance on your head with delight.' He's got a +taste for the liquor, has Pete. I've put him in a cowshed I found +round the corner, and, faith, he fair laughed to be out of the +blast. He's a very human creature, Mrs. Ranger, with the soul of a +Christian, only a bit saintlier." + +"I shall have to make his acquaintance," said Sylvia. "Now come in +and have some refreshment! I am sure you must need it." + +"And that's a true word," said Kelly, following her into the +sitting-room. "My throat feels as if it were lined with +sand-paper." + +She rapidly cleared a place for him at the table, and ministered to +his wants. His presence was so large and comforting that her own +doubts and fears had sunk into the background. For a time, +listening to his artless talk, she was scarcely aware of them, and +she was thankful for the diversion. It had been a terrible +afternoon. + +He began to make enquiries regarding Burke's absence at length, and +then she told him about the _veldt_-fires, and the menace to the +land. His distress returned somewhat as she did so, and he was +quick to perceive the anxiety she sought to hide. + +"Now don't you worry--don't you worry!" he said. "Burke wasn't +made to go under. He's one in a million. He's the sort that'll +win to the very top of the world. And why? Because he's sound." + +"Ah!" Sylvia said. Somehow that phrase at such a moment sent an +odd little pang through her. Would Burke indeed win to the top of +the world, she wondered? It seemed so remote to her now--that +palace of dreams which they had planned to share together. Did he +ever think of it now? She wondered--she wondered! + +"Don't you worry!" Kelly said again. "There's nothing in life more +futile. Is young Guy still here, by the way? Has he gone out +scotching _veldt_-fires too?" + +She started and coloured. How much did he know about Guy? How +much would it be wise to impart? + +Perhaps he saw her embarrassment, for he hastened to enlighten her. +"I know all about young Guy. Nobody's enemy but his own. I helped +Burke dig him out of Hoffstein's several weeks back, and a tough +job it was. How has he behaved himself lately? Been on the bust +at all?" + +Sylvia hesitated. She knew this man for a friend, and she trusted +him without knowing why; but she could not speak with freedom to +anyone of Guy and his sins. + +But again the Irishman saw and closed the breach. His shrewd eyes +smiled kindly comprehension. "Ah, but he's a difficult youngster," +he said. "Maybe he'll mend his ways as he gets older. We do +sometimes, Mrs. Ranger. Anyhow, with all his faults he's got the +heart of a gentleman. I've known him do things--decent +things--that only a gentleman would have thought of doing. I've +punched his head for him before now, but I've always liked young +Guy. It's the same with Burke. You can't help liking the fellow." + +"I don't think Burke likes him," Sylvia said almost involuntarily. + +"Then, begging your pardon, you're wrong," said Kelly. "Burke +loves him like a brother. I know that all right. No, he'll never +say so. He's not the sort. But it's the truth, all the same. +He's about the biggest disappointment in Burke's life. He'd never +have left him to sink if he hadn't been afraid the boy would shoot +himself if he did anything else." + +"Ah!" Sylvia said again, with a sharp catch in her breath. "That +was what he was afraid of." + +"Sure, that was it," said Kelly cheerfully. "You'll generally find +that that good man of yours has a pretty decent reason for +everything he does. It isn't often he loses his head--or his +temper. He's a fine chap to be friendly with, but a divil to +cross." + +"Yes. I've heard that before," Sylvia said, with a valiant little +smile. "I should prefer to be friendly with him myself." + +"Ah, sure and you're right," said Kelly. "But is it yourself that +could be anything else? Why, he worships the very ground under +your feet. I saw that clear as daylight that time at Brennerstadt." + +She felt her heart quicken a little. "How--clever of you!" she +said. + +He nodded with beaming appreciation of the compliment. "You'll +find my conclusions are generally pretty near the mark," he said. +"It isn't difficult to know what's in the minds of the people +you're fond of. Now is it?" + +She stifled a sigh. "I don't know. I'm not very good at +thought-reading myself." + +He chuckled like a merry child. "Ah, then you come to me, Mrs. +Ranger!" he said. "I'll be proud to help ye any time." + +"I expect you help most people," she said. "You are everybody's +friend." + +"I do my best," said Donovan Kelly modestly. "And, faith, a very +pleasant occupation it is." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE HERO + +The wind went down somewhat at sunset and Sylvia realized with +relief that the worst was over. She sat listening for the return +of Burke and Guy while her companion chatted cheerfully of a +thousand things which might have interested her at any other time +but to which now she gave but fitful attention. + +He was in the midst of telling her about the draw for the great +diamond at Brennerstadt and how the tickets had been reduced from +monkeys to ponies because the monkeys were too shy, when there came +the sound for which she waited--a hand upon the window-catch and +the swirl of sand blown in by the draught as it opened. + +She was up in a moment, guarding the candle and looking out over it +with eager, half-dazzled eyes. For an instant her look met Burke's +as he stood in the aperture, then swiftly travelled to the man with +him. Guy, with a ghastly face that tried to smile, was hanging +upon him for support. + +Burke shut the window with decision and stood staring at Sylvia's +companion. + +Kelly at once proceeded with volubility to explain his presence. +"Ah, yes, it's meself in the flesh, Burke, and very pleased to see +ye. I've taken a holiday to come and do ye a good turn. And Mrs. +Ranger has been entertaining me like a prince in your absence. So +you've got young Guy with you! What's the matter with the boy?" + +"I'm all right," said Guy, and quitted his hold upon Burke as if to +demonstrate the fact. + +But Burke took him by the arm and led him to a chair. "You sit +down!" he commanded briefly. "Hullo, Donovan! Glad to see you! +Have you had a drink?" + +"Sure, I've had all that mortal man could desire and more to it," +declared Kelly. + +"Good," said Burke, and turned to Sylvia. "Get out the brandy, +will you?" + +She hastened to do his bidding. There was a blueness about Guy's +lips that frightened her, and she saw that his hands were clenched. + +Yet, as Burke bent over him a few moments later, he laughed with +something of challenge in, his eyes. "Ripping sport, old chap!" he +said, and drank with a feverish eagerness. + +Burke's hand was on his shoulder. She could not read his +expression, but she was aware of something unusual between them, +something that was wholly outside her experience. Then he spoke, +his voice very quiet and steady. + +"Go slow, man! You've had a bit of a knockout." + +Guy looked across at her, and there was triumph in his look. "It's +been--sport," he said again. "Ripping sport!" It was so boyishly +uttered, and his whole attitude was so reminiscent of the old days, +that she felt herself thrill in answer. She moved quickly to him. + +"What has been happening? Tell me!" she said. + +He laughed again. "My dear girl, we've been fighting the devil in +his own element, and we've beat him off the field." He sprang to +his feet. "Here, give me another drink, or I shall die! My throat +is a bed of live cinders." + +Burke intervened. "No--no! Go slow, I tell you! Go slow! Get +some tea, Sylvia! Where are those Kaffirs?" + +"They haven't been near all day," Sylvia said. "I frightened +Rosamond away this morning, and the others must have been afraid of +the storm." + +"I'll rout 'em out," said Kelly. + +"No. You stay here! I'll go." Burke turned to the door, but +paused as he opened it and looked back. "Sylvia!" he said. + +She went to him. He put his hand through her arm and drew her into +the passage. "Don't let Guy have any more to drink!" he said. +"Mind, I leave him to you." + +He spoke with urgency; she looked at him in surprise. + +"Yes, I mean it," he said. "You must prevent him somehow. I +can't--nor Kelly either. You probably can--for a time anyhow." + +"I'll do my best," she said. + +His hand closed upon her. "If you fail, he'll go under, I know the +signs. It's up to you to stop him. Go back and see to it!" + +He almost pushed her from him with the words, and it came to her +that for some reason Guy's welfare was uppermost with him just +then. He had never betrayed any anxiety on his account before, and +she wondered greatly at his attitude. But it was no time for +questioning. Mutely she obeyed him and went back. + +She found Guy in the act of filling a glass for Kelly. His own +stood empty at his elbow. She went forward quickly, and laid her +hand on his shoulder. "Guy, please!" she said, + +He looked at her, the bottle in his hand. In his eyes she saw +again that dreadful leaping flame which made her think of some +starved and desperate animal. "What is it?" he said. + +An overwhelming sense of her own futility came upon her. She felt +almost like a child standing there, attempting that of which Burke +had declared himself to be incapable. + +"What is it?" he said again. + +She braced herself for conflict. "Please," she said gently. "I +want you to wait and have some tea. It won't take long to get." +Then, as the fever of his eyes seemed to burn her: "Please, Guy! +Please!" + +Kelly put aside his own drink untouched. "There's no refusing such +a sweet appeal as that," he declared gallantly. "Guy, I move a +postponement. Tea first!" + +But Guy was as one who heard not. He was staring at Sylvia, and +the wild fire in his eyes was leaping higher, ever higher. In that +moment he saw her, and her alone. It was as if they two had +suddenly met in a place that none other might enter. His words of +the morning rushed back upon her--his passionate declaration that +life was not long enough for sacrifice--that the future to which +she looked was but a mirage which she would never reach. + +It all flashed through her brain in a few short seconds, vivid, +dazzling, overwhelming, and the memory of Kieff went with it--Kieff +and his cold, sinister assertion that she held Guy's destiny +between her hands. + +Then, very softly, Guy spoke. "To please--you?" he said. + +She answered him, but it was scarcely of her own volition. She was +as one driven--"Yes--yes!" + +He looked at her closely as if to make sure of her meaning. Then, +with a quick, reckless movement, he turned and set down the bottle +on the table. + +"That settles that," he said boyishly. "Go ahead, Kelly! Drink! +Don't mind me! I am--brandy-proof." + +And Sylvia, throbbing from head to foot, knew she had conquered, +knew she had saved him for a time at least from the threatening +evil. But there was that within her which shrank from the thought +of the victory. She had acted almost under compulsion, yet she +felt that she had used a weapon which would ultimately pierce them +both. + +She scarcely knew what passed during the interval that followed +before Burke's return. As in a dream she heard Kelly still talking +about the Brennerstadt diamond, and Guy was asking him questions +with a keenness of interest that seemed strange to her. She +herself was waiting and watching for Burke, dreading his coming, +yet in a fashion eager for it. For very curiously she had a +feeling that she needed him. For the first time she wanted to lean +upon his strength. + +But when at length he came, her dread of him was uppermost and she +felt she could not meet his look. It was with relief that she saw +Guy was still his first thought. He had fetched Joe from the +Kaffir huts, and the lamps were filled and lighted. He was +carrying one as he entered, and the light flung upwards on his face +showed it to her as the face of a strong man. + +He set the lamp on the table and went straight to Guy. "Look +here!" he said. "I'm going to put you to bed." + +Guy, with his arms on the table, looked up at him and laughed. +"Oh, rats! I'm all right. Can't you see I'm all right? Well, I +must have some tea first anyway. I've been promised tea." + +"I'll bring you your tea in bed," Burke said. + +But Guy protested. "No, really, old chap. I must sit up a bit +longer. I'll be very good. I want to hear all Kelly's news. I +believe I shall have to go back to Brennerstadt with him to paint +the town red. I'd like to have a shot at that diamond. You never +know your luck when the devil's on your side." + +"I know yours," said Burke drily. "And it's about as rotten as it +can be. You've put too great a strain on it all your life." + +Guy laughed again. He was in the wildest spirits. But suddenly in +the midst of his mirth he began to cough with a dry, harsh sound +like the rending of wood. He pushed his chair back from the table, +and bent himself double, seeming to grope upon the floor. It was +the most terrible paroxysm that Sylvia had ever witnessed, and she +thought it would never end. + +Several times he tried to straighten himself, but each effort +seemed to renew the anguish that tore him, and in the end he +subsided limply against Burke who supported him till at last the +convulsive choking ceased. + +He was completely exhausted by that time and offered no +remonstrance when Burke and Kelly between them bore him to the +former's room and laid him on the bed he had occupied for so long. +Burke administered brandy again; there was no help for it. And +then at Guy's whispered request he left him for a space to recover. + +He drew Sylvia out of the room, and Kelly followed. "I'll go back +to him later, and help him undress," he said. "But he will +probably get on better alone for the present." + +"What has been happening?" Sylvia asked him. "Tell me what has +been happening!" + +A fevered desire to know everything was upon her. She felt she +must know. + +Burke looked at her as if something in her eagerness struck him as +unusual. But he made no comment upon it. He merely with his +customary brevity proceeded to enlighten her. + +"We went to Vreiboom's, and had a pretty hot time. Kieff was there +too, by the way. The fire got a strong hold, and if the wind, had +held, we should probably have been driven out of it, and our own +land would have gone too. As it was," he paused momentarily, +"well, we have Guy to thank that it didn't." + +"Guy!" said Sylvia quickly. + +"Yes. He worked like a nigger--better. He's been among hot ashes +and that infernal sand for hours. I couldn't get him out. He did +the impossible." A curious tremor sounded in Burke's voice--"The +impossible!" he said again. + +"Sure, I always said there was grit in the boy," said Kelly. +"You'll be making a man of him yet, Burke. You'll have to have a +good try after this." + +Burke was silent. His eyes, bloodshot but keen, were upon Sylvia's +face. + +It was some moments before with an effort she lifted her own to +meet them. "So Guy is a hero!" she said, with a faint uncertain +smile. "I'm glad of that." + +"Let's drink to him," said Kelly, "now he isn't here to see! +Burke, fill up! Mrs. Ranger!" + +"No--no!" Sylvia said. "I am going to get the tea." + +Yet she paused beside Burke, as if compelled. "What else did he +do?" she said. "You haven't told us all." + +"Not quite all," said Burke, and still his eyes searched hers with +a probing intentness. + +"Don't you want to tell me?" she said. + +"Yes, I will tell you," he answered, "if you especially want to +hear. He saved my life." + +"Hooray!" yelled Kelly, in the voice of one holloaing to hounds. + +Sylvia said nothing for a moment. She had turned very pale. When +she spoke it was with an effort. "How?" + +He answered as if speaking to her alone. "One of Vreiboom's +tumble-down old sheds fired while we were trying to clear it. The +place collapsed and I got pinned inside. Piet Vreiboom didn't +trouble himself, or Kieff, either. He wouldn't--naturally. Guy +got me out." + +"Ah!" she said. It was scarcely more than an intake of the breath. +She could not utter another word, for that imprisoned thing within +her seemed to be clawing at her heart, choking her. If Burke had +died--if Burke had died! She turned herself quickly from the +searching of his eyes, lest he should see--and understand. She +could not--dared not--show him her soul just then. The memory of +his kiss--that single, fiery kiss that had opened her own +eyes--held her back. She went from him in silence. If Burke had +died! + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE NET + +It was not often that Sylvia lay awake, but that night her brain +was in a turmoil, and for long she courted sleep in vain. For some +time after she retired, the murmur of Burke's and Kelly's voices in +the adjoining room kept her on the alert, but it was mainly the +thoughts that crowded in upon her that would not let her rest. The +thought of Guy troubled her most, this and the knowledge that Kieff +was in the neighbourhood. She had an almost uncanny dread of this +man. He seemed to stand in the path as a menace, an evil influence +that she could neither avert nor withstand. Burke had barely +mentioned him, yet his words had expressed the thought that had +sprung instantly to her mind. He was an enemy to them all, most of +all to Guy, and she feared him. She had a feeling that she would +sooner or later have to fight him for Guy's soul, and she was sick +with apprehension. For the only weapon at her disposal was that +weapon she dare not wield. + +The long night dragged away. She thought it would never end. When +sleep came to her at last it was only to bring dreadful dreams in +its train. Burke in danger! Burke imprisoned in a burning hut! +Burke at the mercy of Kieff, the merciless! + +She wrenched herself free from these nightmares in the very early +morning while the stars were still in the sky, and went out on to +the _stoep_ to banish the evil illusions from her brain. It was +still and cold and desolate. The guest-hut in which Kelly was +sleeping was closed. There was no sign of life anywhere. A great +longing to go out alone on to the _veldt_ came to her. She felt as +if the great solitude must soothe her spirit. And it would be good +to realize her wish and to see the day break from that favourite +_kopje_ of hers. + +She turned to re-enter her room for an extra wrap, and then started +at sight of another figure standing at the corner of the bungalow. +She thought it was Burke, and her heart gave a wild leap within +her, but the next moment as it began to move noiselessly towards +her, she recognized Guy. + +He came to her on stealthy feet. "Hullo!" he whispered. "Can't +you sleep?" + +She held out her hand to him. "Guy! You ought to be in bed!" + +He made an odd grimace, and bending, carried her hand to his lips. +"I couldn't sleep either. I've been tormented with a fiery thirst +all night long. What has been keeping you awake? Honestly now!" + +He laughed into her eyes, and she was aware that he was trying to +draw her nearer to him. There was about him at, that moment a +subtle allurement that was hard to resist. Old memories thrilled +through her at his touch. For five years she had held herself as +belonging to him. Could the spell be broken in as many months? + +Yet she did resist him, turning her face away. "I can't tell you," +she said, a quiver in her voice. "I had a good deal to think +about. Guy, what is--Kieff doing at Piet Vreiboom's?" + +Guy frowned. "Heaven knows. He is there for his own amusement, +not mine." + +"You didn't know he was there?" she said, looking at him again. + +His frown deepened. "Yes, I knew. Of course I knew. Why?" + +Her heart sank. "I don't like him," she said. "I know he is +clever. I know he saved your life. But I never did like him. +I--am afraid of him." + +"Perhaps you would have rather he hadn't saved my life?" suggested +Guy, with a twist of the lips. "It would have simplified matters +considerably, wouldn't it?" + +"Don't!" she said, and withdrew her hand. "You know how it hurts +me--to hear you talk like that." + +"Why should it hurt you?" said Guy. + +She was silent, and he did not press for an answer. Instead, very +softly he whistled the air of a song that he had been wont to sing +to her half in jest in the old days. + + Love that hath us in the net + Can he pass and we forget? + +She made a little movement of flinching, but the next moment she +turned back to him with absolute steadfastness. "Guy, you and I +are friends, aren't we? We never could be anything else." + +"Oh, couldn't we?" said Guy. + +"No," she maintained resolutely. "Please let us remember that! +Please let us build on that!" + +He looked at her whimsically. "It's a shaky foundation," he said. +"But we'll try. That is, we'll pretend if you like. Who knows? +We may succeed." + +"Don't put it like that!" she said. "Be a man, Guy! I know you +can be. Only yesterday----" + +"Yesterday? What happened yesterday?" said Guy. "I never remember +the yesterdays." + +"I think you do," she said. "You did a big thing yesterday. You +saved Burke." + +"Oh, that!" He uttered a low laugh. "My dear girl, don't canonize +me on that account! I only did it because those swine wanted to see +him burn." + +She shuddered. "That is not true. You know it is not true. It +pleases you to pretend you are callous. But you are not at heart. +Burke knows that as well as I do," + +"Oh, damn Burke!" he said airly. "He's no great oracle. I wonder +what you'd have said if I had come back without him." + +She clenched her hands hard to keep back another shudder. "I can't +talk of that--can't think of it even. You don't know--you will +never realize--all that Burke has done for me." + +"Yes, I do know," Guy said. "But most men would have jumped at the +chance to do the same. You take it all too seriously. It was no +sacrifice to him. You don't owe him anything. He wouldn't have +done it if he hadn't taken a fancy to you. And he didn't do it for +nothing either. He's not such a philanthropist as that." + +Somehow that hurt her intolerably. She looked at him with a quick +flash of anger in her eyes. "Do you want to make me hate you?" she +said. + +He turned instantly and with a most winning gesture. "No, darling. +You couldn't if you tried," he said. + +She went back a step, shaking her head. "I am not so sure," she +said. "Why do you say these horrible things to me?" + +He held out his hand to her. "I'm awfully sorry, dear," he said. +"But it is for your good. I want you to see life as it is, not as +your dear little imagination is pleased to paint it. You are so +dreadfully serious always. Life isn't, you know. It really isn't. +It's nothing but a stupid and rather vulgar farce." + +She gave him her hand, for she could not deny him; but she gave no +sign of yielding with it. "Oh, how I wish you would take it more +seriously!" she said. + +"Do you?" he said. "But what's the good? Who Is it going to +benefit if I do? Not myself. I should hate it. And not you. You +are much too virtuous to have any use for me." + +"Oh, Guy," she said, "Is it never worth while to play the game?" + +His hand tightened upon hers. "Look here!" he said suddenly. +"Suppose I did as you wish--suppose I did pull up--play the game, +as you call it? Suppose I clawed and grabbed for success Like the +rest of the world--and got it. Would you care?" + +"I wasn't talking of success," she said. "That's no answer." He +swung her hand to and fro with vehement impatience. "Suppose you +were free--yes, you've got to suppose it just for a moment--suppose +you were free--and suppose I came to you with both hands full, and +offered you myself and all I possessed--would you send me empty +away? Would you? Would you?" + +He spoke with a fevered insistence. His eyes were alight and +eager. Just so had he spoken in the long ago when she had given +him her girlish heart in full and happy surrender. + +There was no surrender in her attitude now, but yet she could not, +she could not, relentlessly send him from her. He appealed so +strongly, with so intense an earnestness. + +"I can't imagine these things, Guy," she said at last. "I only ask +you--implore you--to do your best to keep straight. It is worth +while, believe me. You will find that it is worth while." + +"It might be--with you to make it so," he said. "Without you----" + +She shook her head. "No--no! For other, better reasons. We have +our duty to do. We must do it. It is the only way to be happy. I +am sure of that." + +"Have you found it so?" he said. "Are you happy?" + +She hesitated. + +He pressed his advantage instantly. "You are not. You know you +are not. Do you think you can deceive me even though you may +deceive yourself? We have known each other too long for that. You +are not happy, Sylvia. You are afraid of life as it is--of life as +it might be. You haven't pluck to take your fate into your own +hands and hew out a way for yourself. You're the slave of +circumstances and you're afraid to break free." He made as if he +would release her, and then suddenly, unexpectedly, caught her hand +up to his face. "All the same, you are mine--you are mine!" he +told her hotly. "You belonged to me from the beginning, and +nothing else counts or ever can count against that. I would have +died to get out of your way. I tried to die. But you brought me +back. And now, say what you like--say what you like--you are mine! +I saw it in your eyes last night, and I defy every law that man +ever made to take you from me. I defy the thing you call duty. +You love me! You have always loved me! Deny it if you can!" + +It was swift, it was almost overwhelming. At another moment it +might have swept her off her feet. But a greater force was at work +within her, and she stood her ground. + +She drew her hand away. "Not like that, Guy," she said. "I love +you. Yes, I love you. But only as a friend. You--you don't +understand me. How should you? I have grown beyond all your +knowledge of me. I was a girl in the old days--when we played at +love together." A sharp sob rose in her throat, but she stifled +it. "All that is over. I am a woman now. My eyes are +open,--and--the romance is all gone." + +He stiffened as if he had been struck, but only for a second. The +next recklessly he laughed. "That is just your way of putting it," +he said. "Love doesn't change--like that. It either goes out, or +it remains--for good. It is you who don't understand yourself. +You may turn your back on the truth, but you can't alter it. Those +who have once been lovers--and lovers such as you and I--can never +again be only friends. That, if you like, is the impossible. +But--" He paused for a moment, with lifted shoulders, then +abruptly turned to go. "Good-bye!" he said. + +"You are going?" she questioned. + +He swung on his heel as if irresolute. "Yes, I am going. I am +going back to my cabin, back to my wallowing in the mire. Why not? +Is there anyone who cares the toss of a halfpenny what I do?" + +"Yes." Breathlessly she answered him; the words seemed to leap +from her of their own accord, and surely it was hardly of her own +volition that she followed and held his arm, detaining him. "Guy! +You know we care. Burke cares. I care. Guy, please, dear, +please! It's such a pity. Oh, it's such a pity! Won't you--can't +you--fight against it? Won't you even--try? I know you could +conquer, if only--if only you would try!" Her eyes were raised to +his. She besought him with all the strength of her being. She +clung to him as if she would hold him back by sheer physical force +from the abyss at his feet. "Oh, Guy, it is worth while!" she +pleaded. "Indeed--indeed it is worth while--whatever it costs. +Guy,--I beseech--I implore you----" + +She broke off, for with a lightning movement he had taken her face +between his hands. "You can make it worth while," he said. "I +will do it--for you." + +He held her passionately close for an instant, but he did not kiss +her. She saw the impulse to do so in his eyes, and she saw him +beat it fiercely back. That was the only comfort that remained to +her when the next moment he sprang away and went so swiftly from +her that he was lost to sight almost before she knew that he was +gone. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE SUMMONS + +When Kelly awoke that morning, it was some time later, and Burke +was entering his hut with a steaming cup of cocoa. The Irishman +stretched his large bulk and laughed up at his friend. + +"Faith, it's the good host that ye are! I've slept like a top, my +son, and never an evil dream. How's the lad this morning? And +how's the land?" + +"The land's all right so far," Burke said. "I'm just off to help +them bring in the animals. The northern dam has failed." + +Kelly leaped from his bed. "I'll come. That's just the job for me +and St. Peter. Don't bring the missis along though! It's too much +for her." + +"I know that," Burke said shortly. "I've told her so. She is to +take it easy for a bit. The climate is affecting her." + +Kelly looked at him with his kindly, curious eyes. "Can't you get +things fixed up here and bring her along to Brennerstadt for the +races and the diamond gamble? It would do you both good to have a +change." + +Burke shook his head, "I doubt if she would care for it. And young +Guy would want to come too. If he did, he would soon get up to +mischief again. He has gone back to his hut this morning, cleared +out early. I hope he is to be trusted to behave himself." + +"Oh, leave the boy alone!" said Kelly. "He's got some decent +feelings of his own, and it doesn't do to mother him too much. +Give him his head for a bit! He's far less likely to bolt." + +Burke shrugged his shoulders. "I can't hold him if he means to go, +I quite admit. But I haven't much faith in his keeping on the +straight, and that's a fact. I don't like his going back to the +hut, and I'd have prevented it if I'd known. But I slept in the +sitting-room last night, and I was dead beat. He cleared out +early." + +"Didn't anyone see him go?" queried Kelly keenly. + +"Yes. My wife." Again Burke's tone was curt, repressive. "She +couldn't stop him." + +"She made him hold hard with the brandy-bottle last night," said +Kelly. "I admired her for it. She's got a way with her, Burke. +Sure, the devil himself couldn't have resisted her then." + +Burke's faint smile showed for a moment; he said nothing. + +"How you must worship her!" went on Kelly, with amiable effusion. +"Some fellows have all the luck. Sure, you're never going to let +that sweet angel languish here like that poor little Mrs. Merston! +You wouldn't now! Come, you wouldn't!" + +But Burke passed the matter by. He had pressing affairs on hand, +and obviously it was not his intention to discuss his conduct +towards his wife even with the worthy Kelly whose blundering +goodness so often carried him over difficult ground that few others +would have ventured to negotiate. + +He left Kelly to dress, and went back to the bungalow where Sylvia +was busy with a duster trying to get rid of some of the sand that +thickly covered everything. He had scarcely spoken to her that +morning except for news Of Guy, but now he drew her aside. + +"Look here!" he said. "Don't wear yourself out!" + +She gave him a quick look. "Oh, I shan't do that. Work is good +for me. Isn't this sand too awful for words?" + +She spoke with a determined effort to assume the old careless +attitude towards him, but the nervous flush on her cheeks betrayed +her. + +He put his hand on her shoulder, and wheeled her round somewhat +suddenly towards the light. "You didn't sleep last night," he said. + +She tried to laugh, but she could not check the hot flush of +embarrassment that raced into her pale cheeks under his look. "I +couldn't help it," she said. "I was rather wound up yesterday. +It--was an exciting day, wasn't it?" + +He continued to look at her for several seconds, intently but not +sternly. Then very quietly he spoke. "Sylvia, if things go wrong, +if the servants upset you, come to me about it! Don't go to Guy!" + +She understood the reference in a moment. The flush turned to +flaming crimson that mounted in a wave to her forehead. She drew +back from him, her head high. + +"And if Schafen or any other man comes to you with offensive gossip +regarding my behaviour, please kick him as he deserves--next time!" +she said. "And then--if you think it necessary--come to me for an +explanation!" + +She spoke with supreme scorn, every word a challenge. She was more +angry in that moment than she could remember that she had ever been +before. How dared he hear Schafen's evidence against her, and then +coolly take her thus to task? + +The memory of his kiss swept back upon her as she spoke, that kiss +that had so cruelly wounded her, that kiss that had finally rent +the veil away from her quivering heart. She stood before him with +clenched hands. If he had attempted to kiss her then, she would +have struck him. + +But he did not move. He stood, looking at her, looking at her, +till at last her wide eyes wavered and sank before his own. He +spoke then, an odd inflection in his voice. + +"Why are you so angry?" + +Her two fists were pressed hard against her sides. She was aware +of a weakening of her self-control, and she fought with all her +strength to retain it. She could not speak for a second or two, +but it was not fear that restrained her. + +"Tell me!" he said. "Why are you angry?" + +The colour was dying slowly out of her face; a curious chill had +followed the sudden flame. "It is your own fault," she said. + +"How--my fault?" Burke's voice was wholly free from any sort of +emotion; but his question held insistence notwithstanding. + +She answered it almost in spite of herself. "For making me hate +you." + +He made a slight movement as of one who shifts his hold upon some +chafing creature to strengthen his grip. "How have I done that?" +he said. + +She answered him in a quick, breathless rush of words that betrayed +her failing strength completely. "By doubting me--by being jealous +and showing it--by--by--by insulting me!" + +"What?" he said. + +She turned from him sharply and walked away, battling with herself. +"You know what I mean," she said tremulously. "You know quite well +what I mean. You were angry yesterday--angry because Hans +Schafen--a servant--had told you something that made you distrust +me. And because you were angry, you--you--you insulted me!" She +turned round upon him suddenly with eyes of burning accusation. +She was fighting, fighting, with all her might, to hide from him +that frightened, quivering thing that she herself had recognized +but yesterday. If it had been a plague-spot, she could not have +guarded it more jealously. Its presence scared her. Her every +instinct was to screen it somehow, somehow, from those keen eyes. +For he was so horribly strong, so shrewd, so merciless! + +He came up to her as she wheeled. He took one of her quivering +wrists, and held it, his fingers closely pressed upon the leaping +pulse. "Sylvia!" he said, and this time there was an edge to his +voice that made her aware that he was putting force upon himself. +"I have never insulted you--or distrusted you. Everything was +against me yesterday. But when I left you, I gave all I possessed +into your keeping. It is in your keeping still. Does that look +like distrust?" + +She gave, a quick, involuntary start, but he went on, scarcely +pausing. + +"When a man is going into possible danger, and his wife is thinking +of--other things, is he so greatly to blame if he takes the +quickest means at his disposal of waking her up?" + +"Ah!" she said. Had he not waked her indeed? But yet--but +yet--She looked at ham doubtfully. + +"Listen!" he said. "We've been going round in a circle lately. +It's been like that infernal game we used to play as children. +'Snail,' wasn't it called? Where nobody ever got home and +everybody always lost their tempers! Let's get out of it, Sylvia! +Let's leave Guy and Schafen to look after things, and go to the top +of the world by ourselves! I'll take great care of you. You'll be +happy, you know. You'll like it." + +He spoke urgently, leaning towards her. There was nothing terrible +about him at that moment. All the mastery had gone from his +attitude. He was even smiling a little. + +Her heart gave a great throb. It was so long, so long, since he +had spoken to her thus. And then, like a blasting wind, the memory +of Guy's bitter words rushed across her. She seemed again to feel +the sand of the desert blowing in her face, sand that was blended +with ashes. Was it only a slave that he wanted after all? She +hated herself for the thought, but she could not drive it out. + +"Don't you like that idea?" he said. + +Still she hesitated. "What of Guy?" she said. "We must think of +him, Burke. We must." + +"I'm thinking of him," he said. "A little responsibility would +probably do him good." + +"But to leave him--entirely--" She broke off. Someone was +knocking at the outer door, and she was thankful for the +interruption. Burke turned away, and went to answer. He came back +with a note in his hand. + +"It's Merston's house-boy," he said. "I've sent him round to the +kitchen to get a feed. Something's up there, I am afraid. Let's +see what he has to say!" + +He opened the letter while he was speaking, and there fell a short +silence while he read. Sylvia took up her duster again. Her hands +were trembling. + +In a moment Burke spoke. "Yes, it's from Merston. The poor chap +has had an accident, fallen from his horse and badly wrenched his +back. His overseer is away, and he wants to know if I will go over +and lend a hand. I must go of course." He turned round to her. +"You'll be able to manage for a day or two?" + +Her breathing came quickly, nervously. She felt oddly uncertain of +herself, as if she had just come through a crisis that had bereft +her of all her strength, + +"Of course," she said, not looking at him. "Of course." + +He stood for a moment or two, watching her. Then he moved to her +side. + +"I'm leaving you in charge," he said, "But you won't overdo it? +Promise me!" + +She laughed a little. The thought of his going was a vast relief +to her at that moment. She yearned to be alone, to readjust her +life somehow before she met him again. She wanted to rebuild her +defences. She wanted to be quite sure of herself. + +"Oh, I shall take great care of myself," she said. "I'm very good +at that." + +"I wonder," said Burke, And then he laid his hand upon the flicking +duster and stopped her quivering activity. "Are you still--hating +me?" he said. + +She stood motionless, and still her eyes avoided his. "I'll tell +you," she said, "when we meet again." + +"Does that mean that I am to go--unforgiven?" he said. + +Against her will she looked at him. In spite of her, her lip +trembled, + +He put his arm round her. "Does it?" he said. + +"No," she whispered back. + +In that moment they were nearer than they had been through all the +weeks of Guy's illness, nearer possibly than they had ever been +before. It would have been so easy for Sylvia to lean upon that +strong encircling arm, so easy that she wondered afterwards how she +restrained the impulse to do so. But the moment passed so quickly, +sped by the sound of Kelly's feet upon the _stoep_, and Burke's arm +pressed her close and then fell away. + +There was neither disappointment nor annoyance on his face as he +turned to meet his guest. He was even smiling. + +Sylvia recalled that smile afterwards--the memory of it went with +her through all the bitter hours that followed. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +FOR THE SAKE OF THE OLD LOVE + +Kelly accompanied Burke when, after hurried preparation and +consultation with Schafen, he finally took the rough road that +wound by the _kopje_ on his way to the Merstons' farm. He had not +intended to prolong his visit over two days, and he proposed to +conclude it now; for his leisure was limited, and he had undertaken +to be back in Brennerstadt for the occasion of the diamond draw +which he himself had organized, and which was to take place at the +end of the week. But at Burke's request, as they rode upon their +way, he promised to return to Blue Hill Farm for that night and the +next also if Burke could not return sooner. He did not mean to be +absent for more than two nights. His own affairs could not be +neglected for longer, though he might decide to send Schafen over +to help the Merstons if necessary. + +"My wife can't look after Guy single-handed," he said. "It's not a +woman's job, and I can't risk it. I shall feel easier if you are +there." + +And Kelly professed himself proud to be of service in any capacity. +If Mrs. Burke would put up with him for another night, sure, he'd +be delighted to keep her company, and he'd see that the boy behaved +himself too, though for his own part he didn't think that there was +any vice about him just then. + +They did not visit the hut or the sand whither Guy had betaken +himself. The sun was getting high, and Burke, with the Kaffir boy +who had brought the message running at his stirrup, would not +linger on the road. + +"He's probably having a rest," he said. "He won't be fit for much +else to-day. You'll see him to-night, Donovan?" + +And Donovan promised that he would. He was in fact rather proud of +the confidence reposed in him. To treat him as a friend in need +was the highest compliment that anyone could pay the kind-hearted +Irishman. Cheerily he undertook to remain at Blue Hill Farm until +Burke's return, always providing that Mrs. Burke didn't get tired +of him and turn him out. + +"She won't do that," said Burke. "You'll find she will be +delighted to see you to-day when you get back. She hasn't been +trained for solitude, and I fancy it gets on her nerves." + +Perhaps it did. But on that occasion at least Sylvia was thankful +to be left alone. She had her house to set in order, and at that +very moment she was on her knees in the sitting-room, searching, +searching in all directions for the key which she had dropped on +the previous day during the dust-storm, before Kelly's arrival. +Burke's reference to the matter had recalled it to her mind, and +now with shamed self-reproach she sought in every cranny for the +only thing of any importance which he had ever entrusted to her +care. + +She sought in vain. The sand was thick everywhere, but she +searched every inch of the floor with her hands, and found nothing. +The stifling heat of the day descended upon her as she searched. +She felt sick in mind and body, sick with a growing hopelessness +which she would not acknowledge. The thing could not be lost. She +knew that Burke had slept in the room, and none of the servants had +been alone in it since. So the key must be somewhere there, must +have been kicked into some corner, or caught in a crack. She had +felt so certain of finding it that she had not thought it necessary +to tell Burke of her carelessness. But now she began to wish she +had told him. Her anxiety was turning to a perfect fever of +apprehension. The conviction was beginning to force itself upon +her that someone must have found the key. + +But who--who? No Kaffir, she was certain. No Kaffir had entered. +And Burke had been there all night long. He had slept in the long +chair, giving up his bed to the guest. And he had slept late, +tired out after the violent exertions of the previous day. + +He had slept late! Suddenly, there on her knees in the litter of +sand, another thought flashed through her brain, the thought of her +own sleeplessness, the thought of the early morning, the thought of +Guy. + +He had been up early. He generally rested till late in the +morning. He too had been sleepless. But he had a remedy for that +which she knew he would not scruple to take if he felt the need. +His wild excitement of the night before rose up before her. His +eager interest in Kelly's talk of the diamond, the strangeness of +his attitude that morning. And then, with a lightning suddenness, +came the memory of Kieff. + +Guy was under Kieff's influence. She was certain of it. And +Kieff? She shrank at the bare thought of the man, his subtle +force, his callous strength of purpose, his almost uncanny +intelligence. Yes, she was afraid of Kieff--she had always been +afraid of Kieff. + +The midday heat seemed to press upon her like a burning, crushing +weight. It seemed to deprive her of the power to think, certainly +of the power to reason. For what rational connection could there +be between Kieff and the loss of Burke's key? Kieff was several +miles away at the farm of Piet Vreiboom. And Guy--where was Guy? +She wished he would come back. Surely he would come back soon! +She would tell him of her loss, she yearned to tell someone; she +would get him to help her in her search. For it could not be lost. +It could not be really lost! They would find it somehow--somehow! + +It was no actual reasoning but a blind instinct that moved her to +get up at length and go to the room that Guy had occupied for so +long, the room that was Burke's. It was just as Guy had left it +that morning. She noted mechanically the disordered bed. The +cupboard in the corner was closed as usual, but the key was in the +lock. Burke kept his clothes on the higher shelves. The +strong-box stood on the floor with some boots. + +Her eyes went straight to it. Some magnetism seemed to be at work, +compelling her. And then--she gave a gasp of wonder, and almost +fell on to the sandy floor beside the box. The key was in the lock! + +Was it all a dream then? Had it never been lost? Had she but +imagined Burke's action in confiding it to her? She closed her +eyes for a space, for her brain was swimming. The terrible, +parching heat seemed to have turned into a wheel--a fiery wheel of +torture that revolved behind her eyes, making her wince at every +turn. The pain was intense; when she tried to move, it was +excruciating. She sank down with her head almost on the iron box +and waited in dumb endurance for relief. + +A long time passed so, and she fancied later that she must have +slept, for she dared not move while that awful pain lasted, and she +was scarcely conscious of her surroundings. But it became less +acute at last; she found herself sitting up with wide-open eyes, +trying to collect her thoughts. + +They evaded her for a while, and she dared not employ any very +strenuous effort to capture them, lest that unspeakable suffering +should return. But gradually--very gradually--the power to reason +returned to her. She found herself gazing at the key that had cost +her so much; and after a little, impelled by what seemed to be +almost a new sense within her, she took it between her quivering +fingers and turned it. + +It went with an ease that surprised her, for she remembered--her +brain was becoming every moment more strangely clear and alert--she +remembered that Burke had said only a day or two before that it +needed oiling. She opened the box, and with a fateful premonition +looked within. + +A few papers in a rubber band lay in the bottom of the box, and +beside them, carelessly tossed aside, an envelope! There was no +money at all. + +She took up the envelope, feverishly searching. It contained a +cigarette--one of her own--that had been half-smoked. She stared +at it for a second or two in wonder, then like a stab came the +memory of that night--so long ago--when he had taken the cigarette +from between her lips, when he had been on the verge of speech, +when she had stood waiting to hear . . . and Guy had come between. + +Many seconds later she put the envelope back, and got up. +Conviction had come irresistibly upon her; she knew now whose hand +had oiled the lock, she knew beyond all doubting who had opened the +box, and left it thus. + +She was trembling no longer, but steady--firm as a rock. She must +find Guy. Wherever he was, she must find him. That money--her own +sacred charge--must be returned before she faced Burke again. Guy +was mad. She must save him from his madness. This fight for Guy's +soul--she had seen it coming. She realized it as a hand to hand +fight with Kieff. But she would win. She was bound to win. So +she told herself. No power of evil could possibly triumph +ultimately, and she knew that deep in his inmost heart Guy +acknowledged this. However wild and reckless his words, he did not +really expect to see her waver. He might be the slave of evil +himself, but he knew that she would never share his slavery. He +knew it, and in spite of himself he honoured her. She believed he +would always honour her. And this was the weapon on which she +counted for his deliverance, this and the old sweet friendship +between them that was infinitely more enduring than first love. +She believed that her influence over him was greater than Kieff's. +Otherwise she had not dared to pit her strength against that of the +enemy. Otherwise she had waited to beg the help of Kelly, who +always helped everyone. + +The thought of Burke she put resolutely from her. Burke should +never know, if she could prevent it, how low Guy had fallen. If +only she could save Guy from that, she believed she might save him +from all. When once his eyes were opened, when once she had beaten +down Kieff's ascendancy, the battle would be won. But she must act +immediately and with decision. There was not a moment to lose. If +Guy were not checked now, at the very outset, there would be no +saving him from the abyss. She must find him now, at once. And +she must do it alone. There was no alternative to that. Only +alone could she hope to influence him. + +She stooped and locked the box once more, taking the key. Now that +she knew the worst, her weakness was all gone. With the old steady +fearlessness she went from the room. The battle was before her, +but she knew no misgiving. She would win--she was bound to +win--for the sake of the old love and in the strength of the new. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE BEARER OF EVIL TIDINGS + +It was late in the afternoon when Kelly returned to Blue Hill Farm. +He had been riding round Merston's lands with Burke during a great +part of the day, and he was comfortably tired. He looked forward +to spending a congenial evening with his hostess, and he hoped that +young Guy would not be of too lively a turn, for he was in a mood +for peace. + +The first chill of evening was creeping over the _veldt_ as he +ambled along the trail past the _kopje_. As he came within sight +of the farm a wave of sentiment swept over him. + +"Faith, it's a jolly little homestead!" he said, with a sigh. +"Lucky devil--Burke!" + +There was no one about, and he took his horse to the stable and +gave him a rub-down and feed before catering. Then he made his way +into the house from the back, + +There was a light in the sitting-room, and he betook himself +thither, picturing the homely scene of Sylvia knitting socks for +her husband or engaged upon some housewifely task. + +He announced himself with his customary, cheery garrulity as he +entered. + +"Ah, here I am again, Mrs. Burke! And it's good news I've got for +ye. Merston's not so badly damaged after all, and your husband is +hoping to be back by midday in the morning." + +He stopped short. The room was not empty, but the figure that rose +up with an easy, sinuous movement to meet him was not the figure he +had expected to see. + +"Good evening, Kelly!" said Saul Kieff. + +"What the devil!" said Kelly. + +Kieff smiled in a cold, detached fashion. "I came over to find Mr. +Burke Ranger. But I gather he is away from home." + +"What have you come for?" said Kelly. + +He did not like Kieff though his nature was too kindly to entertain +any active antipathy towards anyone. But no absence of intimacy +could ever curb his curiosity, and he never missed any information +for lack of investigation. + +Kieff's motionless black eyes took him in with satirical +comprehension. He certainly would never have made a confidant of +such a man as Kelly unless it had suited his purpose. He took +several moments for consideration before he made reply. "I presume +you are aware," he said then, "that Mrs. Ranger has left for +Brennerstadt?" + +"What?" said Kelly. + +Kieff did not repeat his question. He merely waited for it to sink +in. A faint, subtle smile still hovered about his sallow features. +It was obvious that he regarded his news in anything but a tragic +light. + +"Gone to Brennerstadt!" ejaculated Kelly at length. "But what the +devil would she go there for? I was going myself to-morrow. I'd +have taken her." + +"She probably preferred to choose her own escort," said Kieff. + +"What?" said Kelly again. "Man, is it the truth you're giving me?" + +"Not much point in lying," said Kieff coldly, "when there is +nothing to be gained by it! Mrs. Burke Ranger has gone to +Brennerstadt by way of Ritzen, in the company of Guy Ranger. Piet +Vreiboom will tell you the same thing if you ask him. He is going +to Brennerstadt too to-morrow, and I with him. Perhaps we can +travel together. We may overtake the amorous couple if we ride all +the way." + +Without any apparent movement, his smile intensified at sight of +the open consternation on Kelly's red countenance. + +"You seem surprised at something," he said. + +"I don't believe a damn' word of it," said Kelly bluntly. "You +didn't see them." + +"I saw them both," said Kieff, still smiling, "Piet Vreiboom saw +them also. But the lady seemed to be in a great hurry, so we did +not detain them. They are probably at Ritzen by now, if not +beyond." + +"Oh, damnation!" said Kelly tragically. + +Kieff's smile slowly vanished. His eyes took on a stony, remote +look as though the matter had ceased to interest him. And while +Kelly tramped impotently about the room, he leaned his shoulders +against the wall and stared into space. + +"I am really rather glad to have met you," he remarked presently. +"Can you give me any tip regarding this diamond of Wilbraham's? +You know its value to the tenth part of a farthing, I have no +doubt." + +Kelly paused to glare at him distractedly, "Oh, curse the diamond!" +he said, "It's Mrs. Burke I'm thinking of." + +Kieff's thin lips curled contemptuously. "A woman!" he said, and +snapped his fingers. "A woman who can be bought and sold +again--for far less than half its cost! My good Kelly! Are you +serious?" + +Kelly stamped an indignant foot. "You infernal, cold-blooded +Kaffir!" he roared. "I'm human anyway, which is more than you are!" + +Kieff's sneer deepened. It was Kelly's privilege always to speak +his mind, and no one took offence however extravagantly he +expressed himself. "Can't we have a drink?" he suggested, in the +indulgent tone of one humouring a fractious child. + +"Drink--with you!" fumed Kelly. + +Kieff smiled again. "Of course you will drink with me! It's too +good an excuse to miss. What is troubling you? Surely there is +nothing very unusual in the fact that Mrs. Burke finds herself in +need of a little change!" + +Kelly groaned aloud. "I've got to go and tell Burke. That's the +hell of it. Sure I'd give all the money I can lay hands on to be +quit of that job." + +"You are over-sensitive," remarked Kieff, showing a gleam of teeth +between his colourless lips. "He will think far less of this than +of disease in his cattle or crops. They were nothing to each +other, nor ever could be. She and Guy Ranger have been lovers all +through." + +"Ah, faith then, I know better!" broke in Kelly. "He worships her +from the crown of her head to the sole of her foot. He'll be fit +to kill young Guy for this. By the saints above us, I could almost +kill him myself." + +"You needn't!" said Kieff with ironical humour. "And Burke needn't +either. As for the woman--" he snapped his fingers again--"she'll +come back like a homing dove, if he waits a little." + +Kelly swore again furiously. "Ah, why did I ever lend myself to +digging young Guy out of Hoffstein's? Only a blasted fool could +have expected to bring anything but corruption out of that sink of +evil. It was Burke's own doing, but I was a fool--I was a three +times fool--to give in to him." + +"Where is the worthy Burke?" questioned Kieff, "Over at Merston's, +doing the good Samaritan; been working like a nigger all day. And +now!" There was actually a sound of tears in Kelly's voice. "I'd +give me right hand," he vowed tremulously, "I'd give me soul--such +as it is--to be out of this job." + +"You want a drink," said Kieff. + +Kelly sniffed and began a clumsy search for refreshment. + +Kieff came forward kindly and helped him. It was he who measured +the drinks finally when they were produced, and even Kelly, who +could stand a good deal, opened his eyes somewhat at the draught he +prepared for himself. + +"Dry weather!" remarked Kieff, as he tossed it down. "You're not +going back to Merston's to-night, are you?" + +"Must," said Kelly laconically. + +"Why not wait till the morning?" suggested Kieff. "I shall be +passing that way myself then. We could go together." + +There was a gleam in his black eyes that made Kelly look at him +hard. "And what would you want to be there for?" he demanded +aggressively. "Isn't one bearer of evil tidings enough?" + +Kieff smiled. "I wonder if the lady left any message behind," he +suggested. "Possibly she has written a note to explain her own +absence. How long did the good Burke propose to be away?" + +"Two or three nights in the first place. But he is coming back +to-morrow." A sudden idea flashed upon Kelly. "Ah, p'raps she's +hoping to be back before he is! Maybe there's more to this than we +understand! I'll not go over. I'll wait and see. She may be back +in the morning, she and young Guy too. They're old friends. +P'raps there's nothing in it but just a jaunt." + +Kieff's laugh had a sound like the slipping of a stone in a slimy +cave. "You always had ideas," he remarked. "But they will +scarcely be back from Brennerstadt by the morning. Can't you +devise some means of persuading Burke to extend his visit to the +period originally intended? Then perhaps they might return in +time." + +Kelly looked at him sternly. That laugh was abominable in his +ears. "Faith, I'll go now," he said. "And I'll go alone. You've +done your part, and I'll not trouble you at all to help me do mine." + +Kieff turned to go. "I always admired your sense of duty, +Donovan," he said. "Let us hope it will bring you out on the right +side,--and your friends the Rangers with you!" + +He was gone with the words, silent as a shadow on the wall, and +Kelly was left wondering why he had not seized the bearer of evil +tidings and kicked the horrible laughter out of him. + +"Faith, I'll do it when I get to Brennerstadt," he said to himself +vindictively. "But it's friends first, eh, Burke, my lad?--Ah, +Burke, my boy, friends first!" + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE SHARP CORNER + +Was it only a few months since last she had looked out over the +barren _veldt_ from the railway at Ritzen? It seemed to Sylvia +like half a lifetime. + +In the dark of the early morning she sat in the southward-bound +train on her way to Brennerstadt, and tried to recall her first +impressions. There he had stood under the lamp waiting for +her--the man whom she had taken for Guy. She saw herself springing +to meet him with eager welcome on her lips and swift-growing +misgiving at her heart. How good he had been to her! That thought +came up above the rest, crowding out the memory of her first +terrible dismay. He had surrounded her with a care as chivalrous +as any of the friends of her former life could have displayed. He +had sheltered her from the dreadful loneliness, and from the world +upon the mercy of which she had been so completely thrown. He had +not seemed to bestow, but she realized now how at every turn his +goodness had provided, his strength had shielded. He had not +suffered her to feel the obligation under which she was placed. He +had treated her merely as a comrade in distress. He had given her +freely the very best that a man could offer, and he had done it in +a fashion that had made acceptance easy, almost inevitable. + +Her thoughts travelled onwards till they came to her marriage. +Again the memory of the man's unfailing chivalry came before all +else. Again, how good he had been to her! And she had taken full +advantage of his goodness. For the first time she wondered if she +had been justified in so doing. She asked herself if she had +behaved contemptibly. She had not been ready to make a full +surrender, and he had not asked for it. But it seemed to her now +that she had returned his gifts with a niggardliness which must +have made her appear very small-minded. He had been great. He had +subordinated his wishes to her. He had been patient; ah yes, +perhaps too patient! Probably her utter dependence upon him had +made him so. + +Slowly her thoughts passed on to the coming of Guy. She realized +that the rapid events that had succeeded his coming had rendered +her impressions of Burke a little blurred. Through all those first +stages of Guy's illness, she could scarcely recall him at all. Her +mind was full of the image of Kieff, subtle, cruel, almost +ghoulish, a man of deep cunning and incomprehensible motives. It +had suited his whim to save Guy. She had often wondered why. She +was certain that no impulse of affection had moved him or was +capable of moving him. No pity, no sympathy, had ever complicated +this man's aims or crippled his achievements. He had a clear, +substantial reason for everything that he did. It had pleased him +to bring Guy back to life, and so he had not scrupled as to the +means he had employed to do so. He had practically forced her into +a position which circumstances had combined to make her retain. He +had probably, she reflected now, urged Guy upon every opportunity +to play the traitor to his best friend. He had established over +him an influence which she felt that it would take her utmost +effort to overthrow. He had even forced him into the quagmire of +crime. For that Guy had done this thing, or would ever have +dreamed of doing it, on his own initiative she did not believe. +And it was that certainty which had sent her from his empty hut on +the sand in pursuit of him, daring all to win him back ere he had +sunk too deep for deliverance. She had ridden to Ritzen by way of +the Vreiboom's farm, half-expecting to find Guy there. But she had +seen only Kieff and Piet Vreiboom. Her face burned still at the +memory of the former's satirical assurance that Guy was but a few +miles ahead of her and she would easily overtake him. He had +translated this speech to Piet Vreiboom who had laughed, laughed +with a sickening significance, at the joke. In her disgust she had +ridden swiftly on without stopping to ascertain if Guy had gone to +Ritzen or had decided to ride the whole forty miles to Brennerstadt. + +The lateness of the hour, however, had decided her to make for the +former place since she knew she could get a train there on the +following morning and she could not face the long journey at night +alone on the _veldt_. It had been late when she reached Ritzen, +but she had thankfully found accommodation for the night at the by +no means luxurious hotel in which she had slept on the night of her +arrival so long ago. + +Now in the early morning she was ready to start again, having +regretfully left her horse, Diamond, in the hotel-stable to await +her return. + +If all went well, she counted upon being back, perhaps with Guy +accompanying her, in the early afternoon. And then she would +probably be at Blue Hill Farm again before Burke's return. She +hoped with all her heart to accomplish this. For though it would +be impossible to hide the fact of her journey from him, she did not +want him to suspect the actual reason that had made it so urgent. +Let him think that anxiety for Guy--their mutual charge--had sent +her after him! But never, for Guy's sake, let him imagine the +actual shameful facts of the case! She counted upon Burke's +ignorance as the strongest weapon for Guy's persuasion. Let him +but realize that a way of escape yet remained to him, and she +believed that he would take it. For surely--ah, surely, if she +knew him--he had begun already to repent in burning shame and +self-loathing. + +He must have ridden all the way to Brennerstadt, for he was not at +Ritzen. Ritzen was not a place to hide in. Would she find him at +Brennerstadt? There were only two hotels there, and Kieff had said +he would stop at one of them. She did not trust Kieff for a +moment, but some inner conviction told her that it was his +intention that she should find Guy. He did not expect her +influence to overcome his. That she fully realized. He was not +afraid of being superseded. Perhaps he wanted to demonstrate to +her her utter weakness. Perhaps he had deeper schemes. She did +not stop to imagine what they were. She shrank from the thought of +them as purity shrinks instinctively from the contemplation of +evil. She believed that, if once she could meet Guy face to face, +she could defeat him. She counted upon that understanding which +had been between them from the beginning and which had drawn them +to each other in spite of all opposition. She counted upon that +part of Guy which Kieff had never known, those hidden qualities +which vice had overgrown like a fungus but which she knew were +still existent under the surface evil. Guy had been generous and +frank in the old days, a lover of fair play, an impetuous follower +of anything that appealed to him as great. She was sure that these +characteristics had been an essential part of his nature. He had +failed through instability, through self-indulgence and weakness of +purpose. But he was not fundamentally wicked. She was sure that +she could appeal to those good impulses within him, and that she +would not appeal in vain. She was sure that the power of good +would still be paramount over him if she held out to him the +helping hand which he so sorely needed. She had the strength +within her--strength that was more than human--and she was certain +of the victory, if only she could find him quickly, quickly! + +As she sat there waiting feverishly to start, her whole being was +in a passion of supplication that she might be in time. Even in +her sleep she had prayed that one prayer with a fierce urging that +had rendered actual repose an impossibility. She had never in her +life prayed with so intense a force. It was as if she were staking +the whole of her faith upon that one importunate plea, and though +no answer came to her striving spirit, she told herself that it +could not be in vain. In all her maddening anxiety and impatience +she never for a moment dwelt upon the chance of failure. God could +not suffer her to fail when she had fought so hard. Her very brain +seemed on fire with the urgency of her mission, and again for a +space the thought of Burke was crowded out. He occupied the back +of her mind, but she would not voluntarily turn towards him. That +would come later when her mission was fulfilled, when she could +look him in the face again with no sense of a charge neglected, or +trust betrayed. She must stand straight with Burke, but she must +save Guy first, whatever the effort, whatever the cost. She felt +she had forfeited the right to think of her own happiness till her +negligence--and the terrible consequences thereof--had been +remedied. Perhaps it was in a measure self-blame that inspired her +frantic prayer, the feeling that the responsibility was hers, and +therefore that she was a sharer of the guilt. That was another +plea, less worthy perhaps; but one to which Guy could not refuse to +listen. It could not be his intention to wreck her happiness. He +could not know all that hung upon it. Her happiness! She shivered +suddenly in the chill of the morning air. Could it be that +happiness--the greatest of all--had been actually within her grasp, +and she had let it slip unheeded? Sharply she turned her thoughts +back. No, she must not--must not think of Burke just then. + +The chance would come again. The chance must come again. But she +must not suffer herself to contemplate it now. She had forfeited +the right. + +Time passed. She thought the train would never start. The long +waiting had become almost a nightmare. She felt she would not be +able to endure it much longer. The night had seemed endless too, a +perpetual dozing and waking that had seemed to multiply the hours. +Now and then she realized that she was very tired; but for the most +part the fever of impatience that possessed her kept the +consciousness of fatigue at bay. If only she could keep moving she +felt that she could face anything. + +The day broke over the _veldt_ and the scattered open town, with a +burning splendour like the kindling of a great fire. She watched +the dawn-light spread till the northern hills shone with a +celestial radiance. She leaned from the train to watch it; and as +she watched, the whole world turned golden. + +Burke's words flashed back upon her with a force irresistible. +"Let us go to the top of the world by ourselves!" Her eyes filled +with sudden tears, and as she sank down again in her seat the train +began to move. It bore her relentlessly southwards, and the land +of the early morning was left behind. + +She reflected later that that journey must have been doomed to +disaster from the very outset. It was begun an hour late, and all +things seemed to conspire to hinder them. After many halts, the +breaking of an engine-piston rendered them helpless, and the heat +of the day found them in a desolate place among _kopjes_ that +seemed to crowd them in, cutting off every current of air, while +the sun blazed mercilessly overhead and the sand-flies ceaselessly +buzzed and tormented. It was the longest day that Sylvia had ever +known, and she thought that the smell of Kaffirs would haunt her +all her life. Of the few white men on the train she knew not one, +and the desolation of despair entered into her. + +By the afternoon, when she had hoped to be on her way back, tardy +help arrived, and they crawled into Brennerstadt station, parched +and dusty and half-starved, some three hours later. + +Hope revived in her as at length she left the train. Anything was +better than the awful inactivity of that well-nigh interminable +journey. There was yet a chance--a slender one--that by an early +start or possibly travelling by a night train she and Guy might yet +be back at Blue Hill Farm by the following evening in time to meet +Burke on his return. + +Yes, the chance was there, and still she could not think that all +this desperate effort of hers could be doomed to failure. If she +could only find Guy quickly--oh, quickly! She almost ran out of +the station in her haste. + +She turned her steps instinctively towards the hotel in which she +had stayed for her marriage, It was not far from the station, and +it was the first place that occurred to her. The town was full of +people, men for the most part, men it seemed to her, of all +nationalities and colours. She heard Dutch and broken English all +around her. + +She went through the crowds, shrinking a little now and then from +any especially coarse type, nervously intent upon avoiding contact +with any. She found the hotel without difficulty, but when she +found it she checked her progress for the first time. For she was +afraid to enter. + +The evening was drawing on. She felt the welcome chill of it on +her burning face, and it kept her from yielding to the faintness +that oppressed her. But still she could not enter, till a great, +square-built Boer lounging near the doorway came up to her and +looked into her eyes with an evil leer. + +Then she summoned her strength, drew herself up, and passed him +with open disgust. + +She had to push her way through a crowd of men idling in the +entrance, and one or two accosted her, but she went by them in +stony unresponsiveness. + +At the little office at the end she found a girl, sandy-haired and +sandy-eyed, who looked up for a moment from a great book in front +of her, and before she could speak, said briskly, "There's no more +accommodation here. The place is full to overflowing. Better try +at the Good Hope over the way." + +She had returned to her occupation before the words were well +uttered, but Sylvia stood motionless, a little giddy, leaning +against the woodwork for support. + +"I only want to know," she said, after a moment, speaking with an +effort in a voice that sounded oddly muffled even to herself, "if +Mr. Ranger is here." + +"Who?" The girl looked up sharply. "Hullo!" she said. "What's the +matter?" + +"If Mr. Ranger--Mr. Ranger--is here," Sylvia repeated through a +curious mist that had gathered unaccountably around her. + +The girl got up and came to her. "Yes, he's here, I believe, or +will be presently. He's engaged a room anyhow. I didn't see him +myself. Look here, you'd better come and sit down a minute. I +seem to remember you. You're Mrs. Ranger, aren't you?" + +"Yes," said Sylvia. + +She was past explanation just then, and that simple affirmative +seemed her only course. She leaned thankfully upon the supporting +arm, fighting blindly to retain her senses. + +"Come and sit down!" the girl repeated. "I expect he'll be in +before long. They're all mad about this diamond draw. The whole +town is buzzing with it. The races aren't in it. Sit down and +I'll get you something." + +She drew Sylvia into a small inner sanctum and there left her, +sitting exhausted in a wooden armchair. She returned presently +with a tray which she set in front of her, observing practically, +"That's what you're wanting. Have a good feed, and when you've +done you'd better go up and lie down till he comes." + +She went back to her office then, closing the door between, and +Sylvia was left to recover as best she might. She forced herself +after a time to eat and drink, reflecting that physical weakness +would utterly unfit her for the task before her. She hoped with +all her heart that Guy would come soon--soon. There was a night +train back to Ritzen. She had ascertained that at the station. +They might catch that. The diamond draw was still two days away. +She prayed that he had not yet staked anything upon it, that when +he came the money might be still in his possession. + +She finished her meal and felt considerably revived. For a while +she sat listening to the hubbub of strange voices without, then the +fear that her presence might be forgotten by the busy occupant of +the office moved her to rise and open the intervening door. + +The girl was still there. She glanced round with the same alert +expression. "That you, Mrs. Ranger? He hasn't come in yet. But +you go up and wait for him! It's quieter upstairs. I'll tell him +you're here as soon as he comes in." + +She did not want to comply, but certainly the little room adjoining +the office was no place for private talk, and she dreaded the idea +of meeting Guy before the curious eyes of strangers. He would be +startled; he would be ashamed! None but herself must see him in +that moment. + +So, without protest, she allowed herself to be conducted upstairs +to the room he had engaged, her friend in the office promising +faithfully not to forget to send him up to her at once. + +The room was at the top of the house, a bare apartment but not +uncomfortable. It possessed a large window that looked across the +wide street. + +She sat down beside it and listened to the tramping crowds below. + +Her faintness had passed, but she was very tired, overwhelmingly +so. Very soon her senses became dulled to the turmoil. She +suffered herself to relax, certain that the first sound of a step +outside would recall her. And so, as night spread over the town, +she sank into sleep, lying back in the cane-chair like a worn-out +child, her burnished hair vivid against the darkness beyond. + +She did not wake at the sound of a step outside, or even at the +opening of the door. It was no sound that aroused her hours later, +but a sudden intense consciousness of expediency, as if she had +come to a sharp comer that it needed all her wits to turn in +safety. She started up with a gasp. "Guy!" she said. And then, +as her dazzled eyes saw more clearly, a low, involuntary +exclamation of dismay. "Ah!" + +It was Burke who stood with his back against the closed door, +looking at her, and his face had upon it in those first waking +moments of bewilderment a look that appalled her. For it was to +her as the face of a murderer. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE COST + +He did not speak in answer to her exclamation, merely stood there +looking at her, almost as if he had never seen her before. His +eyes were keen with a sort of icy fierceness. She thought she had +never before realized the cruelty of his mouth. + +It was she who spoke first. The silence seemed so impossible. +"Burke!" she said. "What--is the matter?" + +He came forward to her with an abruptness that was like the +breaking of bonds. He stopped in front of her, looking closely +into her face. "What are you doing here?" he said. + +In spite of herself she shrank, so terrible was his look. But she +was swift to master her weakness. She stood up to her full height, +facing him. "I have come to find Guy," she said. + +He threw a glance around; it was like the sweep of a rapier. "You +are waiting for him--here?" + +Again for a moment she was disconcerted. She felt the quick blood +rise to her forehead. "They told me he would come here," she said. + +He passed on, almost as if she had not spoken, but his eyes were +mercilessly upon her, marking her confusion. "What do you want +with him?" + +His words were like the snap of a steel rope. They made her flinch +by their very ruthlessness. She had sprung from sleep with +bewildered senses. She was not-prepared to do battle in her own +defence. + +She hesitated, and immediately his hand closed upon her shoulder. +It seemed to her that she had never known what anger could be like +before this moment. All the force of the man seemed to be gathered +together in one tremendous wave, menacing her. + +"Tell me what you want with him!" he said. + +She shuddered from head to foot as if she had been struck with a +scourge. "Burke! What do you mean?" she cried out desperately. +"You--you must be mad!" + +"Answer me!" he said. + +His hold was a grip. The ice in his eyes had turned to flame. Her +heart leapt and quivered within her like a wild thing fighting to +escape. + +"I--don't know what you mean," she panted. "I have done nothing +wrong. I came after him to--to try and bring him back." + +"Then why did you come secretly?" he said, + +She shrank from the intolerable inquisition of his eyes. "I wanted +to see him--alone," she said. + +"Why?" Again it was like the merciless cut of a scourge. She +caught her breath with a sharp sound that was almost a cry. + +"Why?" he reiterated. "Answer me! Answer me!" + +She did not answer him. She could not. And in the silence that +followed, it seemed to her that something within her--something +that had been Vitally wounded--struggled and died. + +"Look at me!" he said. + +She lifted an ashen face. His eyes held hers, and the torture of +his hell encompassed her also. + +"Tell me the truth!" he said. "I shall know if you lie. When did +you see him last?" + +She shook her head. "A long while ago. Ages ago. Before you left +the farm." + +The memory of his going, his touch, his smile went through her with +the words. She had a sickening sensation as of having been struck +over the heart. + +"Where did you spend last night?" he said. + +"At Ritzen." Her white lips seemed to speak mechanically. She +herself stood apart as it were, stunned beyond feeling. + +"You came here by rail---alone?" + +The voice of the inquisitor pierced her numbed sensibilities, +compelling--almost dictating--her answer. + +"Yes--alone." + +"You had arranged to meet here then?" + +Still the scourging continued, and she marvelled at herself, that +she felt so little. But feeling was coming back. She was waiting +for it, dreading it. + +She answered without conscious effort. "No--I came after him. He +doesn't know I am here." + +"And yet you are posing as his wife?" + +She felt that. It cut through her apathy irresistibly. A sharp +tremor went through her. "That," she said rather breathlessly, +"was a mistake." + +"It was." said Burke. "The greatest mistake of your life. It is a +pity you took the trouble to lie to me. The truth would have +served you better." He turned from her contemptuously with the +words, setting her free. + +For a moment the relief of his going was such that the intention +that lay behind it did not so much as occur to her. Then suddenly +it flashed upon her. He was going in search of Guy. + +In an instant her passivity was gone. The necessity for action +drove her forward. With a cry she sprang to the door before him, +and set herself against it. She could not let him go with that +look of the murderer in his eyes. + +"Burke!" she gasped. "Burke! What--are you going to do?" + +His lips parted a little, and she saw his teeth. "You shall hear +what I have done--afterwards," he said. "Let me pass!" + +But she barred his way. Her numbed senses were all awake now and +quivering. The very fact of physical effort seemed to have +restored to her the power to suffer. She stood before him, her +bosom heaving with great sobs that brought no tears or relief of +any sort to the anguish that tore her. + +"You--you can't pass," she said. "Not--not--like this! Burke, +listen! I swear to you--I swear----" + +"You needn't," he broke in. "A woman's oath, when it is her last +resource, is quite valueless. I will deal with you afterwards. +Let me pass!" + +The command was curt as a blow. But still she withstood him, +striving to still her agitation, striving with all her desperate +courage to face him and endure. + +"I will not!" she said, and with the words she stood up to her +full, slim height, thwarting him, making her last stand. + +His expression changed as he realized her defiance. She was +panting still, but there was no sign of yielding in her attitude. +She was girt for resistance to the utmost. + +There fell an awful pause--a silence which only her rapid breathing +disturbed. Her eyes were fixed on his. She must have seen the +change, but she dared it unflinching. There was no turning back +for her now. + +The man spoke at last, and his voice was absolutely quiet, dead +level. "You had better let me go," he said. + +She made a sharp movement, for there was that in the steel-cold +voice that sent terror to her heart. Was this Burke--the man upon +whose goodness she had leaned ever since she had come to this land +of strangers? Surely she had never met him before that moment! + +"Open that door!" he said. + +A great tremor went through her. She turned, the instinct to obey +urging her. But in the same instant the thought of Guy--Guy in +mortal danger--flashed across her. She paused for a second, making +a supreme effort, while every impulse fought in mad tumult within +her, crying to her to yield. Then, with a lightning twist of the +hand she turned the key and pulled it from the lock. For an +instant she held it in her hand, then with a half-strangled sound +she thrust it deep into her bosom. + +Her eyes shone like flames in her white face as she turned back to +him. "Perhaps you will believe me--now!" she said. + +He took a single step forward and caught, her by the wrists. +"Woman!" he said. "Do you know what you are doing?" + +The passion that blazed in his look appalled her. Yet some strange +force within her awoke as it were in answer to her need. She flung +fear aside. She had done the only thing possible, and she would +not look back. + +"You must believe me--now!" she panted. "You do believe me!" + +His hold became a grip, merciless, fierce, tightening upon her like +a dosing trap. "Why should I believe you?" he said, and there was +that in his voice that was harder to bear than his look. "Have I +any special reason for believing you? Have you ever given me one?" + +"You know me," she said, with a sinking heart. + +He uttered a scoffing sound too bitter to be called a laugh. "Do I +know you? Have I ever been as near to you as this devil who has +made himself notorious with Kaffir women for as long as he has been +out here?" + +She flinched momentarily from the stark cruelty of his words. But +she faced him still, faced him though every instinct of her +womanhood shrank with a dread unspeakable. + +"You know me," she said again. "You may not know me very well, but +you know me well enough for that." + +It was bravely spoken, but as she ceased to speak she felt her +strength begin to fail her. Her throat worked spasmodically, +convulsively, and a terrible tremor went through her. She saw him +as through a haze that blotted out all beside. + +There fell a silence between them--a dreadful, interminable silence +that seemed to stretch into eternities. And through it very +strangely she heard the wild beating of her own heart, like the +hoofs of a galloping horse, that seemed to die away. . . . + +She did not know whether she fell, or whether he lifted her, but +when the blinding mist cleared away again, she was lying in the +wicker-chair by the window, and he was walking up and down the room +with the ceaseless motion of a prowling animal. She sat up slowly +and looked at him. She was shivering all over, as if stricken with +cold. + +At her movement he came and stood before her, but he did not speak. +He seemed to be watching her. Or was he waiting for something? + +She could not tell; neither, as he stood there, could she look up +at him to see. Only, after a moment, she leaned forward. She +found and held his hand. + +"Burke!" she said. + +His fingers closed as if they would crush her own. He did not +utter a word. + +She waited for a space, gathering her strength. Then, speaking +almost under her breath, she went on. "I have--something to say to +you. Please will you listen--till I have finished?" + +"Go on!" he said. + +Her head was bent. She went on tremulously. "You are quite +right--when you say--that you don't know me--that I have given you +no reason--no good reason--to believe in me. I have taken--a great +deal from you. And I have given--nothing in return. I see that +now. That is why you distrust me. I--have only myself to thank." + +She paused a moment, but he waited in absolute silence, neither +helping nor hindering. + +With a painful effort she continued. "People make +mistaken--sometimes--without knowing it. It comes to them +afterwards--perhaps too late. But--it isn't too late with me, +Burke. I am your partner--your wife. And--I never meant +to--defraud you. All I have--is yours. I--am yours." + +She stopped. Her head was bowed against his hand. That dreadful +sobbing threatened to overwhelm her again, but she fought it down. +She waited quivering for his answer. + +But for many seconds Burke neither moved nor spoke. The grasp of +his hand was vicelike in its rigidity. She had no key whatever to +what was passing in his mind. + +Not till she had mastered herself and was sitting in absolute +stillness, did he stir. Then, very quietly, with a decision that +brooked no resistance, he took her by the chin with his free hand +and turned her face up to his own. He looked deep into her eyes. +His own were no longer ablaze, but a fitful light came and went in +them like the flare of a torch in the desert wind. + +"So," he said, and his voice was curiously unsteady also; it +vibrated as if he were not wholly sure of himself, "you have made +your choice--and counted the cost?" + +"Yes," she said. + +He looked with greater intentness into her eyes, searching without +mercy, as if he would force his way to her very soul. "And for +whose sake this--sacrifice?" he said. + +She shrank a little; for there was something intolerable in his +words. Had she really counted the cost? Her eyelids fluttered +under that unsparing look, fluttered and sank. "You will +know--some day," she whispered. + +"Ah! Some day!" he said. + +Again his voice vibrated. It was as if some door that led to his +innermost being had opened suddenly, releasing a savage, primitive +force which till then he had held restrained. + +And in that moment it came to her that the thing she valued most in +life had been rudely torn from her. She saw that new, most +precious gift of hers that had sprung to life in the wilderness and +which she had striven so desperately to shield from harm--that holy +thing which had become dearer to her than life itself--desecrated, +broken, and lying in the dust. And it was Burke who had flung it +there, Burke who now ruthlessly trampled it underfoot. + +Her throat worked again painfully for a moment or two; and then +with a great effort of the will she stilled it. This thing was +beyond tears--a cataclysm wrecking the whole structure of +existence. Neither tears nor laughter could ever be hers again. +In silence she took the cup of bitterness, and drank it to the +dregs. + + + + +PART IV + +CHAPTER I + +SAND OF THE DESERT + +Donovan Kelly was out of temper. There was no denying it, though +with him such a frame of mind was phenomenal. He leaned moodily +against the door-post at the hotel-entrance, smoking a short pipe +of very strong tobacco, and speaking to no one. He had been there +for some time, and the girl in the office was watching him with +eyes round with curiosity. For he had not even said "Good morning" +to her. She wanted to accost him, but somehow the hunch of his +shoulders was too discouraging even for her. So she contented +herself with waiting developments. + +There were plenty of men coming and going, but though several of +them gave him greeting as they passed, Kelly responded to none. He +seemed to be wrapped in a gloomy fog of meditation that cut him off +completely from the outside world. He was alone with himself, and +in that state he obviously intended to remain. + +But the girl in the office had her own shrewd suspicions as to the +reason of his waiting there, suspicions which after the lapse of +nearly half an hour she triumphantly saw verified. For presently +through the shifting, ever-changing crowd a square-shouldered man +made his appearance, and without a glance to right or left went +straight to the big Irishman lounging in the doorway, and took him +by the shoulder. + +Kelly started round with an instant smile of welcome. "Ah, and is +it yourself at last? I've been waiting a devil of a time for ye, +my son. Is all well?" + +The girl in the office did not hear Burke's reply though she craned +far forward to do so. She only saw his shoulders go up slightly, +and the next moment the two men turned and entered the public +dining-room together. + +Kelly's ill-temper had gone like an early morning fog. He led the +way to a table reserved in a corner, and they sat down. + +"I was half afraid ye wouldn't have anything but a kick for Donovan +this morning," he said, with a somewhat rueful smile. + +Burke's own brief smile showed for a moment. "I shouldn't start on +you anyway," he said. "You found young Guy?" + +Kelly made an expressive gesture. "Oh yes, I found him, him and +his master too. At Hoffstein's of course. Kieff was holding one +of his opium shows, the damn' dirty skunk. I couldn't get the boy +away, but I satisfied myself that he was innocent of this. He +never engaged a room here or had any intention of coming here. +What Kieff's intentions were I didn't enquire. But he had got the +devil's own grip on Guy last night, He could have made him +do--anything." Kelly ended with a few strong expressions which +left no doubt as to the opinion he entertained of Kieff and all his +works. + +Burke ate his breakfast in an absorbed silence. Finally he looked +up to enquire, "Have you any idea what has become of Guy this +morning?" + +Kelly shook his head. "Not the shadow of a notion. I shall look +for him presently on the racecourse. He seems to have found some +money to play with, for he told me he had taken two tickets for the +diamond draw, one for himself and one for another. But he was just +mad last night. The very devil had got into him. What will I do +with him if I get him?" + +Burke's eyes met his for a moment. "You can do--anything you like +with him," he said. + +"Ah, but he saved your life, Burke," said the Irishman pleadingly. +"It's only three days ago." + +"I know what he did," said Burke briefly, both before and after +that episode. "He may think himself lucky that I have no further +use for him." + +"But aren't you satisfied, Burke?" Kelly leaned forward +impulsively. "I've told you the truth. Aren't you satisfied?" + +Burke's face was grim as if hewn out of rock. "Not yet," he said. +"You've told me the truth--what you know of it. But there's more +to it. I've got to know--everything before I'm satisfied." + +"Ah, but sure!" protested Kelly. "Women are very queer, you know. +Ye can't tell what moves a woman. Often as not, it's something +quite different from what you'd think." + +Burke was silent, continuing his breakfast. + +Kelly looked at him with eyes of pathetic persuasion. "I've been +lambastin' meself all night," he burst forth suddenly, "for ever +bringing ye out on such a chase. It was foul work. I see it now. +She'd have come back to ye, Burke lad. She didn't mean any harm. +Sure, she's as pure as the stars." + +Burke's grey eyes, keen as the morning light, looked suddenly +straight at him. Almost under his breath, Burke spoke. "Don't +tell me--that!" he said. "Just keep Guy out of my way! That's +all." + +Kelly sighed aloud. "And Guy'll go to perdition faster than if the +devil had kicked him. He's on his way already." + +"Let him go!" said Burke. + +It was his last word on the subject. Having spoken it, he gave his +attention to the meal before him, and concluded it with a +deliberate disregard for Kelly's depressed countenance that an +onlooker might have found somewhat brutal. + +"What are you going to do?" asked Kelly meekly, as at length he +pushed back his chair. + +Burke's eyes came to him again. He smiled faintly at the woebegone +visage before him. "Cheer up, Donovan!" he said. "You're all +right. You've had a beastly job, but you've done it decently. I'm +going back to my wife now. She breakfasted upstairs. We shall +probably make tracks this evening." + +"Ah!" groaned Kelly. "Your wife'll never speak to me again after +this. And I thinking her the most charming woman in the world!" + +Burke turned to go, "Don't fret yourself on that account!" he said. +"My wife will treat my friends exactly as she would treat her own." + +He spoke with a confidence that aroused Kelly's admiration. "Sure, +you know how to manage a woman, don't ye, Burke, me lad?" he said. + +He watched the broad figure till it was out of sight, then got up +and went out into the hot sunshine, intent upon another quest. + +Burke went on steadily up the stairs till he reached the top story +where he met a servant carrying a breakfast-tray with the meal +practically untouched upon it. With a brief word Burke took the +tray himself, and went on with the same air of absolute purpose to +the door at the end of the passage. + +Here, just for a moment he paused, standing in semi-darkness, +listening. Then he knocked. Sylvia's voice answered him, and he +entered. + +She was dressed and standing by the window. "Oh, please, Burke!" +she said quickly, at sight of what he carried. "I can't eat +anything more." + +He set down the tray and looked at her. "Why did you get up?" he +said. + +Her face was flushed. There was unrest in every line of her. "I +had to get up," she said feverishly. "I can't rest here. It is so +noisy. I want to get out of this horrible place. I can't breathe +here. Besides--besides----" + +"Sit down!" said Burke. + +"Oh, don't make me eat anything!" she pleaded. "I really can't. I +am sorry, but really----" + +"Sit down!" he said again, and laid a steady hand upon her. + +She yielded with obvious reluctance, avoiding his eyes. "I am +quite all right," she said. "Don't bully me, partner!" + +Her voice quivered suddenly, and she put her hand to her throat. +Burke was pouring milk into a cap. She watched him, fighting with +herself. + +"Now," he said, "you can drink this anyway. It's what you're +needing." He gave her the cup, and she took it from him without a +word. He turned away, and stood at the window, waiting. + +At the end of a full minute, he spoke. "Has it gone?" + +"Yes," she said. + +He turned back and looked at her. She met his eyes with an effort. + +"I am quite all right," she said again. + +"Ready to start back?" he said. + +She leaned forward in her chair, her hands clasped very tightly in +front of her. "To-day?" she said in a low voice. + +"I thought you wanted to get away," said Burke. + +"Yes--yes, I do." Her eyes suddenly fell before his. "I do," she +said again. "But--but--I've got--something--to ask of you--first." + +"Well?" said Burke. + +Her breath came quickly; her fingers were straining against each +other. "I--don't quite know--how to say it," she said. + +Burke stood quite motionless, looking down at her. "Must it be +said?" he asked. + +"Yes." She sat for a moment or two, mustering her strength. Then, +with an abrupt effort, she got up and faced him. "Burke, I think I +have a right to your trust," she said. + +He looked straight back at her with piercing, relentless eyes. "If +we are going to talk of rights," he said, "I might claim a right to +your confidence." + +She drew back a little, involuntarily, but the next moment, +quickly, she went to him and clasped his arm between her hands. +"Please be generous, partner!" she said. "We won't talk of rights, +either of us. You--are not--angry with me now, are you?" + +He stiffened somewhat at her touch, but he did not repulse her. +"I'm afraid you won't find me in a very yielding mood," he said. + +She held his arm a little more tightly, albeit her hands were +trembling. "Won't you listen to me?" she said, in a voice that +quivered. "Is there--no possibility of--of--coming to an +understanding?" + +He drew a slow hard breath. "We have a very long way to go first," +he said. + +"I know," she answered, and her voice was quick with pain. "I +know. But--we can't go on--like this. It--just isn't bearable. +If--even if you can't understand me--Burke, won't you--won't you +try at least to give me--the benefit of the doubt?" + +It was very winningly spoken, but as she spoke she leaned her head +suddenly against the arm she held and stifled a sob. "For both our +sakes!" she whispered. + +But Burke stood, rigid as rock, staring straight before him into +the glaring sunlight. She did not know what was passing in his +mind; that was the trouble of it. But she felt his grim resistance +like a wall of granite, blocking her way. And the brave heart of +her sank in spite of all her courage. + +He moved at last, but it was a movement of constraint. He laid his +free hand on her shoulder. "Crying won't help," he said. "I think +we had better be getting back." + +And then, for the sake of the old love, she made her supreme +effort. She lifted her face; it was white to the lips, but it bore +no sign of tears. "I can't go," she said, "till--I have seen Guy." + +He made a sharp gesture. "Ah!" he said. "I thought that was +coming." + +"Yes, you knew it! You knew it!" Passionately she uttered the +words. "It's the one thing that's got to be settled between +us--the only thing left that counts. Yes, you mean to refuse. I +know that. But--before you refuse--wait, please wait! I am asking +it quite as much for your sake as for mine." + +"And for his," said Burke, with a twist of the lips more bitter +than the words. + +But she caught them up unflinching. "Yes, and for his. We've set +out to save him, you and I. And--we are not going to turn back. +Burke, I ask you to help me--I implore you to help me--in this +thing. You didn't refuse before." + +"I wish to Heaven I had!" he said, "I might have known how it would +end!" + +"No--no! And you owe him your life too. Don't forget that! He +saved you. Are you going to let him sink--after that?" She reached +up and held him by the shoulders, imploring him with all her soul. +"You can't do it! Oh, you can't do it!" she said. "It isn't--you." + +He looked at her with a certain doggedness. "Not your conception +of me perhaps," he said, and suddenly his arms closed about her +quivering form. "But--am I--the sort of man you have always taken +me to be? Tell me! Am I?" + +She turned her face aside, hiding it against his shoulder. "I +know--what you can be," she said faintly. + +"Yes." Grimly he answered her. "You've seen the ugly side of me +at last, and it's that that you are up against now." He paused a +moment, then very sombrely he ended. "I might force you to tell me +the whole truth of this business, but I shall not--simply because I +don't want to hear it now. I know very well he's been making love +to you, tempting you. But I am going to put the infernal matter +away, and forget it--as far as possible. We may never reach the +top of the world now, but we'll get out of this vile slough at any +cost. You won't find me hard to live with if you only play the +game,--and put that damned scoundrel out of your mind for good." + +"And do you think I shall ever be able to forgive you?" She lifted +her head with an unexpectedness that was almost startling. Her +eyes were alight, burning with a ruddy fire out of the whiteness of +her face. She spoke as she had never spoken before. It was as if +some strange force had entered into and possessed her. "Do you +think I shall ever forget--even if you do? Perhaps I am not enough +to you now to count in that way. You think--perhaps--that a slave +is all you want, and that partnership, comradeship, friendship, +doesn't count. You are willing to sacrifice all that now, and to +sacrifice him with it. But how will it be--afterwards? Will a +slave be any comfort to you when things go wrong--as they surely +will? Will it satisfy you to feel that my body is yours when my +soul is so utterly out of sympathy, out of touch, that I shall be +in spirit a complete stranger to you? Ah yes," her voice rang on a +deep note of conviction that could not be restrained--"you think +you won't care. But you will--you will. A time will come when you +will feel you would gladly give everything you possess to undo what +you are doing to-day. You will be sick at heart, lonely, +disillusioned, suspicious of me and of everybody. You will see the +horrible emptiness of it all, and you will yearn for better things. +But it will be too late then. What once we fling away never comes +again to us. We shall be too far apart by that time, too +hopelessly estranged, ever to be more to each other than what we +are at this moment--master and slave. Through all our lives we +shall never be more than that." + +She ceased to speak, and the fire went out of her eyes. She +drooped in his hold as if all her strength had gone from her. + +He turned and put her steadily down into the chair again. He had +heard her out without a sign of emotion, and he betrayed none then. +He did not speak a word. But his silence said more to her than +speech. It was as the beginning of a silence which was to last +between them for as long as they lived. + +She sank back exhausted with closed eyes. The struggle--that long, +fierce battle for Guy's soul--was over. And she had failed. Her +prayers had been in vain. All her desperate effort had been +fruitless, and nothing seemed to matter any more. She told herself +that she would never be able to pray again. Her faith had died in +the mortal combat. And there was nothing left to pray for. She +was tired to the very soul of her, tired unto death; but she knew +she would not die. For death was rest, and there could be no rest +for her until the days of her slavery were accomplished. The sand +of the desert would henceforth be her portion. The taste of it was +in her mouth. The desolation of it encompassed her spirit. + +Two scalding tears forced their way through her closed lids and ran +down her white cheeks. She did not stir to wipe them away. She +hoped he did not see them. They were the only tears she shed. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE SKELETON TREE + +"Ah, Mrs. Burke, and is it yourself that I see again? Sure, and +it's a very great pleasure!" Kelly, his face crimson with +embarrassment and good-will, took the hand Sylvia offered and held +it hard. "A very great pleasure!" he reiterated impressively, +before he let it go. + +She smiled at him as one smiles at a shy child. "Thank you, Mr. +Kelly," she said. + +"Ah, but you'll call me Donovan," he said persuasively, "the same +as everyone else! So you've come to Brennerstadt after all! And +is it the diamond ye're after?" + +She shook her head. They were standing on a balcony that led out +of the public smoking-room, an awning over their heads and the open +street at their feet. It was from the street that he had spied +her, and the sight of her piteous, white face with its deeply +shadowed eyes had gone straight to his impulsive Irish heart. +"No," she said. "We are not bothering about the diamond. I think +we shall probably start back to Ritzen to-night." + +"Ah now, ye might stay one day longer and try your luck," wheedled +the Irishman. "The Fates would be sure to favour ye. Where's +himself?" + +"I don't know." She spoke very wearily. "He left me here to rest. +But it's so dusty--and airless--and noisy." + +Kelly gave her a swift, keen look. "Come for a ride!" he said. + +"A ride!" She raised her heavy eyes with a momentary eagerness, but +it was gone instantly. "He--might not like me to go," she said. +"Besides, I haven't a horse." + +"That's soon remedied," said Kelly. "I've got a lamb of a horse to +carry ye. And he wouldn't care what ye did in my company. He +knows me. Leave him a note and come along! He'll understand. +It's a good gallop that ye're wanting. Come along and get it!" + +Kelly could be quite irresistible when he chose, and he had +evidently made up his mind to comfort the girl's forlornness so far +as in him lay. She yielded to him with the air of being too +indifferent to do otherwise. But Kelly had seen that moment's +eagerness, and he built on that. + +A quarter of an hour later they met again in the sweltering street, +and he complimented her in true Irish fashion upon the rose-flush +in her cheeks. He saw that she looked about uneasily as she +mounted, but with unusual tact he omitted to comment upon the fact. + +The sun was slanting towards the west as they rode away. The +streets were crowded, but Kelly knew all the short cuts, and guided +her unerringly till they reached the edge of the open _veldt_. + +Then, "Come along!" he cried. "Let's gallop!" + +The sand flew out behind them, the parched air rushed by, and the +blood quickened in Sylvia's veins. She felt as if she had left an +overwhelming burden behind her in the town. The great open spaces +drew her with their freedom and their vastness. She went with the +flight of a bird. It was like the awakening from a dreadful dream. + +They drew rein in the shadow of a tall _kopje_ that rose abruptly +from the plain like a guardian of the solitudes. Kelly was +laughing with a boy's hearty merriment. + +"Faith, but ye can ride!" he cried, with keen appreciation, "Never +saw a prettier spectacle in me life. Was it born in the saddle ye +were?" + +She laughed in answer, but her heart gave a quick throb of pain. +It was the first real twinge of homesickness she had known, and for +a moment it was almost intolerable. Ah, the fresh-turned earth and +the shining furrows, and the sweet spring rain in her face! And +the sun of the early morning that shone through a scud of clouds! + +"My father and I used to ride to hounds," she said. "We loved it." + +"I've done it meself in the old country," said Kelly. "But ye can +ride farther here. There's more room before ye reach the horizon." + +Sylvia stifled a quick sigh. "Yes, it's a fine country. At least +it ought to be. Yet I sometimes feel as if there is something +lacking. I don't know quite what it is, but it's the quality that +makes one feel at home." + +"That'll come," said Kelly, with confidence. "You wait till the +spring! That gets into your veins like wine. Ye'll feel the magic +of it then. It's life itself." + +Sylvia turned her face up to the brazen sky. "I must wait for the +spring then," she said, half to herself. And then very suddenly +she became aware of the kindly curiosity of her companion's survey +and met it with a slight heightening of colour. + +There was a brief silence before, in a low voice, she said, "We +can't--all of us--afford to wait." + +"You can," said Kelly promptly. + +She shook her head. "I don't think by the time the spring comes +that there will be much left worth having." + +"Ah, but ye don't know," said Kelly. "You say that because you +can't see all the flowers that are hiding down below. But you +might as well believe in 'em all the same, for they're there all +right, and they'll come up quick enough when God gives the word." + +Sylvia looked around her over the barren land. "Are there flowers +here?" she said. + +"Millions," said Kelly. "Millions and millions. Why, if you were +to come along here in a few weeks' time ye'd be trampling them +underfoot they'd be so thick, such flowers as only grow here, on +the top of the world." + +"The top of the world!" She looked at him as if startled. "Is that +what you call--this place?" + +He laughed. "Ye don't believe me! Well, wait--wait and see!" + +She turned her horse's head, and began to walk round the _kopje_. +Kelly kept pace beside her. He was not quite so talkative as +usual, but it was with obvious effort that he restrained himself, +for several times words sprang to his eager lips which he swallowed +unuttered. He seemed determined that the next choice of a subject +should be hers. + +And after a few moments he was rewarded. Sylvia spoke. + +"Mr. Kelly!" + +"Sure, at your service--now and always!" he responded with a warmth +that no amount of self-restraint could conceal. + +She turned towards him. "You have been very kind to me, and I +want--I should like--to tell you something. But it's something +very, very private. Will you--will you promise me----" + +"Sure and I will!" vowed the Irishman instantly. "I'll swear the +solemn oath if it'll make ye any happier." + +"No, you needn't do that." She held out her hand to him with a +gesture that was girlishly impulsive. "I know I can trust you. +And I feel you will understand. It's about--Guy." + +"Ah, there now! Didn't I know it?" said Kelly. He held her hand +tight for a moment, looking into her eyes, his own brimful of +sympathy. + +"Yes. You know--all about him." She spoke with some hesitation +notwithstanding. "You know---just as I do--that he isn't--isn't +really bad; only--only so hopelessly weak." + +There was a little quiver in her voice as she said the words. She +looked at him with appeal in her eyes. + +"I know," said Kelly. + +With a slight effort she went on. "He--Burke--thinks otherwise. +And because of that, he won't let me see Guy again. He is very +angry with me--I doubt if he will ever really forgive me--for +following Guy to this place. But,--Mr. Kelly,--I had a reason--an +urgent reason for doing this. I hoped to be back again before he +found out; but everything was against me." + +"Ah! Didn't I know it?" said Kelly. "It's the way of the world in +an emergency. Nothing ever goes right of itself." + +She smiled rather wanly. "Life can be--rather cruel," she said. +"Something is working against me. I can feel it. I have forfeited +all Burke's respect and his confidence at a stroke. He will never +trust me again. And Guy--Guy will simply go under." + +"No--no!" said Kelly. "Don't you believe it! He'll come round and +lead a decent life after this; you'll see. There's nothing +whatever to worry about over Guy. No real vice in him!" + +It was a kindly lie, stoutly spoken; but it failed to convince. +Sylvia shook her head even while, he was speaking. + +"You don't know all yet. I haven't told you. But I will tell +you--if you will listen. Once when Burke and I were talking of +Guy--it was almost the first time--he said that he had done almost +everything bad except one thing. He had never robbed him. And +somehow I felt that so long as there was that one great exception +he would not regard him as utterly beyond redemption. But now--but +now--" her voice quivered again--"well, even that can't be said of +him now," she said. + +"What? He has taken money?" Kelly looked at her in swift dismay. +"Ye don't mean that!" he said. And then quickly: "Are ye sure now +it wasn't Kieff?" + +"Yes." She spoke with dreary conviction. "I am fairly sure +Kieff's at the back of it, but--it was Guy who did it, thanks to my +carelessness." + +"Yours!" Kelly's eyes bulged. "Ye don't mean that!" he said again. + +"Yes, it's true." Drearily she answered him. "Burke left the key +of the strong-box in my keeping on the day of the sand-storm. I +dropped it in the dark. I was hunting for it when you came. +Then--I forgot it. Afterwards, you remember, Burke and Guy came in +together. He must have found it--somehow--then." + +"He did!" said Kelly suddenly. "Faith, he did! Ye remember when +he had that attack? He picked up something then--on the floor +against his foot. I saw him do it, the fool that I am! He'd got +it in his hand when we helped him up, and I never noticed,--never +thought. The artful young devil!" + +A hint of admiration sounded in his voice. Kelly the simple-minded +had ever been an admirer of art. + +Sylvia went on very wearily. "The box was kept in a cupboard in +the room he was sleeping in. The rest was quite easy. He left the +key behind him in the lock. I found it after you and Burke had +gone to the Merstons'. I guessed what had happened of course. I +went round to his hut, but it was all fastened up as usual. Then I +went to Piet Vreiboom's." She shuddered suddenly. "I saw Kieff as +well as Vreiboom. They seemed hugely amused at my appearance, and +told me Guy was just ahead on the way to Brennerstadt. It was too +late to ride the whole way, so I went to Ritzen, hoping to find him +there. But I could get no news of him, so I came on by train in +the morning. I ought to have got here long ago, but the engine +broke down. We were held up for hours, and so I arrived--too late." + +The utter dreariness of her speech went straight to Kelly's heart. +"Ah, there now--there now!" he said. "If I'd only known I'd have +followed and helped ye that night." + +"You see, I didn't know you were coming back," she said. "And +anyhow I couldn't have waited. I had to start at once. It was--my +job." She smiled faintly, a smile that was sadder than tears. + +"And do ye know what happened?" said Kelly. "Did Burke tell ye +what happened?" + +She shook her head. "No. He told me very little. I suppose he +concluded that we had run away together." + +"Ah no! That wasn't his doing," said Kelly, paused a moment, then +plunged valiantly at the truth. "That was mine. I thought so +meself--foul swine as ye may very well call me. Kieff told me +so--the liar; and I--like a blasted fool--believed it. At least, +no, I didn't right at the heart of me, Mrs. Ranger. I knew what ye +were, just the same as I know now. But I'd seen ye look into his +eyes when ye begged him off the brandy-bottle, and I knew the +friendship between ye wasn't just the ordinary style of thing; no +more is it. But it was that devil Kieff that threw the mud. I +found him waiting that night when I got back. He was waiting for +Burke, he said; and his story was that he and Vreiboom had seen the +pair of ye eloping. I nearly murdered him at the time. Faith, I +wish I had!" ended Kelly pathetically, with tears in his eyes. "It +would have stopped a deal of mischief both now and hereafter." + +"Never mind!" said Sylvia gently. "You couldn't tell. You hadn't +known me more than a few hours." + +"It was long enough!" vowed Kelly. "Anyway, Burke ought to have +known better. He's known you longer than that." + +"He has never known me," she said quietly. "Of course he believed +the story." + +"He doesn't believe it now," said Kelly quickly. + +A little quiver went over her face. "Perhaps not. I don't know +what he believes, or what he will believe when he finds the money +gone. That is what I want to prevent--if only I can prevent it. +It is Guy's only chance. What he did was done wickedly enough, but +it was at a time of great excitement, when he was not altogether +master of himself. But unless it can be undone, he will go right +down--and never come up again. Oh, don't you see--" a sudden throb +sounded in her tired voice--"that if once Burke knows of this, +Guy's fate is sealed? There is no one else to help him. +Besides,--it wasn't all his own doing. It was Kieff's. And away +from Kieff, he is so different." + +"Ah! But how to get him away from Kieff!" said Kelly. "The +fellow's such a damn' blackguard. Once he takes hold, he never +lets go till he's got his victim sucked dry." + +Sylvia shuddered. "Can't you do anything?" she said. + +Kelly looked at her with his honest kindly eyes, "If it were me, +Mrs. Ranger," he said, "I should tell me husband the whole +truth--and--let him deal with it." + +She shook her head instantly. "It would be the end of everything +for Guy. Even if Burke let him off, he could never come back to +us. It would be as bad as sending him to prison--or even worse." + +"Not it!" said Kelly. "You don't trust Burke. It's a pity. He's +such a fine chap. But look here, I'll do me best, I'll get hold of +young Guy and make him disgorge. How much did the young ruffian +take?" + +"I don't know. That's the hopeless part of it. That is why I must +see him myself." + +Kelly pursed his lips for a moment, but the next he smiled upon +her, "All right. I'll manage somehow. But you mustn't go +to-night. You tell Burke you're too tired. He'll understand." + +"Do you know where Guy is?" she said. + +"Oh yes, I can put me hand on the young divil if I want him. You +leave that to me! I'll do me best all round. Now--suppose we have +another trot, and then go back!" + +Sylvia turned her horse's head. "I'm--deeply grateful to you, Mr. +Kelly," she said. + +"Donovan!" insinuated Kelly. + +She smiled a little. She seemed almost more piteous to him when +she smiled. "Donovan," she said. + +"Ah, that's better!" he declared. "That does me good. To be a +friend of both of ye is what I want. Burke and you together! +Ye're such a fine pair, and just made for each other, faith, made +for each other. When I saw you, Mrs. Burke, I didn't wonder that +he'd fallen in love at last. I give ye me word, I didn't. And +I'll never forget the look on his face when he thought he'd lost +ye; never as long as I live. It--it was as if he'd been stabbed to +the heart." + +Tactless, clumsy, sentimental, he sought to pour balm upon the +wounded spirit of this girl with her tragic eyes that should have +held only the glad sunshine of youth. It hurt him to see her thus, +hurt him unspeakably, and he knew himself powerless to comfort. +Yet with that odd womanly tenderness of his, he did his best. + +He wondered what she was thinking of as she sat her horse, gazing +out over the wide spaces, so wearily and yet so intently. She did +not seem to have heard his last remarks, or was that merely the +impression she desired to convey? A vague uneasiness took +possession of him. He did not like her to look like that. + +"Shall we move on?" he said gently. + +She pointed suddenly across the _veldt_. "I want to ride as far as +that skeleton tree," she said. "Don't come with me! I shall catch +you up if you ride slowly." + +"Right!" said Kelly, and watched her lift her bridle and ride away. + +He would have done anything to oblige her just then; but his +curiosity was whetted to a keen edge. For she rode swiftly, as one +who had a definite aim in view. Straight as an arrow across the +_veldt_ she went to the skeleton tree with its stripped trunk and +stark, outflung arms that seemed the very incarnation of the +barrenness around. + +Here she checked her animal, and sat for a moment with closed eyes, +the evening sunlight pouring over her. Very strangely she was +trembling from head to foot, as if in the presence of a vision upon +which she dared not look. She had returned as she had always meant +to return--but ah, the dreary desert spaces and the cruel roughness +of the road! Her husband's words uttered only a few hours before +came back upon her as she stood there. "We may never reach the top +of the world now," No, they would never reach it. Had anyone ever +done so, she wondered drearily? But yet they had been near it +once--nearer than many. Did that count for nothing? + +It seemed to her that aeons had passed over her since last she had +stood beneath that tree. She had been a girl then, ardent and full +of courage. Now she was a woman, old and very tired, and there was +nothing left in life. It was almost as if she had ceased to live. + +But yet she had come back to the starting-point, and here, as if +standing beside a grave and reading the inscription to one long +dead, she opened her eyes in the last glow of the sunshine to read +the words which Burke had cut into the bare wood on the evening of +his wedding-day. She remembered how she had waited for him, the +tumult of doubt, of misgiving, in her soul, how she had wished he +would not linger in that desolate place. Now, out of the midst of +a desolation to which this sandy waste was as nothing, she searched +with almost a feeling of awe as one about to read a message from +the dead. + +The bare, bleached trunk of the tree shone strangely in the sinking +sun, faintly tinted with rose. The world all around her was +changing; slowly, imperceptibly, changing. A tender lilac glow was +creeping over the _veldt_. A curious sensation came upon Sylvia, +as if she were moving in a dream, as if she were stepping into a +new world and the old had fallen from her. The bitterness had +lifted from her spirit. Her heart beat faster. She was a +treasure-seeker on the verge of a great discovery. Trembling, she +lifted her eyes. . . . + +There on the smooth wood, like a scroll upon a marble pillar, were +words, rough-hewn but unmistakable--_Fide et Amore_. . . . + +It was as if a voice had spoken in her soul, a dear, insistent +voice, bidding her begone. She obeyed, scarcely knowing what she +did. Back across the dusty _veldt_ she rode, moving as one in a +trance. She joined the Irishman waiting for her, but she looked at +him with eyes that saw not. + +"Well?" he said, frankly curious. "Did you find anything?" + +She started a little, and came out of her dream. "I found what I +was looking for," she said. + +"What was it?" Kelly was keenly interested; there was no checking +him now, he was like a hound on the scent. + +She did not resent his questions. That was Kelly's privilege. But +neither did she answer him as fully as he could have wished. "I +found out," she said slowly, after a moment, "how to get to the top +of the world." + +"Ah, really now!" said Kelly, opening his eyes to their widest +extent. "And are ye going to pack your bag and go?" + +She smiled very faintly, looking, straight before her. "No. It's +too late now," she said. "I've missed the way. So has Burke." + +"But ye'll try again--ye'll try again!" urged Kelly, eager as a +child for the happy ending of a fairy-tale. + +She shook her head. Her lips were quivering, but still she made +them smile. "Not that way. I am afraid it's barred," she said, +and with the words she touched her horse with her heel and rode +quickly forward towards the town. + +Donovan followed her with a rueful countenance. There were times +when even he felt discouraged with the world. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE PUNISHMENT + +"Good evening, Mrs. Ranger!" + +Sylvia started at the sound of a cool, detached voice as she +re-entered the hotel. Two eyes, black as onyx and as +expressionless, looked coldly into hers. A chill shudder ran +through her. She glanced instinctively back at Kelly, who came +forward instantly in his bulky, protective fashion. + +"Hullo, Kieff! What are you doing here? Gambling for the diamond?" + +"I?" said Kieff, with a stretching of his thin, colourless lips +that was scarcely a smile. "I don't gamble for diamonds, my good +Kelly. Well, Mrs. Ranger, I hope you had a pleasant journey here." + +"He gambles for souls," was the thought in Sylvia's mind, as with a +quick effort she controlled herself and passed on in icy silence. +She would never voluntarily speak to Kieff again. He was an open +enemy; and she turned from him with the same loathing that she +would have shown for a reptile in her path. + +His laugh--that horrible, slippery sound--followed her. He said +something in Dutch to the man who lounged beside him, and at once +another laugh--Piet Vreiboom's--bellowed forth like the blare of a +bull. She flinched in spite of herself. Every nerve shrank. Yet +the next moment, superbly, she wheeled and faced them. There was +something intolerable in that laughter, something that stung her +beyond endurance. + +"Tell me," she commanded Kelly, "tell me what +these--gentlemen--find about me to laugh at!" + +Her face was white as death, but her eyes shone red as leaping +flame. She was terrible in that moment--terrible as a lioness at +bay--and the laughter died. Piet Vreiboom slunk a little back, his +low brows working uneasily. + +Kelly swallowed an oath in his throat; his hands were clenched. +But Kieff, in a voice smooth as oil, made ready, mocking answer. + +"Oh, not at you, madam! Heaven forbid! What could any man find to +smile at in such a model of virtuous propriety as yourself?" + +He was baiting her openly, and she knew it. An awful wave of anger +surged through her brain, such anger as had never before possessed +her. For the moment she felt sick, as if she had drunk of some +overpowering drug. He meant to humiliate her publicly. She +realized it in a flash. And she was powerless to prevent it. +Whether she went or whether she stayed, he would accomplish his +end. Among all the strange faces that stared at her, only Kelly's, +worried and perplexed, betrayed the smallest concern upon her +account. And he, since her unexpected action, had been obviously +at a loss as to how to deal with the situation or with her. +Single-handed, he would have faced the pack; but with her at his +side he was hopelessly hampered, afraid of blundering and making +matters worse. + +"Ah, come away!" he muttered to her. "It's not the place for ye at +all. They're hogs and swine, the lot of 'em. Don't ye be drawn by +the likes of them!" + +But she stood her ground, for there was hot blood in Sylvia and a +fierce pride that would not tamely suffer outrage. Moreover, she +had been wounded cruelly, and the desire for vengeance welled up +furiously within her. Now that she stood in the presence of her +enemy, the impulse to strike back, however futile the blow, urged +her and would not be denied. + +She confronted Saul Kieff with tense determination. "You will +either repeat--and explain--what you said to your friend regarding +me just now," she said, in tones that rang fearlessly, echoing +through the crowded place, "or you will admit yourself a +contemptible coward for vilely slandering a woman whom you know to +be defenceless!" + +It was regally spoken. She stood splendidly erect, facing him, +withering him from head to foot with the scorching fire of her +scorn. A murmur of sympathy went through the rough crowd of men +gathered before her. One or two cursed Kieff in a growling +undertone. But Kieff himself remained absolutely unmoved. He was +smoking a cigarette and he inhaled several deep breaths before he +replied to her challenge. Then, with his basilisk eyes fixed +immovably upon her, as it were clinging to her, he made his deadly +answer: "I will certainly tell you what I said, madam, since you +desire it. But the explanation is one which surely only you can +give. I said to my friend, 'There goes the wife of the Rangers.' +Did I make a mistake?" + +"Yes, you damned hound, you did!" The voice that uttered the words +came from the door that led into the office. Burke Ranger swung +suddenly out upon them, moving with a kind of massive force that +carried purpose in every line. Men drew themselves together as he +passed them with the instinctive impulse to leave his progress +unimpeded; for this man would have forced his way past every +obstacle at that moment. He went straight for his objective +without a glance to right or left. + +Sylvia started back at his coming. That which her enemy could not +do was accomplished by her husband by neither word nor look. The +regal poise went out of her bearing. She shrank against Kelly as +if seeking refuge. For she had seen Burke's eyes, as she had seen +them the night before; and they were glittering with the lust for +blood. They were the eyes of a murderer. + +Straight to Kieff he came, and Kieff waited for him, quite +motionless, with thin lips drawn back, showing a snarling gleam of +teeth. But just as Burke reached him he moved. His right arm shot +forth with a serpentine ferocity, and in a flash the muzzle of a +revolver gleamed between them. + +"Hands up, if you please, Mr. Ranger!" he said smoothly. "We shall +talk better that way." + +But for once in his life he had made a miscalculation, and the next +instant he realized it. He had reckoned without the blunderer +Kelly. For a fierce oath broke from the Irishman at sight of the +weapon, and in the same second he beat it down with the stock of +his riding-whip with a force that struck it out of Kieff's grasp. +It spun along the floor to Sylvia's feet, and she stooped and +snatched it up. + +Burke did not so much as glance round. He had Kieff by the collar +of his coat, and the fate of the revolver was obviously a matter of +no importance to him. "Give me that horse-whip of yours, Donovan!" +he said, + +Kelly complied with the childlike obedience he invariably yielded +to Burke. Then he fell back to Sylvia, and very gently took the +revolver out of her clenched hand. + +She looked at him, her eyes wide, terror-stricken. "He will kill +him!" she said, in a voiceless whisper. + +"Not a bit of it," said Kelly, and put his arm around her. "These +poisonous vermin don't die so easy. Pity they don't." + +And then began the most terrible scene that Sylvia had ever looked +upon. No one intervened between Burke and his victim. There was +even a look of brutal satisfaction upon some of the faces around. +Piet Vreiboom openly gloated, as if he were gazing upon a spectacle +of rare delight. + +And Burke thrashed Kieff, thrashed him with all the weight of his +manhood's strength, forced him staggering up and down the open +space that had been cleared for that awful reckoning, making a +public show of him, displaying him to every man present as a +crawling, contemptible thing that not one of them would have owned +as friend. It was a ghastly chastisement, made deadly by the +hatred that backed it. Kieff writhed this way and that, but he +never escaped the swinging blows. They followed him +mercilessly,--all the more mercilessly for his struggles. His coat +tore out at the seams and was ripped to rags. And still Burke +thrashed him, his face grim and terrible and his eyes shot red and +gleaming--as the eyes of a murderer. + +In the end Kieff stumbled and pitched forward upon his knees, his +arms sprawling helplessly out before him. It was characteristic of +the man that he had not uttered a sound; only as Burke stayed his +hand his breathing came with a whistling noise through the tense +silence, as of a wounded animal brought to earth. His face was +grey. + +Burke held him so for a few seconds, then deliberately dropped the +horse-whip and grasped him with both hands, lifting him. Kieff's +head was sunk forward. He looked as if he would faint. But +inexorably Burke dragged him to his feet and turned him till he +stood before Sylvia. + +She was leaning against Kelly with her hands over her face. +Relentlessly Burke's voice broke the silence. + +"Now," he said briefly, "you will apologize to my wife for +insulting her." + +She uncovered her face and raised it. There was shrinking horror +in her look. "Oh, Burke!" she said. "Let him go!" + +"You will--apologize," Burke said again very insistently, with +pitiless distinctness. + +There was a dreadful pause. Kieff's breathing was less laboured, +but it was painfully uneven and broken. His lips twitched +convulsively. They seemed to be trying to form words, but no words +came. + +Burke waited, and several seconds dragged away. Then suddenly from +the door of the office the girl who had received Sylvia the +previous evening emerged. + +She carried a glass. "Here you are!" she said curtly. "Give him +this!" + +There was neither pity nor horror in her look. Her eyes dwelt upon +Burke with undisguised admiration. + +"You've given him a good dose this time," she remarked. "Serve him +right--the dirty hound! Hope it'll be a lesson to the rest of +'em," and she shot a glance at Piet Vreiboom which was more +eloquent than words. + +She held the glass to Kieff's lips with a contemptuous air, and +when he had drunk she emptied the dregs upon the floor and marched +back into the office. + +"Now," Burke said again, "you will apologize." + +And so at last in a voice so low as to be barely audible, Saul +Kieff, from whose sneer all women shrank as from the sting of a +scorpion, made unreserved apology to the girl he had plotted to +ruin. At Burke's behest he withdrew the vile calumny he had +launched against her, and he expressed his formal regret for the +malice that had prompted it. + +When Burke let him go, no one attempted to offer him help. There +was probably not a man present from whom he would have accepted it. +He slunk away like a wounded beast, staggering, but obviously +intent upon escape, and the gathering shadows of the coming night +received him. + +A murmur as of relief ran round the circle of spectators he left +behind, and in a moment, as it were automatically, the general +attention was turned upon Sylvia. She was still leaning against +Kelly, her death-white face fixed and rigid. Her eyes were closed. + +Burke went to her. "Come!" he said. "We will go up." + +Her eyes opened. She looked straight at him, seeing none beside. +"Was that how you treated Guy?" she said. + +He laid an imperative hand upon her. "Come!" he said again. + +She made a movement as though to evade him, and then suddenly she +faltered. Her eyes grew wide and dark. She threw out her hands +with a groping gesture as if stricken blind, and fell straight +forward. + +Burke caught her, held her for a moment; then as she sank in his +arms he lifted her, and bore her away. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE EVIL THING + +When Sylvia opened her eyes again she was lying in the chair by the +open window where she had waited so long the previous evening. Her +first impression was that she was alone, and then with a sudden +stabbing sense of fear she realized Burke's presence. + +He was standing slightly behind her, so that the air might reach +her, but leaning forward, watching her intently. With a gasp she +looked up into his eyes. + +He put his hand instantly upon her, reassuring her. "All right. +It's all right," he said. + +Both tone and touch were absolutely gentle, but she shrank from +him, shrank and quivered with a nervous repugnance that she was +powerless to control. He took his hand away and turned aside. + +She spoke then, her voice quick and agitated. "Don't go! Please +don't go!" + +He came and stood in front of her, and she saw that his face was +grim. "What is the matter?" he said. "Surely you don't object to +a serpent like that getting his deserts for once!" + +She met his look with an effort. "Oh, it's not that--not that!" +she said. + +"What then? You object to me being the executioner?" He spoke +curtly, through lips that had a faintly cynical twist. + +She could not answer him; only after a moment she sat up, holding +to the arms of the chair. "Forgive me for being foolish!" she +said. "I--you gave me--rather a fright, you know. I've never seen +you--like that before. I felt--it was a horrible feeling--as if +you were a stranger. But--of course--you are you--just the same. +You are--really--you." + +She faltered over the words, his look was so stern, so forbidding. +She seemed to be trying to convince herself against her own +judgment. + +His eyes met hers relentlessly. "Yes, I am myself--and no one +else," he said. "I fancy you have never quite realized me before. +Possibly you have deliberately blinded yourself. But you know me +now, and it is as well that you should. It is the only way to an +ultimate understanding." + +She blenched a little in spite of herself. "And you--and +you--once--thrashed--Guy," she said, her voice very low, sunk +almost to a whisper. "Was it--was it--was it like--that?" + +He turned sharply away as if there were something intolerable in +the question. He went to the window and stood there in silence. +And very oddly at that moment the memory of Kelly's assurance went +through her that he had been fond of Guy. She did not believe it, +yet just for the moment it influenced her. It gave her strength. +She got up, and went to his side. + +"Burke," she said tremulously, "promise me--please promise me--that +you will never do that again!" + +He gave her a brief, piercing glance. "If he keeps out of my way, +I shan't run after him," he said. + +"No--no! But even if he doesn't--" she clasped her hands hard +together--"Burke, even if he doesn't--and even though he has +disappointed you--wronged you--oh, have you no pity? Can't +you--possibly--forgive?" + +He turned abruptly and faced her. "Forgive him for making love to +you?" he said. "Is that what you are asking?" + +She shivered at the question. "At least you won't--punish him like +that--whatever he has done," she said. + +He was looking full at her. "You want my promise on that?" he said. + +"Yes, oh yes." Very earnestly she made reply though his eyes were +as points of steel, keeping her back. "I know you will keep a +promise. Please--promise me that!" + +"Yes," he said drily. "I keep my promises. He can testify to +that. So can you. But if I promise you this, you must make me a +promise too." + +"What is it?" she said. + +"Simply that you will never have anything more to do with him +without my knowledge--and consent." He uttered the words with the +same pitiless distinctness as had characterized his speech when +dictating to Kieff. + +She drew sharply. "Oh, but why--why ask such a promise of me when +you have only just proved your own belief in me?" + +"How have I done that?" he said. + +"By taking my part before all those horrible men downstairs." She +suppressed a hard shudder. "By--defending my honour." + +Burke's face remained immovable. "I was defending my own," he +said. "I should have done that--in any case." + +She made a little hopeless movement with her hands and dropped them +to her sides. "Oh, how hard you are!" she said, "How hard--and how +cruel!" + +He lifted his shoulders slightly, and turned away in silence. +Perhaps there was more of forbearance in that silence than she +realized. + +He did not ask her where she had been with Kelly or comment upon +the fact that she had been out at all. Only after a brief pause he +told her that they would not leave till the following day as he had +some business to attend to. Then to her relief he left her. At +least he had promised that he would not go in search of Guy! + +Later in the evening, a small packet was brought to her which she +found to contain some money in notes wrapped in a slip of paper on +which was scrawled a few words. + +"I have done my best with young G., but he is rather out of hand +for the present. I enclose the 'loan.' Just put it back, and +don't worry any more. Yours, D. K." + +She put the packet away with a great relief at her heart. That +danger then, had been averted. There yet remained a chance for +Guy. He was not--still he was not--quite beyond redemption. If +only--ah, if only--she could have gone to Burke with the whole +story! But Burke had become a stranger to her. She had begun to +wonder if she had ever really known him. His implacability +frightened her almost more than his terrible vindictiveness. She +felt that she could never again turn to him with confidence. + +That silence that lay between them was like an ever-widening gulf +severing them ever more and more completely. She believed that +they would remain strangers for the rest of their lives. Very +curiously, those three words which she had read upon the tree +served to strengthen this conviction. They were, indeed, to her as +a message from the dead. The man who had written them had ceased +to exist. Guy might have written them in the old days, but his +likeness to Guy was no more. She saw them both now with a +distinctness that was almost cruel--the utter weakness of the one, +the merciless strength of the other. And in the bitterness of her +soul she marvelled that either of them had ever managed to reach +her heart. + +That could never be so again, so she told herself. The power to +love had been wrested from her. The object of her love had turned +into a monstrous demon of jealousy from which now she shrank more +and more--though she might never escape. Yes, she had loved them +both, and still her compassion lingered pitifully around the +thought of Guy. But for Burke she had only a shrinking that almost +amounted to aversion. He had slain her love. She even believed +she was beginning to hate him. + +She dreaded the prospect of another long day spent at Brennerstadt. +It was the day of the diamond draw, too. The place would be a +seething tumult. She was so unutterably tired. She thought with a +weary longing of Blue Hill Farm. At least she would find a measure +of peace there, though healing were denied her. This place had +become hateful to her, an inferno of vice and destruction. She +yearned to leave it. + +Something of this yearning she betrayed on the following morning +when Burke told her that he was making arrangements to leave by the +evening train for Ritzen. + +"Can't we go sooner?" she said. + +He looked at her as if surprised by the question. "There is a +train at midday," he said. "But it is not a good time for +travelling." + +"Oh, let us take it!" she said feverishly. "Please let us take it! +We might get back to the farm by to-night then." + +He had sent his horse back to Ritzen the previous day in the care +of a man he knew, so that both their animals would be waiting for +them. + +"Do you want to get back?" said Burke. + +"Oh, yes--yes! Anything is better than this." She spoke rapidly, +almost passionately. "Let us go! Do let us go!" + +"Very well," said Burke. "If you wish it." + +He paused at the door of the office a few minutes later, when they +descended, to tell the girl there that they were leaving at noon. + +She looked up at him sharply as he stood looking in. "Heard the +latest?" she asked. + +"What is the latest?" questioned Burke. + +"That dirty dog you thrashed last night--Kieff; he's dead," she +told him briefly. "Killed himself with an overdose of opium, died +at Hoffstein's early this morning." She glanced beyond him at +Sylvia who stood behind. "And a good job, too," she said +vindictively. "He's ruined more people in this town than I'd like +to be responsible for--the filthy parasite. He was the curse of +the place." + +Burke turned with a movement that was very deliberate. He also +looked at Sylvia. For a long moment they stood so, in the man's +eyes a growing hardness, in the woman's a horror undisguised. +Then, with a very curious smile, Burke put his hand through his +wife's arm and turned her towards the room where breakfast awaited +them. + +"Come and have something to eat, partner!" he said, his voice very +level and emotionless. + +She went with him without a word; but her whole being throbbed and +quivered under his touch as if it were torture to her. Stark and +hideous, the evil thing reared itself in her path, and there was no +turning aside. She saw him, as she had seen him on the night of +her arrival, as she had seen him the night after, as she believed +that she would always see him for the rest of her life. And the +eyes that looked into hers--those eyes that had held her, dominated +her, charmed her--were the eyes of a murderer. Go where she would, +there could be no escape for her for ever. The evil thing had her +enchained. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE LAND OF BLASTED HOPES + +They were still at breakfast when Kelly came dashing in full of the +news of the death of Kieff. No one knew whether it had been +accidental or intentional, but he spoke--as the girl in the office +had spoken--as if a curse had been lifted from the town. And +Sylvia sat at the table and listened, feeling as if her heart had +been turned to ice. The man had died by his own hand, but she +could not shake from her the feeling that she and Burke had been +the cause of his death. + +She saw Kelly for a few minutes alone when the meal was over, and +whispered her thanks to him for what he had done with regard to +Guy. He would scarcely listen to her, declaring it had been a +pleasure to serve her, that it had been the easiest thing in the +world, and that now it was done she must not worry any more. + +"But was it really easy?" she questioned. + +"Yes--yes! He was glad enough of the chance to give it back. He +only acted on impulse, ye see, and Kieff was pushing behind. He'd +never have done it but for Kieff. Very likely he'll pull round now +and lead a respectable life," said Kelly cheerily. "He's got the +stuff in him, ye know, if he'd only let it grow." + +She smiled wanly at his optimism. "Oh, do beg him to try!" she +said. + +"I'll do me best," promised Kelly. "Anyway, don't you worry! It's +a sheer waste of time and never helped anybody yet." + +His cheerful attitude helped her, small as was her hope for Guy's +reformation. Moreover, she knew that Kelly would keep his word. +He would certainly do his best for Guy. + +He took his leave of her almost immediately, declaring it was the +busiest day of his life, but assuring her that he would ride over +to Blue Hill Farm to see her on the earliest opportunity with the +greatest pleasure in the world. + +She asked him somewhat nervously at parting if the death of Kieff +were likely to hinder their return, but he laughed at the notion. +Why, of course not! Burke hadn't killed the man. Such affairs as +the one she had witnessed the night before were by no means unusual +in Brennerstadt. Besides, it was a clear case of opium poisoning, +and everyone had known that he would die of it sooner or later. It +was the greatest mercy he had, gone, and so she wasn't to worry +about that! No one would have any regrets for Kieff except the +people he had ruined. + +And so with wholesome words of reassurance he left her, and she +went to prepare for her journey. + +When Burke joined her again, they spoke only of casual things, +avoiding all mention of Guy or Kieff by tacit consent. He was very +considerate for her, making every possible provision for her +comfort, but his manner was aloof, almost forbidding. There was no +intimacy between them, no confidence, no comradeship. + +They reached Ritzen in the late afternoon. Burke suggested +spending the night there, but she urged him to continue the +journey. The heat of the day was over; there was no reason for +lingering. So they found their horses, and started on the long +ride home. + +They rode side by side along the dusty track through a barren waste +that made the eyes ache. A heavy stillness hung over the land, +making the loneliness seem more immense. They scarcely spoke at +all, and it came to Sylvia that they were stranger to each other +now than they had been on that day at the very beginning of their +acquaintance when he had first brought her to Blue Hill Farm. She +felt herself to be even more of an alien in this land of cruel +desolation than when first she had set foot in it. It was like a +vast prison, she thought drearily, while the grim, unfriendly +_kopjes_ were the sentinels that guarded her, and the far blue +mountains were a granite wall that none might pass. + +The sun was low in the sky when they reached the watercourse. It +was quite dry with white stones that looked like the skeletons of +the ages scattered along its bed. + +"Shall we rest for a few minutes?" said Burke. But she shook her +head. "No--no! Not here. It is getting late." + +So they crossed the _spruit_ and went on. + +The sun went down in an opalescent glow of mauve and pink and pearl +that spread far over the _veldt_, and she felt that the beauty of +it was almost more than she could bear. It hid so much that was +terrible and cruel. + +They came at length, when the light was nearly gone, to a branching +track that led to the Merstons' farm. + +Burke broke his silence again. "I must go over and see Merston in +the morning." + +She felt the warm colour flood her face. How much had the Merstons +heard? She murmured something in response, but she did not offer +to accompany him. + +A deep orange moon came up over the eastern hills and lighted the +last few miles of their journey, casting a strange amber radiance +around them, flinging mysterious shadows about the _kopjes_, +shedding an unearthly splendour upon the endless _veldt_. It +spread like an illimitable ocean in soundless billows out of which +weird rocks stood up--a dream-world of fantastic possibilities, but +petrified into stillness by the spell of its solitudes--a world +that once surely had thrilled with magic and now was dead. + +As they rode past the last _kopje_--her _kopje_ that she had never +yet climbed, they seemed to her to enter the innermost loneliness +of all, to reach the very heart of the desert. + +They arrived at Blue Hill Farm, and the sound of their horses' feet +brought the Kaffirs buzzing from their huts, but the clatter that +they made did not penetrate that great and desolate silence. The +spell remained untouched. + +Burke went with Joe to superintend the rubbing down and feeding of +their animals, and Sylvia entered the place alone. Though it was +exactly the same as when she had left it, she felt as if she were +entering a ruin. + +She went to her own room and washed away the dust of the journey. +The packet that Kelly had given her she locked away in her own box. +Burke might enter at any moment, and she did not dare to attempt to +open the strong-box then. She knew the money must be returned and +speedily; she would not rest until she had returned it. But she +could not risk detection at that moment. Her courage was worn down +with physical fatigue. She lacked the nerve. + +When Burke came in, he found her bringing in a hastily prepared +supper. He took the tray from her and made her sit down while he +waited upon her. Her weariness was too great to hide, and she +yielded without demur, lacking the strength to do otherwise. + +He made her eat and drink though she was almost too tired even for +that, and when the meal was done he would not suffer her to rest in +a chair but led her with a certain grim kindliness to the door of +her room. + +"Go to bed, child!" he said. "And stay there till you feel better!" + +She obeyed him, feeling that she had no choice, yet still too +anxious to sleep. He brought her a glass of hot milk when she was +in bed, remarking that her supper had been a poor one, and she +drank in feverish haste, yearning to be left alone. Then, when he +had gone, she tormented herself by wondering if he had noticed +anything strange in her manner, if he thought that she were going +to be ill and so would perhaps mount guard over her. + +A chafing sense of impotence came upon her. It would be terrible +to fail now after all she had undergone. She lay listening, +straining every nerve. He would be sure to smoke his pipe on the +_stoep_ before turning in. That was the opportunity that she must +seize. She dared not leave it till the morrow. He might ask for +the key of the strong-box at any time. But still she did not hear +him moving beyond the closed door, and she wondered if he could +have fallen asleep in the sitting-room. A heavy drowsiness was +beginning to creep over her notwithstanding her uneasiness. She +fought against it with all her strength, but it gained ground in +spite of her. Her brain felt clogged with weariness. + +She began to doze, waking with violent starts and listening, +drifting back to slumber ever more deeply, till at last actual +sleep possessed her, and for a space she lay in complete oblivion. + +It must have been a full hour later that she became suddenly +conscious again, with every faculty on the alert, and remembered +the task still unfulfilled. It was almost as if a voice--Guy's +voice--had called her, urging her to action. + +The room was full of moonlight, and she could see every object in +it as clearly as if it had been day. The precious packet was under +her pillow with the key of the strong-box. She felt for and +grasped them both almost instinctively before she looked round, and +then, on the verge of raising herself, her newly awakened eyes +lighted upon something which sent all the blood in a wild rush to +her heart. A man's figure was kneeling motionless at the foot of +the bed. + +She lay and gazed and gazed, hardly believing her senses, wondering +if the moonlight could have tricked her. He was so still, he might +have been a figure wrought in marble. His face was hidden on his +arms, but there was that in his attitude that sent a stab of wonder +through her. Was it--was it Guy kneeling there in an abandonment +of despair? Had he followed her like a wandering outcast now that +his master Kieff was gone? If so, but no--but no! Surely it was a +dream. Guy was far away. This was but the fantasy of her own +brain. Guy could never have come to her thus. And yet, was it not +Guy's voice that had called her from her sleep? + +A great quiver went through her. What if Guy had died in the night +far away in Brennerstadt? What if this were his spirit come to +hold commune with hers. Was she not dearer to him than anyone else +in the world? Would he not surely seek her before he passed on? + +Trembling, she raised herself at last and spoke his name. "Guy, is +that you? Dear Guy, speak to me!" + +She saw an answering tremor pass through the kneeling figure, but +the face remained hidden. The moonlight lay upon the dark head, +and she thought she saw streaks of white upon it. It was Guy in +the flesh then. It could be none other. A yearning tenderness +thrilled through her. He had come back--in spite of all his +sinning he had come back. And again through the years there came +to her the picture of the boy she had known and loved--ah, how +dearly! in the days of his innocence. It was so vivid that for the +moment it swept all else aside. Oh, if he would but move and show +her once more the sparkling eager face of his youth! She longed +with a passionate intensity for one glimpse, however fleeting, of +that which once had filled her heart with rapture. And in her +longing she herself was swept back for a few blind seconds into the +happy realms of girlhood. She forgot all the bitterness and the +sorrow of this land of strangers. She Stretched out her arms to +the golden-winged Romance that had taught her the ecstasy of first +love. + +"Oh, Guy--my own Guy--come to me!" she said. + +It moved then, moved suddenly, even convulsively, as a wounded man +might move. He lifted his head, and looked at her. + +Her dream passed like the rending of a veil. His eyes pierced her, +but she had to meet them, lacking power to do otherwise. + +So for a space they looked at one another in the moonlight, saying +no word, scarcely so much as breathing. + +Then, at last he got to his feet with the heavy movements of a +tired man, stood a while longer looking down at her, finally turned +in utter silence and left her. + +When Sylvia slept, many hours later, there came again to her for +the third and last time the awful dream of two horsemen who +galloped towards each other upon the same rocky path. She saw +again the shock of collision and the awful hurtling fall. She went +again down into the stony valley and searched for the man who she +knew was dead. She found him in a deep place that no other living +being had ever entered. He lay with his face upturned to the +moonlight, and his eyes wide and glassy gazing upwards. She drew +near, and stooped to close those eyes; but she could not. For they +gazed straight into her own. They pierced her soul with the mute +reproach of a silence that could never be broken again. + +She turned and went away through a devastating loneliness. She +knew now which of the two had galloped free and which had fallen, +and she went as one without hope or comfort, wandering through the +waste places of the earth. + +Late in the morning she awoke and looked out upon a world of +dreadful sunshine,--a parched and barren world that panted in vain +for the healing of rain. + +"It is a land of blasted hopes," she told herself drearily. +"Everything in it is doomed." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE PARTING + +Sylvia entered the sitting-room that day with the feeling of one +returning after a prolonged absence. She had been almost too tired +to notice her surroundings the previous night upon arrival. Her +limbs felt leaden still, but her brain was alive and throbbing with +a painful intensity. + +Mary Ann informed her that the big _baas_ was out on the lands, and +she received the news thankfully. Now was her chance! She took +it, feeling like a traitor. + +Once more she went to Burke's room. She opened the strong-box +stealthily, listening intently for every sound. She slipped the +packet of notes inside, and shut it again quickly with a queer +little twist of the heart as she caught sight of the envelope +containing the cigarette which once he had drawn from between her +lips. Then with a start she heard the sound of hoofs outside the +window, and she knew that Burke had returned. + +She hurried from the room with the key in her hand, meeting him in +the passage. He had his back to the light, but she thought he +looked very grim. The past weeks had aged and hardened him. She +wondered if they had wrought a similar change in her. + +He spoke to her at once, before she had time to formulate a +greeting. + +"Ah, here you are! Will you come in here? I want to speak to you." + +She went into the sitting-room with a curious feeling of +fatefulness that outweighed her embarrassment. There was no +intimacy in his speech, and that helped her also. She saw that he +would not touch upon that which had happened in the night. + +He gave her a critical look as he entered. "Are you rested? Have +you had breakfast?" + +She answered him nervously. "Yes, I am quite all right to-day. +Mary Ann brought me some breakfast in bed." + +He nodded, dismissing the matter. "I have been over to see +Merston. He is on his legs again, practically well. But she is +not feeling up to the mark. She wants to know if you will go over. +I told her I thought you would. But don't go if you would rather +not!" + +"Of course I will go," Sylvia said, "if I can do any good." + +And then she looked at him with a sudden curious doubt. Had this +suggestion originated with him. Did he feel, as she felt, that the +present state of affairs was intolerable? Or was he, for her sake +alone, offering her the only sanctuary in his power? + +His face told her nothing. She had not the faintest idea as to +whether he wished her to go or stay. But he accepted her decision +at once. + +"I will take you over in the cart this evening," he said. "I +thought you would probably wish to go. They are more or less +expecting you." + +His tone was practical, wholly free from emotion. But the wonder +still lingered in her mind. She spoke after a moment with slight +hesitation. + +"You--will be able to manage all right without me?" + +"I shall try," said Burke. + +There was no perceptible cynicism in his tone, yet she winced a +little, for in some fashion it hurt her. Again she wondered, would +it be a relief to him when she had gone? Ah, that terrible barrier +of silence! If she could but have passed it then! But she lacked +the strength. + +"Very well," she said, and turned away. "I will be ready." + +His voice arrested her at the door of her room. "May I have the +key of the strong-box?" + +She turned back. Her face was burning. He had taken her unawares. + +"I have it here," she said, and gave it to him with a hand that +shook uncontrollably. + +"Thank you," he said, and put it in his pocket. "I should take it +easy to-day if I were you. You need a rest." + +And that was all. He went out again into the blazing sunshine, and +a little later she heard him talking to Schafen as they crossed the +yard to the sheep-pens. + +She saw him again at the midday meal, but he ate in haste and +seemed preoccupied, departing again at the earliest moment +possible. Though he did not discuss the matter with her, she knew +that the cruel drought would become a catastrophe if it lasted much +longer. She prepared for departure with a heavy heart. + +He came in again to tea, but went to his room to change and only +emerged to swallow a hasty cup before they started. Then, indeed, +just at the last, as she rose to dress for the journey, she +attempted shyly to penetrate the armour in which he had clad +himself. + +"Are you sure you want me to go?" she said. + +He turned towards her, and for a moment her heart stood still. +"Don't you want to go?" he said. + +She did not answer the question. Somehow she could not. Neither +could she meet the direct gaze of the keen grey eyes upturned to +hers. + +"I feel almost as if I am deserting my post," she told him, with a +rather piteous smile. + +"Oh, you needn't feel that," he said quietly. "In any case you can +come back whenever you want to. You won't be far away." + +Not far away! Were they not poles asunder already--their +partnership dissolved as if it had never been,--their +good-fellowship--their friendship--crumbled to ashes? Her heart +was beating again quickly, unevenly. She knew that the way was +barred. + +"Well, send for me if you want me at any time!" she said, and +passed on to her room. + +There was no need and small opportunity for talk during the drive, +for Burke had his hands full with a pair of young horses who tried +to bolt upon every conceivable occasion that offered, and he had to +keep an iron control upon them throughout the journey. + +So at length they came to the Merstons' farm, and with a mingling +of relief and dissatisfaction Sylvia realized that any further +discussion was out of the question. + +Merston came out, full of jovial welcome, to meet them, and in a +moment she was glad that she had come. For she saw that he was +genuinely pleased to see her. + +"It's most awfully good of you to come," he said, as he helped her +down. "You've been having a strenuous time at Brennerstadt, I'm +told. I wondered if you were going in for Kelly's diamond that he +was so full of the other day. How the fellow did talk to be sure! +He's a walking advertisement. I should think he must have filled +Wilbraham's coffers for him. And you didn't hear who won it?" + +It was Burke who answered. "No, we didn't stop for that. We +wanted to get away." + +Merston looked at Sylvia. "And you left young Guy behind? It was +very sporting of you to go after him like that. Burke told me +about it. I blame myself that he wasn't on the spot to help. I +hope the journey wasn't very infernal?" + +He spoke with so kindly an interest that but for Burke's presence +she would have felt no embarrassment. He evidently thought that +she had acted with commendable courage. She answered him without +difficulty, though she could not restrain a quick flush at his +words. It was thus then that Burke had defended her honour--and +his own! + +"It wasn't a very nice Journey of course, but I managed it all +right. Mr. Kelly has promised to look after Guy." + +"He'll do it then," said Merston reassuringly. "He's a grand chap +is Kelly. A bit on the talkative side of course, but a real good +sort. Come in now! Come and see my wife! Burke, get down! You +must have a drink anyway before you start back." + +But Burke shook his head. "Thanks, old chap! I won't wait. I've +things to do, and it's getting late. If you can just get my wife's +baggage out, I'll be off." + +The last of the sunset light shone upon him as he sat there. +Looking back at him, Sylvia saw him, brown, muscular, firm as a +rock, and an odd little thrill went through her. There was a +species of rugged magnificence about him that moved her strangely. +The splendid physique of the man had never shown to fuller +advantage. Perhaps the glory of the sunset intensified the +impression, but he seemed to her great. + +Merston was dragging forth her belongings. She went to help him. +Burke kept his seat, the reins taut in his hands. + +Merston abruptly gripped him by the knee. "Look here, old boy! +You must have a drink! Wait where you are while I fetch it!" + +He was gone with the words, and they were left alone. Sylvia bent +over her suit-case, preparing to pick it up. A tumult of strange +emotion had swept over her. She was quivering all over. The +horses were stamping and chafing at their bits. He spoke to them +with a brief command and they stood still. + +Then, very suddenly, he spoke to her. "Good-bye!" he said. + +She lifted her face. He was smiling faintly, but his smile hurt +her inexplicably. It seemed to veil something that was tragic from +her eyes. + +He bent towards her. "Good-bye!" he said again. + +She moved swiftly, seized by an impulse she could not pause to +question. It was as if an unknown force compelled her. She +mounted the wheel, and offered him her lips in farewell. + +For a moment his arms encircled her with a close and quivering +tension. He kissed her, and in that kiss for the first time she +felt the call of the spirit. + +Then she was free, and blindly feeling for the ground. As she +reached it, she heard Merston returning, and without a backward +look she took up her suit-case and turned to enter. There was a +burning sensation as of tears in her throat, but she kept them from +her eyes by sheer determination, and Merston noticed nothing. + +"Go straight in!" he said to her with cheery hospitality. "You'll +find my wife inside. She's cooking the supper. She'll be awfully +pleased to see you." + +If this were indeed the case, Mrs. Merston certainly concealed any +excess of pleasure very effectually. She greeted her with a +perfunctory smile, and told her it was very good of her to come but +she would soon wish she hadn't. She was looking very worn and +tired, but she assured Sylvia somewhat sardonically that she was +not feeling any worse than usual. The heat and the drought had +been very trying, and her husband's accident had given her more to +do. She had fainted the evening before, and he had been frightened +for once and made a fuss--quite unnecessarily. She was quite +herself again, and she hoped Sylvia would not feel she had been +summoned on false pretences. + +Sylvia assured her that she would not, and declared it would do her +good to make herself useful. + +"Aren't you that at home?" said Mrs. Merston. + +"Well, there are plenty of Kaffirs to do the work. I am not +absolutely necessary to Burke's comfort," Sylvia explained. + +"I thought you were," Matilda Merston's pale eyes gave her a shrewd +glance. "He was keen enough to run after you to Brennerstadt," she +remarked. "How did you get on there?" + +Sylvia hesitated. "We were only there a couple of nights," she +said vaguely. + +"So I gathered. Did you find Guy?" + +"No. I didn't see him. But Mr. Kelly has promised to look after +him." + +"Ah, Donovan is a good sort," said Mrs. Merston. "He'd nursemaid +anyone. So Kieff is dead!" + +She said it abruptly, too intent upon the mixing of her cake to +look up. + +There came the sound of wheel and hoofs outside, and Sylvia paused +to listen before she replied. + +"Yes. Kieff is dead." + +The sound died away in the distance, and there fell a silence. + +Then, "Killed himself, did he?" asked Mrs. Merston. + +"I was told so," said Sylvia. + +"Don't you believe it?" Mrs. Merston looked across at her suddenly. +"Did someone else have a try first? Did he have a row with Burke?" + +There was no evading the questions though she would fain have +avoided the whole subject. In a very low voice Sylvia spoke of the +violent scene she had witnessed. + +Mrs. Merston listened with interest, but with no great surprise. +"Burke always was a savage," she commented. "But after all, Kieff +had tried to kill him a day or two before. Guy prevented that, so +Donovan told me. What made Guy go off in such a hurry?" + +"I--can't tell you," Sylvia said. + +Something in her reply struck Mrs. Merston. She became suddenly +silent, and finished her task without another word. + +Later, when she took Sylvia to the guest-room, which was no more +than a corrugated iron lean-to lined with boarding, she +unexpectedly drew the girl to her and kissed her. But still she +did not say a word. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +PIET VREIBOOM + +It was a strange friendship that developed between Sylvia and +Matilda Merston during the days that followed; for they had little +in common. The elder woman leaned upon the younger, and, perhaps +in consequence of this, Sylvia's energy seemed inexhaustible. She +amazed Bill Merston by her capacity for work. She lifted the +burden that had pressed so heavily upon her friend, and manfully +mastered every difficulty that arose. She insisted that her +hostess should rest for a set time every day, and the effect of +this unusual relaxation upon Matilda was surprising. Her husband +marvelled at it, and frankly told her she was like another woman. +For, partly from the lessening of the physical strain and partly +from the influence of congenial companionship, the carping +discontent that had so possessed her of late had begun to give way +to a softer and infinitely more gracious frame of mind. The bond +of their womanhood drew the two together, and the intimacy between +them nourished in that desert place though probably in no other +ground would it have taken root. + +Work was as an anaesthetic to Sylvia in those days. She was +thankful to occupy her mind and at night to sleep from sheer +weariness. The sense of being useful to someone helped her also. +She gave herself up to work as a respite from the torment of +thought, resolutely refusing to look forward, striving so to become +absorbed in the daily task as to crowd out even memory. She and +Merston were fast friends also, and his wholesome masculine +selfishness did her good. He was like a pleasant, rather spoilt +child, unconventionally affectionate, and by no means difficult to +manage. They called each other by their Christian names before she +had been twenty-four hours at the farm, and chaffed each other with +cheery inconsequence whenever they met. Sylvia sometimes marvelled +at herself for that surface lightheartedness, but somehow it seemed +to be in the atmosphere. Bill Merston's hearty laugh was +irresistible to all but his wife. + +It was but a brief respite. She knew it could not last, but its +very transience made her the more ready 10 take advantage of it. +And she was thankful for every day that carried her farther from +that terrible time at Brennerstadt. It had begun to seem more like +an evil dream to her now--a nightmare happening that never could +have taken place in ordinary, normal existence. + +Burke did not come over to see them again, nor did he write. +Evidently he was too busy to do either. But one evening Merston +announced his intention of riding over to Blue Hill Farm, and asked +Sylvia if she would like to send a note by him. + +"You've got ten minutes to do it in," he gaily told her. "So you'd +better leave all the fond adjectives till the end and put them in +if you have time." + +She thanked him carelessly enough for his advice, but when she +reached her own room she found herself confronted with a problem +that baffled her. How was she to write to Burke? What could she +say to him? She felt strangely confounded and unsure of herself. + +Eight of the allotted ten minutes had flown before she set pencil +to paper. Then, hurriedly, with trembling fingers, she scribbled a +few sentences. "I hope all is well with you. We are very busy +here. Matilda is better, and I am quite fit and enjoying the work. +Is Mary Ann looking after you properly?" She paused there. +Somehow the thought of Burke with only the Kaffir servants to +minister to him sent an odd little pang through her. She had begun +to accustom him to better things. She wondered if he were +lonely--if he wanted her. Ought she to offer to go back? + +Something cried out sharply within her at the thought. Her whole +being shrank as the old nightmare horror swept back upon her. +No--no! She could not face it--not yet. The memory of his +implacability, his ruthlessness, arose like a menacing wave, +shaking her to the soul. + +Then, suddenly, the vision changed. She saw him as she had seen +him on that last night, when she had awaked to find him kneeling by +her bed. And again that swift pang went through her. She did not +ask herself again if he wanted her. + +The door of her room opened on to the yard. She heard Merston lead +his horse up to the front of the bungalow and stand talking to his +wife who was just inside. She knew that in a moment or two his +cheery shout would come to her, calling for the note. + +Hastily she resumed her task. "If there is any mending to be done, +send it back by Bill." + +Again she paused. Matilda was laughing at something her husband had +said. It was only lately that she had begun to laugh. + +Almost immediately came an answering shout of laughter from +Merston, and then his boyish yell to her. + +"Hi, Sylvia! How much longer are you going to keep me waiting for +that precious love-letter?" + +She called an answer to him, dashing off final words as she did so. +"I feel I am doing some good here, but if you should specially wish +it, of course I will come back at any time." For a second more she +hesitated, then simply wrote her name. + +Folding up the hurried scrawl, she was conscious of a strong sense +of dissatisfaction, but she would not reopen it. There was nothing +more to be said. + +She went out with it to Bill Merston, and met his chaff with +careless laughter. + +"You haven't told him to come and fetch you away, I hope?" Matilda +said, as he rode away. + +And she smiled and answered, "No, not unless he specially needs me." + +"You don't want to go ?" Matilda asked abruptly. + +"Not unless you are tired of me," Sylvia rejoined. + +"Don't be silly!" said Matilda briefly. + +Half an hour after Merston's departure there came the shambling +trot of another horse, and Piet Vreiboom, slouched like a sack in +the saddle rode up and rolled off at the door. + +"Oh, bother the man!" said Matilda, "I shan't ask him in with Bill +away." + +The amiable Piet, however, did not wait to be asked. He fastened +up his horse and rolled into the house with his hat on, where he +gave her perfunctory greeting, grinned at Sylvia, and seated +himself in the easiest chair he could find. + +Matilda's face of unconcealed disgust nearly provoked Sylvia to +uncontrolled laughter, but she checked herself in time, and went to +get the unwelcome visitor a drink in the hope of speeding his +departure. + +Piet Vreiboom however was in no hurry, though they assured him +repeatedly that Merston would probably not return for some hours. +He sat squarely in his chair with his little greedy eyes fixed upon +Sylvia, and merely grunted in response to all their efforts. + +When he had refreshed himself and lighted his pipe, he began to +search his mind for the few English words at his disposal and to +arrange these in a fashion intelligible to the two very inferior +beings who were listening to him. He told them in laboured +language that he had come from Brennerstadt, that the races were +over and the great Wilbraham diamond was lost and won. Who had won +it? No one knew. Some said it was a lady. He looked again at +Sylvia who turned out the pockets of her overall, and assured him +that she was not the lucky one. + +He looked as if he suspected ridicule behind her mirth, and changed +the subject. Guy Ranger had disappeared, and no one knew what had +become of him. Some people thought he was dead, like Kieff. Again +he looked searchingly at Sylvia, but she did not joke over this +information. She began to peel some potatoes as if she had not +heard it. And Piet Vreiboom sat back in his chair and stared at +her, till the hot colour rose and spread over her face and neck, +and then he puffed forth a cloud of vile smoke and laughed. + +At that juncture Mrs. Merston came forward with unusual briskness. +"You had better go," she said, with great decision. "There is +going to be a storm." + +He began to dispute the point, but meeting most unexpected +lightning in her pale eyes he thought better of it, and after a few +seconds for deliberation and the due assertion of his masculine +superiority, he lumbered to his feet and prepared to depart. + +Mrs. Merston followed him firmly to the door, reiterating, her +belief in a coming change. Certainly the sky was overcast, but the +clouds often came up thickly at night and dispersed again without +shedding any rain. There had not been rain for months. + +Very grimly Matilda Merston watched the departure of her unwelcome +visitor, enduring the dust that rose from his horse's hoofs with +the patience of inflexible determination. Then, when she had seen +him go and the swirling dust had begun to settle again, she turned +inwards and proceeded to wash the glass that the Boer had used with +an expression of fixed disgust. + +Suddenly she spoke. "I shouldn't believe anything that man said on +oath." + +"Neither should I," said Sylvia quietly. She did not look up from +her task, and Matilda Merston said no more. + +There was a brief silence, then Sylvia spoke again. "You are very +good to me," she said. + +"My dear!" said Matilda almost sharply. + +Sylvia's hands were trembling a little, but she continued to occupy +them. "You must sometimes wonder why Guy is so much to me," she +said. "I think it has been very sweet of you never to ask. But I +feel I should like to tell you about it." + +"Of course; if you want to," said Matilda. + +"I do want you to know," Sylvia said, with slight effort. "You +have taken me so much on trust. And I never even told you how I +came to meet--and marry--Burke." + +"There was no necessity for you to tell me," said Matilda. + +"Perhaps not. But you must have thought it rather sudden--rather +strange." Sylvia's fingers moved a little more rapidly. "You see, +I came out here engaged to marry Guy." + +"Good gracious!" said Matilda. + +Sylvia glanced up momentarily. "We had been engaged for years. We +were engaged before he ever came here. We--loved each other. +But--" Words failed her suddenly; she drew a short, hard breath +and was silent. + +"He let you down?" said Matilda. + +She nodded. + +Matilda's face hardened. "That was Burke's doing." + +"No--no!" Sylvia found her voice again with an effort. "It isn't +fair to say that. Burke tried to help him,--has tried--many times. +He may have been harsh to him; he may have made mistakes. But I +know he has tried to help him." + +"Was that why he married you?" asked Matilda, with a bitter curl of +the lip. + +Sylvia winced. "No. I--don't quite know what made him think of +that. Perhaps--in a way--he felt he ought. I was thrown on his +protection, and he never would believe that I was capable of +fending for myself." + +"Very chivalrous!" commented Matilda. "Men are like that." + +Sylvia shivered. "Don't--please! He--has been very good to me." + +"In his own way," said Matilda. + +"No, in every way. I can't tell you how good till--till Guy came +back. He brought him back to please me." Sylvia's voice was low +and distressed. "That was when things began to go wrong," she said. + +"There was nothing very magnanimous in that," commented Matilda. +"He wanted you to see poor Guy when he was down. He wanted to give +you a lesson so that you should realize your good luck in being +married to him. He didn't count on the fact that you loved him. +He expected you to be disgusted." + +"Oh, don't!" Sylvia said quickly. "Really that isn't fair. That +isn't--Burke. He did it against his judgment. He did it for my +sake." + +"You don't know much about men, do you?" said Matilda. + +"Perhaps not. But I know that much about Burke. I know that he +plays fair." + +"Even if he kills his man," suggested Matilda cynically. + +"He always plays fair." Sylvia spoke firmly. "But he doesn't know +how to make allowances. He is hard." + +"Have you found him so?" said Matilda. + +"I?" Sylvia looked across at her. + +Their eyes met. There was a certain compulsion in the elder +woman's look. + +"Yes, you," she said. "You personally. Has he been cruel to you, +Sylvia? Has he? Ah no, you needn't tell me! I--know." She went +suddenly to her, and put her arm around her. + +Sylvia was trembling. "He didn't--understand," she whispered. + +"Men never do," said Matilda very bitterly. "Love is beyond them. +They are only capable of passion. I learnt that lesson long ago. +It simplified life considerably, for I left off expecting anything +else." + +Sylvia clung to her for a moment. "I think you are wrong," she +said. "I know you are wrong--somehow. But--I can't prove it to +you." + +"You're so young," said Matilda compassionately. + +"No, no, I am not." Sylvia tried to smile as she disengaged +herself. "I am getting older. I am learning. If--if only I felt +happy about Guy, I believe I should get on much better. +But--but--" the tears rose to her eyes in spite of her--"he haunts +me. I can't rest because of him. I dream about him. I feel torn +in two. For Burke--has given him up. But I--I can't." + +"Of course you can't. You wouldn't." Matilda spoke with warmth. +"Don't let Burke deprive you of your friends! Plenty of men +imagine that when you have got a husband, you don't need anyone +else. They little know." + +Sylvia's eyes went out across the _veldt_ to a faint, dim line of +blue beyond, and dwelt upon it wistfully. "Don't you think it +depends upon the husband?" she said. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +OUT OF THE DEPTHS + +That night the thunder rolled among the _kopjes_, and Sylvia lay in +her hut wide-awake and listening. The lightning glanced and +quivered about the distant hills and threw a weird and fitful +radiance about her bed, extinguishing the dim light thrown by her +night-lamp. + +Bill Merston had brought her back a written message from her +husband, and she lay with it gripped in her hand. For that message +held a cry which had thrown her whole soul into tumult. + +"I want you," he had written in a hand that might have been Guy's. +"I can't get on without you. I am coming to-morrow to fetch you +back--if you will come." + +If she would come! In those last words she seemed to hear the +appeal of a man's agony. What had he been through before he had +brought himself to write those words? They hurt her unutterably, +piercing her to the soul, when she remembered her own half-hearted +offer to return. Yet she would have given all she had for a few +days' respite. The hot fierce longing that beat in those few words +frightened her by its intensity. It made her think of one of those +overwhelming _veldt_ fires, consuming everything in its path, +leaving behind it the blackness of desolation. Yes, he wanted her +now because she had been denied to him. The flame of his desire +had been fanned to a white heat. She seemed to feel it reaching +out to her, scorching her, even as she lay. And she shrank with a +desperate sense of impotence, feeling her fate to be sealed. For +she knew that she must go to him. She must pass through the +furnace anew. She must endure her fate. Afterwards--it might +be--when it had burnt itself out, some spark of the Divine would be +found kindled among the ashes to give her comfort. + +And ever the thought of Guy waited at the back of her mind, Guy who +had failed her so hopelessly, so repeatedly. Was she going to fail +him now? Was she going to place herself so completely out of his +reach that even if he called to her for help she would be powerless +to stretch forth a hand to him? The thought tormented her. It was +the one thing that she felt she could not face, the one point upon +which she and Burke would be for ever at variance. Ah no! +Whatever else she surrendered, she could not yield to him in this. +She could not, she would not, leave Guy to sink while there +remained the smallest chance of saving him. + +So she told herself, lying there alone, while the thunder rolled +now near, now far, like a menacing monster wandering hither and +thither in search of prey. Earlier in the night she had tried to +pray, but it had brought her no relief. She had not really prayed +since that terrible journey to Brennerstadt when she had poured out +her whole soul in supplication and had met only failure. She felt +in a fashion cut off, forgotten in this land of strangers. The +very effort to bridge the gulf seemed but to emphasize her utter +impotence. She had come to that barren part of the way where even +the most hopeful traveller sometimes feels that God has forgotten +to be gracious. She had never felt more alone in all her life, and +it was a loneliness that frightened her. + +Weirdly the lightning played about her bed. She watched it with +eyes that would not close. She wondered if Burke were watching it +also, and shivered with the thought of the morrow, asking herself +for the first time why she had ever consented to marry him, why she +had not rather shouldered her fate and gone back to her father. +She would have found work in England. He would have helped her if +she had only had the courage to return, the strength to be humble. +Her thoughts lingered tenderly about him. They had been so much to +each other once. Did he ever regret her? Did he ever wish her +back? + +A burning lump rose in her throat. She turned her head upon the +pillow, clasping her hands tightly over her eyes. Ah, if she had +but gone back to him! They had loved each other, and somehow love +would have conquered. Did not love always conquer? What were +those words that she had read cut deep in the trunk of a dead tree? +They flashed through her brain more vividly than the glancing +lightning--the key to every closed door--the balm for every +wound--the ladder by which alone the top of the world is reached. +_Fide et Amore_! By Faith and Love! + +There came again to her that curious feeling of revelation. +Looking back, she saw the man on horseback hewing those words while +she waited. The words themselves shone in fiery letters across. +her closed eyelids. She asked herself suddenly, with an awed +wonder if perchance her prayer had been answered after all, and she +had suffered the message to pass her by. . . . + +There came a crash of thunder nearer and more menacing than any +that had gone before, startling her almost with a sense of doom, +setting every pulse in her body beating. She uncovered her face +and sat up. + +Sullenly the echoes rolled away, yet they left behind a strange +impression that possessed her with an uncanny force from which she +could not shake herself free--a feeling that amounted to actual +conviction that some presence lurked without in the storm, alert +and stealthy, waiting for something. + +The window was at the side of her bed. She had but to draw aside +the curtain and look out. It was within reach of her hand. But +for many breathless seconds she dared not. + +What it was that stood outside she had no idea, but the thought of +Kieff was in her mind--Kieff the vampire who was dead. + +She felt herself grow cold all over. She had only to cross the +narrow room and knock on the main wall of the bungalow to summon +Merston. He would come at a moment's notice, she knew. But she +felt powerless to move. Sheer terror bound her limbs. + +The thunder slowly ceased, and there followed a brief stillness +through which the beating of her heart clamoured wildly. Yet she +was beginning to tell herself that it was no more than a nightmare +panic that had caught her, when suddenly something knocked softly +upon the closed window beneath which she lay. + +She started violently and glanced across the room, measuring the +distance to the further wall on which she herself would have to +knock to summon help. + +Then, while instinctively she debated the point, summoning her +strength for the effort, there came another sound close to her--a +low voice speaking her name. + +"Sylvia! Sylvia! Wake up and let me in!" + +She snatched back the curtain in a second. She knew that voice. +By the shifting gleam of the lightning she saw him, looking in upon +her. Her fear vanished. + +Swiftly she sprang to do his bidding. Had she ever failed to +answer any call of his? She drew back the bolts of her door, and +in a moment they were together. + +The thunder roared again behind him as he entered, but neither of +them heard it. For he caught her in his arms with a hungry sound, +and as she clung to him nearly fainting with relief, he kissed her, +straining her to him gasping wild words of love. + +The touch of those hot, devouring lips awoke her. She had never +felt the slightest fear of Guy before that moment, but the +fierceness of his hold called a sharp warning in her soul. There +was about him an unrestraint, a lawlessness, that turned her relief +into misgiving. She put up a quick hand, checking him. + +"Guy--Guy, you are hurting me!" + +He relaxed his hold then, looking at her, his head back, the old +boyish triumph shining in his eyes. "Little sweetheart, I'm sorry. +I couldn't help it--just for the moment. The sight of you and the +touch of you together just turned my head. But it's all right. +Don't look so scared! I wouldn't harm a single hair of your +precious little head." He gathered up the long plait of her hair +and kissed it passionately. + +She laid a trembling hand against his shoulder. "Guy, please! You +mustn't. I had to let you in. But not--not for this." + +He uttered a low laugh that seemed to hold a note of triumph. But +he let her go. + +"Of course you had to let me in! Were you asleep? Did I frighten +you?" + +"You startled me just at first. I think the thunder had set me on +edge, for I wasn't asleep. It's such a--savage sort of night, +isn't it?" + +Sylvia glanced forth again over the low _veldt_ where the +flickering lightning leaped from cloud to cloud. + +"Not so bad," said Guy. "It will serve our turn all right. Do you +know what I have come for?" + +She looked back at him quickly. There was no mistaking the +exultation in his low voice. It amazed her, and again she was +stabbed by that sense of insecurity. + +"I thought you had come to--explain things," she made answer. "And +to say--good-bye." + +"To say--what?" He took her by the shoulders; his dark eyes +flashed a laughing challenge into hers. "You're not in earnest!" +he said. + +She backed away from him. "But I am, Guy. I am." Her voice +sounded strained even to herself, for she was strangely discomfited +by his attitude. She had expected a broken man kneeling at her +feet in an agony of contrition. His overweening confidence +confounded her. "Have you no sense of right and wrong left?" she +said. + +He kept his hands upon her. "None whatever," he told her +recklessly. "The only thing in life that counts is you--just you. +Because we love each other, the whole world is ours for the taking. +No, listen, darling! I'm not talking rot. Do you remember the +last time we were together? How I swore I would conquer--for your +sake? Well,--I've done it. I have conquered. Now that that devil +Kieff is dead, there is no reason why I shouldn't keep straight +always. And so I have come to you--for my crown." + +His voice sank. He stooped towards her. + +But she drew back sharply. "Guy, don't forget--don't forget--I am +married to Burke!" she said, speaking quickly, breathlessly. + +His hands tightened upon her. "I am going to forget," he told her +fiercely. "And so are you. You have no love for him. Your +marriage is nothing but an empty bond." + +"No--no!" Painfully she broke in upon him. "My marriage is--more +than that. I am his wife--and the keeper of his honour. I am +going back to him--to-morrow." + +"You are not! You are not!" Hotly he contradicted her. "By +to-morrow we shall be far away. Listen, Sylvia! I haven't told +you all. I am rich. My luck has turned. You'll hardly believe +it, but it's true. It was I who won the Wilbraham diamond. We've +kept it secret, because I didn't want to be dogged by parasites. +I've thought of you all through. And now--and now--" his voice +vibrated again on that note of triumph--"I've come to take you +away. Mine at last!" + +He would have drawn her to him, but she resisted him. She pushed +him from her. For the first time in her life she looked at him +with condemnation in her eyes. + +"Is this--true?" Her voice held a throb of anger. + +He stared at her, his triumph slowly giving place to a half-formed +doubt. "Of course it's true. I couldn't invent anything so +stupendous as that." + +She looked back at him mercilessly. "If it is true, how did you +find the money for the gamble?" + +The doubt on his face deepened to something that was almost shame. +"Oh, that!" he said. "I--borrowed that." + +"You borrowed it!" She repeated the words without pity. "You +borrowed it from Burke's strong-box. Didn't you?" + +The question was keen as the cut of a whip. It demanded an answer. +Almost involuntarily, the answer came. + +"Well--yes! But---I hoped to pay it back. I'm going to pay it +back--now." + +"Now!" she said, and almost laughed. Was it for this that she had +staked everything--everything she had--and lost? There was bitter +scorn in her next words. "You can pay it back to Donovan Kelly," +she said. "He has replaced it on your behalf." + +"What do you mean?" His hands were clenched. Behind his cloak of +shame a fire was kindling. The glancing lightning seemed reflected +in his eyes. + +But Sylvia knew no fear, only an overwhelming contempt. "I mean," +she said, "that to save you--to leave you a chance of getting back +to solid ground--Donovan and I deceived Burke. He supplied the +money, and I put it back." + +"Great Jove!" said Guy. He was looking at her oddly, almost +speculatively. "But Donovan never had any money to spare!" he +said. "He sends it all home to his old mother." + +"He gave it to me nevertheless." Sylvia's voice had a scathing +note. "And--he pretended that it had come from you--that you had +returned it." + +"Very subtle of him!" said Guy. He considered the point for a +moment or two, then swept it aside. "Well, I'll settle up with +him. It'll be all right. I always pay my debts--sooner or later. +So that's all right, isn't it? Say it's all right!" + +He spoke imperiously, meeting her scorn with a dominating +self-assurance. There followed a few moments that were tense with +a mental conflict such as Sylvia had never deemed possible between +them. Then in a very low voice she made answer. + +"No. It is not all right. Nothing can ever make it so again. +Please say good-bye--and go!" + +He made a furious movement, and caught her suddenly and violently +by the wrists. His eyes shone like the eyes of a starving animal. +Before she had time to resist him, her hands were gripped behind +her and she was fast locked in his arms. + +He spoke, his face close to hers, his hot breath seeming to consume +her, his words a mere whisper through lips that almost moved upon +her own. + +"Do you think I'm going--now? Do you think you can send me away +with a word like that--fling me off like an old glove--you who have +belonged to me all these years? No, don't speak! You'd better not +speak! If you dare to deny your love for me now, I believe I shall +kill you! If you had been any other woman, I wouldn't have stopped +to argue. But--you are you. And--I--love you so." + +His voice broke unexpectedly upon the words. For a moment--one +sickening, awful moment--his lips were pressed upon hers, seeming +to draw all the breath--the very life itself--out of her quivering +body. Then there came a terrible sound--a rending sound like the +tearing of dry wood--and the dreadful constriction of his hold was +gone. She burst from it, gasping for air and freedom with the +agonized relief of one who has barely escaped suffocation. She +sprang for the door though her knees were doubling under her. She +reached it, and threw it wide. Then she looked back. . . . + +He was huddled against the wall, his head in his hands, writhing as +if in the grip of some fiendish torturer. Broken sounds escaped +him--sounds he fought frantically to repress. He seemed to be +choking; and in a second her memory flashed back to that anguish +she had witnessed weeks before when first she had seen Kieff's +remedy and implored him to use it. + +For seconds she stood, a helpless witness, too horrified to move. +Then, her physical strength reviving, pity stirred within her, +striving against what had been a sick and fearful loathing. +Gradually her vision cleared. The evil shadow lifted from her +brain. She saw him as he was--a man in desperate need of help. + +She flung her repugnance from her, though it dung to her, dragging +upon her as she moved like a tangible thing. She closed the door +and went slowly back into the room, mastering her horror, fighting +it at every step. She readied the struggling, convulsed figure, +laid her hands upon it,--and her repulsion was gone. + +"Sit down!" she said. "Sit down and let me help you!" + +Blindly he surrendered to her guiding. She led him to the bed, and +he sank upon it. She opened his shirt at the throat. She brought +him water. + +He could not drink at first, but after repeated effort he succeeded +in swallowing a little. Then at length in a hoarse whisper, +scarcely intelligible, he asked for the remedy which he always +carried. + +She felt in his pockets and found it, all ready for use. The +lightning had begun to die down, and the light within the room was +dim. She turned the lamp higher, moving it so that its ray fell +upon Guy. And in that moment she saw Death in his face. . . . + +She felt as if a quiet and very steady Hand had been laid upon her, +checking all agitation. Calmly she bent over the bared arm he +thrust forth to her. Unflinchingly she ran the needle into the +white flesh, noting with a detached sort of pity his emaciation. + +He put his other arm about her like a frightened, dinging child. +"Stay with me! Don't leave me!" he muttered. + +"All right," she made gentle answer. "Don't be afraid!" + +He leaned against her, shuddering violently, his dark head bowed, +his spasmodic breathing painful to hear. She waited beside him for +the relief that seemed so slow in coming. Kieff's remedy did not +act so quickly now. + +Gradually at last the distress began to lessen. She felt the +tension of his crouched body relax, the anguished breathing become +less laboured. He still clung to her, and her hand was on his head +though she did not remember putting it there. The dull echoes of +the thunder reverberated far away among the distant hills. The +night was passing. + +Out of a deep silence there came Guy's voice. "I want--" he said +restlessly--"I want----" + +She bent over him. Her arm went round his shoulders. Somehow she +felt as if the furnace of suffering through which he had come had +purged away all that was evil. His weakness cried aloud to her; +the rest was forgotten. + +He turned his face up to her; and though the stamp of his agony was +still upon it, the eyes were pure and free from all taint of +passion. + +"What do you want?" she asked him softly. + +"I've been--horrible to you, Sylvia," he said, speaking rather +jerkily. "Sometimes I get a devil inside me--and I don't know what +I'm doing. I believe it's Kieff. I never knew what hell meant +till I met him. He taught me practically everything I know in that +line. He was like an awful rotting disease. He ruined everyone he +came near. Everything he touched went bad." He paused a moment. +Then, with a sudden boyishness, "There, it's done with, darling," +he said. "Will you forget it all--and let me start afresh? I've +had such damnable luck always." + +His eyes pleaded with her, yet they held confidence also. He knew +that she would not refuse. + +And because of that which the lamplight had revealed to her, Sylvia +bent after a moment and kissed him on the forehead. She knew as +she did it that the devil, that had menaced her had been driven +forth. + +So for a space they remained in a union of the spirit that was +curiously unlike anything that had ever before existed between +them. Then Guy's arm began to slip away from her. There came from +him a deep sigh. + +She bent low over him, looking into his face. His eyes were +closed, but his lips moved, murmuring words which she guessed +rather than heard. + +"Let me rest--just for a little! I shall be all right--afterwards." + +She laid him back very gently upon the pillow, and lifted his feet +on to the bed. He thanked her almost inaudibly, and relaxed every +muscle like a tired child. She turned the lamp from him and moved +away. + +She dressed in the dimness. Guy did not stir again. He lay +shrouded in the peace of utter repose. She had watched those deep +slumbers too often to fear any sudden awakening. + +A few minutes later she went to the door, and softly opened it. + +The sullen clouds were lifting; the night had gone. Very far away +a faint orange light spread like the reflected glow from a mighty +furnace somewhere behind those hills of mystery. The _veldt_ lay +wide and dumb like a vast and soundless sea. + +She stood awed, as one who had risen out of the depths and scarcely +yet believed in any deliverance. But the horror had passed from +her like an evil dream. She stood in the first light of the +dawning and waited in a great stillness for the coming of the day. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE MEETING + +Joe, the Kaffir boy, bestirred himself to the sound of Mary Ann's +shrill rating. The hour was still early, but the big _baas_ was in +a hurry and wanted his boots. Joe hastened to polish them to the +tune of Mary Ann's repeated assurance that he would be wanting his +whip next, while Fair Rosamond laid the table with a nervous speed +that caused her to trip against every chair she passed. When Burke +made his appearance, the whole bungalow was as seething with +excitement as if it had been peopled by a horde of Kaffirs instead +of only three. + +He was scarcely aware of them in his desire to be gone, merely +throwing an order here and there as he partook of a hasty +breakfast, and then striding forth to their vast relief to mount +into the Cape cart with its two skittish horses that awaited him +beyond the _stoep_. + +He departed in a cloud of dust, for still the rain did not fall, +and immediately, like the casting of a spell, the peace of a great +somnolence descended upon the bungalow. The Kaffirs strolled back +to their huts to resume their interrupted slumbers. + +The dust slowly settled upon all things, and all was quiet. + +Down the rough track Burke jolted. The horses were fresh, and he +did not seek to check them. All night long he had been picturing +that swift journey and the goal that awaited him, and he was in a +fever to accomplish it. Their highest speed was not swift enough +for him. + +Through the heavy clouds behind him there came the first break of +the sunshine transforming the _veldt_. It acted like a goad upon +him. He wanted to start back before the sun rose high. The track +that led to Bill Merston's farm was even rougher than his own, but +it did not daunt him. He suffered the horses to take their own +pace, and they travelled superbly. They had scarcely slackened +during the whole ten-mile journey. + +He smiled faintly to himself as he sighted the hideous iron +building that was Bill Merston's dwelling-place. He wondered how +Sylvia appreciated this form of life in the wilderness. He slowed +down the animals to a walk as he neared it, peering about for some +sign of its inhabitants. The clouds had scattered, and the son was +shining brilliantly behind him. He reflected that Merston was +probably out on the lands. His wife would be superintending the +preparation of breakfast. And Sylvia---- + +Something jerked suddenly within him, and a pulse awoke to a +furious beating in his throat. Sylvia was emerging at that very +moment from the doorway of the humble guest-chamber. The sun was +in her eyes, blinding her, and she did not see him. Yet she paused +a moment on the threshold. + +Burke dragged in his horses and sat watching her across the yard. +She looked pale and unspeakably weary in the searching morning +light. For a second or two she stood so, then, slightly turning, +she spoke into the room behind her ere she closed the door: + +"Stay here while I fetch you something to eat! Then you shall go +as soon as you like." + +Clearly her voice came to him, and in it was that throb of +tenderness which he had heard once before when she had offered him +her dreaming face to kiss with the name of another man upon her +lips. He sat quite motionless as one transfixed while she drew the +door after her and stepped forth into the sunshine. And still she +did not see him for the glory of the morning. + +She went quickly round to the back of the bungalow and disappeared +from his sight. + +Two minutes later Burke Ranger strode across the yard with that in +his face which made it more terrible than the face of a savage +beast. He reached the closed door, opened it, and stepped within. + +His movements were swift and wholly without stealth, but they did +not make much sound. The man inside the room did not hear +immediately. + +He was seated on the edge of the bed adjusting the strap of one of +his gaiters. Burke stood and watched him unobserved till he lifted +his head. Then with a curt, "Now!" he turned and bolted the door +behind him. + +"Hullo!" said Guy, and got to his feet. + +They stood face to face, alike yet unlike, men of the same breed, +bearing the same ineradicable stamp, yet poles asunder. + +The silence between them was as the appalling pause between the +lightning and the thunder-clap. All the savagery of which the +human heart is capable was pent within its brief bounds. Then +Burke spoke through lips that were white and strangely twisted: + +"Have you anything at all to say for yourself?" + +Guy threw a single glance around. "Not here," he said. "And not +now. I'll meet you. Where shall I meet you?" + +"Why not here--and now?" Burke's hands were at his sides, hard +clenched, as if it took all his strength to keep them there. His +eyes never stirred from Guy's face. They had the fixed and cruel +look of a hawk about to pounce upon its prey and rend it to atoms. + +But there was no fear about Guy, neither fear nor shame. Whatever +his sins had been, he had never flinched from the consequences. + +He answered without an instant's faltering: "Because we shall be +interrupted. We don't want a pack of women howling round. Also, +there are no weapons. You haven't even a _sjambok_." His eyes +gleamed suddenly. "And there isn't space enough to use it if you +had." + +"I don't need even a _sjambok_," Burke said, "to kill a rat like +you." + +"No. And I shan't die so hard as a rat either. All the same," Guy +spoke with quiet determination, "you can't do it here. Damn it, +man! Are you afraid I shall run away?" + +"No!" The answer came like a blow. "But I can't wait, you +accursed blackguard! I've waited too long already." + +"No, you haven't!" Guy straightened himself sharply, braced for +violence, for Burke was close to him and there was something of the +quality of a coiled spring in his attitude, a spring that a touch +would release. "Wait a minute, Burke! Do you hear? Wait a +minute? I'm everything you choose to call me. I'm a traitor, a +thief, and a blackguard. But I'm another thing as well." His +voice broke oddly and he continued in a lower key, rapidly, as if +he feared his strength might not last. "I'm a failure. I haven't +done this thing I tried to do. I never shall do it now. +Because--your wife--is incorruptible. Her loyalty is greater than +my--treachery." + +Again there sounded that curious catch in his voice as if a +remorseless hand were tightening upon his throat. But he fought +against it with a fierce persistence. He faced Burke with livid, +twitching lips. + +"God knows," he said in a passionate whisper, "whether she loves +you. But she will be true to you--as long as you live!" + +His words went into silence--a silence so tense that it seemed as +if it must end in furious action--as if a hurtling blow and a +crashing, headlong fall could be the only outcome. + +But neither came. After several rigid seconds Burke spoke, his +voice dead level, without a hint of emotion. + +"You expect me to believe that, do you?" + +Guy made a sharp movement that had in it more of surprise than +protest. His throat worked spasmodically for a moment or two ere +he forced it to utterance. + +"Don't you think," he said then, in a half-strangled undertone, +"that it would be a million times easier for me to let you +believe--otherwise?" + +"Why?" said Burke briefly. + +"Because--" savagely Guy flung back the answer--"I would rather be +murdered for what I've done than despised for what I've failed to +do." + +"I see," Burke said. "Then why not let me believe the obvious +without further argument?" + +There was contempt in his voice, but it was a bitter self-contempt +in which the man before him had no share. He had entered that room +with murder in his heart. The lust was still there, but he knew +now that it would go unsatisfied. He had been stopped, by what +means he scarcely realized. + +But Guy knew; and though it would have been infinitely easier, as +he had said, to have endured that first mad fury than to have +stayed it with a confession of failure, for some reason he forced +himself to follow the path of humiliation that he had chosen. + +"Because what you call the obvious chances also to be the +impossible," he said. "I'm not such a devil as to want to ruin her +for the fun of the thing. I tell you she's straight--as straight +as I am crooked. And you've got to believe in her--whether you +want to or not. That--if you like--is the obvious." He broke off, +breathing hard, yet in a fashion oddly triumphant, as if in +vindicating the girl he had somehow vindicated himself also. + +Burke looked at him fixedly for a few seconds longer. Then, +abruptly, as if the words were hard to utter, he spoke; "I believe +you." + +Guy relaxed with what was almost a movement of exhaustion, but in a +moment he braced himself again. "You shall have your satisfaction +all the same," he said. "I owe you that. Where shall I meet you?" + +Burke made a curt gesture as if dismissing a matter of but minor +importance, and turned to go. + +But in an instant, as if stung into action, Guy was before him. He +gripped him by the shoulder. "Man! Don't give me any of your +damned generosity!" He ground out the words between his teeth. +"Name a place! Do you hear? Name a place and time!" + +Burke stopped dead. His face was enigmatical as he looked at Guy. +There was a remote gleam in his stern eyes that was neither of +anger nor scorn. He stood for several seconds in silence, till the +hand that clutched his shoulder gripped and feverishly shook it. + +Then deliberately and with authority bespoke: "I'll meet you in my +own time. You can go back to your old quarters and--wait for me +there." + +Guy's hand fell from him. He stood for a moment as if irresolute, +then he moved aside. "All right. I shall go there to-day," he +said. + +And in silence Burke unbolted the door and went out. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE TRUTH + +When Burke presented himself at the door of the main bungalow he +found it half-open. The whirr of a sewing-machine came forth to +him, but it paused in answer to his knock, and Mrs. Merston's voice +bade him enter. + +He went in to find her seated at a plain wooden table with grey +flannel spread around her, her hand poised on the wheel of her +machine, which she drove round vigorously as he entered. Her light +eyes surveyed him in momentary surprise, and then fell straight +upon her work. A slightly deeper colour suffused her face. + +"You've come early," she said. + +"Good morning!" said Burke. + +She nodded without speaking, absorbed in her work. + +He came to a stand on the opposite side of the table, watching her. +He was quite well aware that Matilda Merston did not like him. She +had never scrupled to let him know it. The whirr of the machine +rose between them. She was working fast and furiously. + +He waited with absolute patience till she flung him a word. "Sit +down!" + +He seated himself facing her. + +Faster and faster spun the wheel. Matilda's thin lips were +compressed. Tiny beads appeared on her forehead. She was +breathing quickly. Suddenly there was a check, a sharp snap. She +uttered an impatient sound and stopped, looking across at her +visitor with undisguised hostility in her eyes. + +"I didn't do it," said Burke. + +She got up, not deigning a reply. "I suppose you'd like a drink," +she said. "Bill is out on the lands." + +His eyes comprehended her with a species of grim amusement. "No. +I won't have anything, thanks. I have come for my wife. Can you +tell me where she is ?" + +"You're very early," Matilda remarked again. + +He leaned his arms upon the table, looking up at her. "Yes. I +know. Isn't she up?" + +She returned his look with obvious disfavour. And yet Burke Ranger +was no despicable figure of manhood sitting there. He was broad, +well-knit, well-developed, clean of feature, with eyes of piercing +keenness. + +He met her frown with a faint smile. "Well?" he said. + +"Yes. Of course she is up." Grudgingly Matilda made answer. +Somehow she resented the clean-limbed health of these men who made +their living in the wilderness. There was something almost +aggressive about it. Abruptly she braced herself to give utterance +to her thoughts. "Why can't you leave her here a little longer? +She doesn't want to go back." + +"I think she must tell me that herself," Burke said. + +He betrayed no discomfiture. She had never seen him discomfited. +That was part of her grievance against him. + +"She won't do that," she said curtly. "She has old-fashioned ideas +about duty. But it doesn't make her like it any the better." + +"It wouldn't," said Burke. A gleam that was in no way connected +with his smile shone for a moment in his steady eyes, but it passed +immediately. He continued to contemplate the faded woman before +him very gravely, without animosity. "You have got rather fond of +Sylvia, haven't you?" he said. + +Matilda made an odd gesture that had in it something of vehemence. +"I am very sorry for her," she said bluntly. + +"Yes?" said Burke. + +"Yes." She repeated the word uncompromisingly, and closed her lips. + +"You're not going to tell me why?" he suggested. + +Her pale eyes grew suddenly hard and intensely bright. "Yes. I +should like to tell you," she said. + +He got up with a quiet movement. "Well, why?" he said. + +Her eyes flashed fire. "Because," she spoke very quickly, scarcely +pausing for breath, "you have turned her from a happy girl into a +miserable woman. I knew it would come. I saw it coming, I +knew--long before she did--that she had married the wrong man. And +I knew what she would suffer when she found out. She tried hard +not to find out; she did her best to blind herself. But she had to +face it at last. You forced her to open her eyes. And now--she +knows the truth. She will do her duty, because you are her husband +and there is no escape. But it will be bondage to her as long as +she lives. You have taken all the youth and the joy out of her +life." + +There was a fierce ring of passion in the words. For once Matilda +Merston glowed with life. There was even something superb in her +reckless denunciation of the man before her. + +He heard it without stirring a muscle, his eyes fixed unwaveringly +upon her, grim and cold as steel. When she ceased to speak, he +still stood motionless, almost as if he were waiting for something. + +She also waited, girt for battle, eager for the fray. But he +showed no sign of anger, and gradually her enthusiasm began to +wane. She bent, panting a little and began to smooth out a piece +of the grey flannel with nervous exactitude. + +Then Burke spoke. "So you think I am not the right man for her." + +"I am quite sure of that," said Matilda without looking up. + +"That means," Burke spoke slowly, with deliberate insistence, "that +you know she loves another man better." + +Matilda was silent. + +He bent forward a little, looking straight into her downcast face. +"Mrs. Merston," he said, "you are a woman; you ought to know. Do +you believe--honestly--that she would have been any happier married +to that other man?" + +She looked at him then in answer to his unspoken desire. He had +refused to do battle with her. That was her first thought, and she +was conscious of a momentary sense of triumph. Then--for she was a +woman--her heart stirred oddly within her, and her triumph was +gone. She met his quiet eyes with a sudden sharp misgiving. What +had she done? + +"Please answer me!" Burke said. + +And, in a low voice, reluctantly, she made answer. "I am afraid I +do." + +"You know the man?" he said. + +She nodded. "I believe--in time--she might have been his +salvation. Everybody thought he was beyond redemption. I know +that. But she--had faith. And they loved each other. That makes +all the difference." + +"Ah!" he said. + +For the first time he looked away from her, looked out through the +open door over the _veldt_ to that far-distant line of hills that +bounded their world. His brown face was set in stern, unwavering +lines. + +Furtively Matilda watched him, still with that uneasy feeling at +her heart. There was something enigmatical to her about this man's +hard endurance, but she did not resent it any longer. It awed her. + +Several seconds passed ere abruptly he turned and spoke. "I am +going back. Will you tell Sylvia? Say I can manage all right +without her if she is--happier here!" The barely perceptible pause +before the word made Matilda avert her eyes instinctively though +his face never varied. "I wish her to do exactly as she likes. +Good-bye!" + +He held out his hand to her suddenly, and she was amazed by the +warmth of his grasp. She murmured something incoherent about +hoping she had not been very unpleasant. It was the humblest +moment she had ever known. + +He smiled in reply--that faint, baffling smile. "Oh, not in the +least. I am grateful to you for telling me the truth. I am sure +you didn't enjoy it." + +No, to her own surprise, she had not enjoyed it. She even watched +him go with regret. There was that about Burke Ranger at the +moment which made her wonder if possibly the harsh conception she +had formed of him were wholly justified. + +As for Burke, he went straight out to his horses, looking neither +to right nor left, untied the reins, and drove forth again into the +_veldt_ with the dust of the desert rising all around him. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE STORM + +Hans Schafen met his master on the boundary of Blue Hill Farm with +a drawn face. Things were going from bad to worse. The drought +was killing the animals like flies. If the rain did not come soon, +there would be none left. He made his report to Burke with a +precision that did not hide his despair. Matters had never before +looked so serious. The dearth of water had begun to spell disaster. + +Burke listened with scarcely a comment. Blue Hill Farm was on +rising ground, and there had always been this danger in view. But +till this season it had never materialized to any alarming extent. +His position had often enough been precarious, but his losses had +never been overwhelming. The failure of the dam at Ritter Spruit +had been a catastrophe more far reaching than at the time he had +realized. It had crippled the resources of the farm, and flung him +upon the chances of the weather. He was faced with ruin. + +He heard Schafen out with no sign of consternation, and when he had +ended he drove on to the farm and stabled his horses himself with +his usual care. Then he went into his empty bungalow. . . + +Slowly the long hours wore away. The sun rose in its strength, +shining through a thick haze that was like the smoke from a +furnace. The atmosphere grew close and suffocating. An intense +stillness reigned without, broken occasionally by the despairing +bleating of thirst-stricken sheep. The haze increased, seeming to +press downwards upon the parched earth. The noonday was dark with +gathering clouds. + +At the hour of luncheon there came a slight stir in the bungalow. +Mary Ann thrust her amazing visage round the door and rolled her +eyes in frightened wonder at what she saw. The big _baas_ was +lying across the table, a prone, stricken figure, with his head +upon his arms. + +For a few seconds she stood in open-mouthed dismay, thinking him +dead; for she had never seen him thus in life. Then she saw his +shoulders heave convulsively, and promptly she turned and fled. + +Again the bungalow was empty and still, the hours dragged on +unheeded. Lower and lower pressed the threatening clouds. But the +man who sat alone in the darkening room was blind to all outward +things. He did not feel the pitiless, storm-laden heat of the day. +He was consumed by the agony of his soul. + +It was evening before the end came suddenly; a dancing flash that +lighted the heavens from east to west and, crashing upon it, an +explosion that seemed to rend the earth. It was a cataclysm of +sound, drowning the faculties, stunning the senses, brimming up the +void with awful tumult. + +A great start ran through the man's bowed figure. He sat up dazed, +stiffly opening his clenched hands. The world without seemed to be +running with fire. The storm shrieked over the _veldt_. It was +pandemonium. + +Stiffly he straightened his cramped muscles. His heart was +thumping in heavy, uneven strokes, obstructing his breathing. He +fought for a few seconds to fill his lungs. The atmosphere was +dense with sand. It came swirling in upon him, suffocating him. +He stood up, and was astounded to feel his own weakness against +that terrific onslaught. Grimly he forced his way to the open +window. The _veldt_ was alight with lurid, leaping flame. The +far-off hills stood up like ramparts in the amazing glare, stabbed +here and there with molten swords of an unendurable brightness. He +had seen many a raging storm before, but never a storm like this. + +The sand blinded him and he dragged the window shut, using all his +strength. It beat upon the glass with baffled fury. The thunder +rolled and echoed overhead like the chariot-wheels of God, shaking +the world. The clouds above the lightning were black as night. + +Suddenly far across the blazing _veldt_ he saw a sight that +tightened every muscle, sending a wild thrill through every nerve. +It came from the hills, a black, swift-moving pillar, seeming to +trail just above the ground, travelling straight forward through +the storm. Over rocks and past _kopjes_ it travelled, propelled by +a force unseen, and ever as it drew nearer it loomed more black and +terrible. + +He watched it with a grim elation, drawn irresistibly by its +immensity, its awfulness. Straight towards him it came, and the +lightning was dulled by its nearness and the thunder hushed. He +heard a swishing, whistling sound like the shriek of a shell, and +instinctively he gathered himself together for the last great shock +which no human power could withstand, the shattering asunder of +soul and body, the swift amazing release of the spirit. + +Involuntarily he shut his eyes as the thing drew near; but he did +not shrink, nor was there terror in his heart. + +"Thank God I shall die like a man!" he said through his set teeth. + +And then--while he waited tense and ready for the great revelation, +while all that was mortal in him throbbed with anguished +expectation--the monster of destruction swerved as if drawn by a +giant hand and passed him by. + +He opened his eyes upon a flicker of lightning and saw it whirling +onwards, growing ever in volume, towards the _kopje_ which Sylvia +had never conquered. The blackness of the sky above was appalling. +It hung so near, pressing earthwards through that mighty spout. + +With bated breath he watched till the _kopje_ was blotted from his +sight, and the demons of the storm came shrieking back. Then +suddenly there came a crash that shook the world and made the +senses reel. He heard the rush and swish of water, water +torrential that fell in a streaming mass, and as his understanding +came staggering back he knew that the first, most menacing danger +was past. The cloud had burst upon the _kopje_. + +The thunder was drowned in the rush of the rain. It descended in a +vast sheet through which the lightning leapt and quivered. The +light of day was wholly gone. + +The bungalow rocked on its foundations; the wrath of the tempest +beat around it as if it would sweep it away. The noise of the +falling rain was terrific. He wondered if the place would stand. + +Gradually the first wild fury spent itself, and though the storm +continued the sky seemed to lift somewhat, to recede as if the +swollen clouds were being drawn upwards again. In the glimmering +lightning the _veldt_ shone like a sea. The water must be deep in +the hollows, and he hoped none of the sheep had been caught. The +fact that the farm was on rising ground, though it had been exposed +to the full force of the storm, had been its salvation. He thought +of the Kaffir huts, and dismissed the idea of any serious danger +there. The stables, too, were safe for the same reason. It was +only on the lower ground beyond the _kopje_ that the flood could be +formidable. He thought of the watercourse, dry for so many weeks, +now without doubt a seething torrent. He thought with a sudden +leap of memory of the hut on the sand above. . . . + +"I shall go there to-day." How long was it since he had heard +those words? Had they indeed been uttered only that morning? Or +did they belong to an entirely different period of his life? He +felt as if many empty and bitter years had passed over him since +they had been spoken. Was it indeed but that morning that the +boy's eyes with their fierce appeal had looked into his--and he had +given him that stern command to await his coming? + +His hand went up to the fastening of the window. He knew Guy. +There was a strain of honour in his nature which nothing could ever +change. He would keep that sort of appointment or die in the +attempt. If he still lived--if that frightful cloudburst had not +overwhelmed him--he was there waiting above the raging torrent. + +The rain beat with a deafening rattle upon the roof of the _stoep_. +It was falling perfectly straight now as if a million taps were +running. And another memory flashed upon Burke as he stepped +forth,--the memory of a girl who had clung to him in just such +another downpour and begged him not to leave her. He heard the +accents of her voice, felt again the slender youthfulness of her +frame. He flung his arms wide with an anguished gesture. + +Another voice, keen-edged and ruthless, was cutting its way through +his soul, lacerating him, agonizing him. "And they loved each +other. That made all the difference." Ah, God, the bitter +difference that it made! + +He went down the steps up which he had lifted her on that first day +of her coming, and floundered into water that was half way to his +knees. The rain rushed down upon him, beating upon his uncovered +head. He was drenched to the skin in five seconds. + +The lightning flashes were less frequent now, and the darkness in +between less intense. He splashed his way cautiously round the +bungalow to the stable. + +A frightened whinnying greeted him. He heard the animals stamping +in the sodden straw, but the water was not so deep here. It +scarcely covered their hocks. + +He spoke reassuringly to them as he made his way to Diamond, +Sylvia's mount. Diamond had always been a favourite with him since +the day she had laid her face against his nose, refusing to doubt +him. By faith and love! By faith and love! + +He saddled the horse more by feeling than sight, and led him out. +The rain was still beating furiously down, but Diamond did not +flinch with his master's hand upon him. He stood firm while Burke +swung himself up. Then, with the lightning still flashing athwart +the gloom and the thunder rolling in broken echoes all around them, +they went down the track past the _kopje_ to find the hut on the +sand. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE SACRIFICE + +The sound of water, splashing, welling, overflowing, was +everywhere. It was difficult to keep the track, but Diamond trod +warily. He knew the _veldt_ by heart. Passing the _kopje_, the +rush of the water was like the spouting of a thousand springs. It +gurgled and raced over its scarred sides. The prickly pear bushes +hung flattened over the rocks. By the fitful gleam of the +lightning Burke saw these things. The storm was passing, though +the rain still beat down mercilessly. It would probably rain for +many hours; but a faint vague light far down on the unseen horizon +told of a rising moon. It would not be completely dark again. + +They splashed their way past the _kopje_, and immediately a loud +roaring filled his ears. As he had guessed the dry watercourse had +become a foaming torrent. Again a sharp anxiety assailed him. He +spoke to Diamond, and they turned off the track. + +The animal was nervous. He started and quivered at the +unaccustomed sound. But in a moment or two he responded to Burke's +insistence, and went down the sloping ground that led to the +seething water. + +Burke guided him with an unerring hand, holding him up firmly, for +the way was difficult and uneven. A vivid flash of lightning gave +him his direction, and by it he saw a marvellous picture. The +spruit had become a wide, dashing river. The swirl and rush of the +current sounded like a sea at high tide. The flood spread like an +estuary over the _veldt_ on the farther side, and he saw that the +bank nearest to him was brimming. + +The picture was gone in a moment, but it was registered indelibly +upon his brain. And the hut--Guy's hut--was scarcely more than +twenty yards from that swirling river which was rising with every +second. + +"He can't be there," he said aloud. But yet he knew that he could +not turn back till he had satisfied himself on this point. So, +with a word of encouragement to Diamond, he splashed onwards. + +Again the lightning flared torchlike through the gloom, but the +thunder of the torrent drowned the thunder overhead. He was +nearing the hut now, and found that in places the rain had so +beaten down the sandy surface of the ground that it sank and +yielded like a quagmire. He knew that it was only a matter of +minutes--possibly seconds--before the crumbling bank above the +stream gave way. + +He was close to the hut now, though still he assured himself that +the place was empty. The roar of the water was deafening, seeming +to numb the senses. He never knew afterwards whether a light +suddenly kindled as he drew near behind the canvas that screened +the hut-window, or if it had been there all along and the leaping +elusive lightning had blinded him to it. But the light was there +before him as he reached the place, and in a moment the knowledge +flashed upon him beyond all questioning that he had not come upon a +vain quest. + +He knew also with that menacing roar below him and the streaming +rain around that there was not a moment to be lost. He swung +himself from Diamond's back and secured the bridle to a projecting +piece of wood at the back of the hut. Then, floundering and +slipping at every step, he made his way round to the door. + +He groped for some seconds before he found it. It was closed and +he knew that there was no handle on the outside. He battered upon +it with his fist, shouting Guy's name. + +There came no answer to his summons, but the sound of the water +seemed to swell in volume, filling the night. It drove him to a +fierce impatience. If he had not seen the light he would scarcely +have taken the risk. None but a fool would have remained in such a +death-trap. But the presence of the light forced him on. He could +not leave without satisfying himself. He set his shoulder against +the closed door and flung the full weight of his body into one +stupendous effort to force an entrance. + +The wood cracked and splintered with the shock. He felt himself +pitching forward and grabbed at the post to save himself. The door +swung back upon its hinges, and he burst into the hut headlong. + +The flame of a candle glimmered in his eyes, momentarily dazzling +him. Then he heard a cry. A figure sprang towards him--a woman's +figure with outstretched arms waving him back! Was he dreaming? +Was he mad? It was Sylvia's face, white and agonized, that +confronted him--Sylvia's voice, but so strained that he hardly +recognized it, broken and beseeching, imploring him for mercy. + +"Oh, Burke--for God's sake--don't kill him! Don't kill him! I +will kill myself--I swear--if you do." + +He caught the outflung hands, gripping them hard, assuring himself +that this thing was no illusion. He looked into her eyes of wild +appeal. + +She attempted no, further entreaty, but she flung herself against +him, impeding him, holding him back. Over her shoulder he looked +for Guy; and found him. + +He was sitting crouched on a low trestle-bed at the further end of +the hut with his head in his hands. Burke turned to the girl who +stood palpitating, pressed against him, still seeking with all her +strength to oppose his advance. + +Her wide eyes met his. They were filled with a desperate fear. +"He is ill," she said. + +The roar of the rising water filled the place. The ground under +their feet seemed to be shaking. + +Burke looked down at the woman he held, and a deadly sensation +arose and possessed him. For the moment he felt sick with an +overpowering longing. The temptation to take her just as she was +and go was almost more than human endurance could bear. He had +undergone so much for her sake. He had suffered so fiery a +torture. The evil impulse gripped and tore him like a living thing. + +And then--was it the purity of those eyes upraised to his?--he was +conscious of a change within him. It was as if a quieting touch +had been laid upon him. He knew--quite suddenly he knew--what he +would do. The temptation and the anguish went out together like an +extinguished fire. He was his own master. + +He bent to her and spoke, his words clear above the tumult: "Help +me to save him! There is just a chance!" + +He saw the swift change in her eyes. She bent with a sharp +movement, and before he could stop her he felt her lips upon his +hand. They thrilled him with a strange exaltation. The memory of +that kiss would go with him to the very Gate of Death. + +Then he had reached Guy, was bending over him, raising him with +urgent hands. He saw the boy's face for a moment, ashen in the +flickering candlelight, and he knew that the task before him was +one which it would take his utmost strength to accomplish. But he +exerted it and dragged him to his feet, half-supporting, +half-carrying, him towards the open door, Sylvia helping on the +other side. The thought went through him that this was the last +act that they would perform in partnership. And somehow he knew +that she would remember it later in the same way. + +They reached the threshold. Guy was stumbling blindly. He seemed +to be dazed, scarcely conscious of his surroundings. The turmoil +of the water was terrific through the ceaseless rush of the rain. +With heads bent to the storm they forced their way out into the +tumult. + +They found Diamond tramping and snorting with fright at the back of +the hut, but to Burke's brief command and Sylvia's touch he stood +still. + +"Get up!" Burke said to the girl. + +But she started and drew back. "Oh no--no!" she cried back to him. +"I will go on foot." + +He said no more, merely turned and hoisted Guy upwards. He landed +in the saddle, instinctively gripping with his knees while Burke on +one side, Sylvia on the other, set his feet in the stirrups. + +Then still in that utter silence Burke went back to Sylvia. He had +lifted her before she was aware, and for one breathless moment he +held her. Then she also was up on the horse's back. He thrust her +hands away from him, pushing them into Guy's belt with a mastery +that would brook no resistance. + +"Wake up!" he yelled to Guy, and smote him on the thigh as he +dragged the bridle free. + +Then, slipping and sliding on the yielding ground, he pulled the +horse round, gave the rein, into Guy's clutching hand, and struck +the animal smartly on the flank. Diamond squealed and sprang +forward bearing his double burden, and in a moment he was off, +making for the higher ground and the track that led to the farm, +terrified yet blindly following the instinct that does not err. + +The sound of the scrambling, struggling hoofs was lost in the +strife of waters, the swaying figures disappeared in the gloom, and +the man who was left behind turned grimly and went back into the +empty hut. + +The candle still cast a flickering light over table and bed. He +stood with his back to the raging night and stared at the unsteady +flame. It was screened from extinction in the draught by a +standing photograph-frame. The picture this contained was turned +away from him. After a moment it caught his attention. He moved +round the table. Though Death were swooping towards him, swift and +certain, on the wings of the rising current, he was drawn as a +needle to the magnet. Like a dying man, he reached for the last +draught that should slake his thirst and give him peace in dying. + +He leaned upon the table, that creaked and shook beneath his +weight. He stretched forth his arms on each side of the candle, +and drew the portrait close to the flame. Sylvia's face laughed at +him through the shifting, uncertain light. She was standing on a +wind-blown open space. Her lips were parted. He thought he heard +her voice, calling him. And the love in her eyes--the love that +shone through the laughter! It held him like a spell--even though +it was not for him. + +He gazed earnestly upon this thing that had been another man's +treasure long before he had even seen her, and as he gazed, he +forgot all beside. By that supreme sacrifice of self, he had wiped +out all but his exceeding love for her. The spirit had triumphed +over the flesh. Love the Immortal to which Death is but a small +thing had lifted him up above the world. . . . + +What was it that suddenly pierced him as he leaned there? No sound +above that mighty tumult could possibly have reached him. No +movement beyond that single flickering flame could have caught his +vision. No touch was laid upon him. Yet suddenly he jerked +upright with every nerve a-quiver--and beheld her! + +She stood in the doorway, gasping for breath, clinging to the +woodwork for support, with Death behind her, but no fear of Death +in her eyes. They held instead a glory which he had never seen +before. + +He stood and gazed upon her, unbelieving, afraid to move. His lips +formed her name. And, as one who springs from tempest into safe +shelter, Sylvia sprang to him. Her arms were all about him before +he knew that she was not a dream. + +He clasped her then with such a rush of wonder and joy as nearly +deprived him of the power to think. And in that moment their lips +met in a kiss that was close and sacred, uniting each to each +beyond all severance--a soul communion. + +Burke was trembling as she had never known him tremble before. +"Why--have you come back?" he said, as speech returned. + +She answered him swiftly and passionately, clinging faster with the +words: "Because--God knows--I would rather die with you--than--than +live without you! I love you so! Oh, don't you understand?" + +Yes, he understood, though all else were beyond his comprehension. +Never again would he question that amazing truth that had burst +upon him here at the very Gate of Death, changing the whole world. + +He looked down upon her as he held her, the light from the candle +shining through her hair, her vivid face uplifted to his, her eyes +wide and glowing, seeing him alone. No, he needed no words to tell +him that. + +And then suddenly the roar without increased a hundredfold. A +shrieking wind tore past, and in a moment the flickering light went +out. They stood in darkness. + +Her arms clasped his neck more closely. He felt the coming agony +in her hold. She spoke again, her lips against his own. "Through +the grave--and Gate of Death--" she said. + +That aroused him. A strength that was titanic entered into him. +Why should they wait here for Death? At least they would make a +fight for it, however small their chance. He suddenly realized +that mortal life had become desirable again--a thing worth fighting +for--a precious gift. + +He bent, as he had bent on that first night at the farm--how long +ago!--and gathered her up into his arms. + +A rush of water swirled about his knees as he made for the dim +opening. The bank had gone. Yet the rise in the ground would give +them a few seconds. He counted upon the chance. Out into the open +he stumbled. + +The water was up to his waist here. He floundered on the yielding +ground. + +"Don't carry me!" she said. "I can wade too. Let me hold your +hand!" + +But he would not let her go out of his arms. His strength in that +moment was as the strength of ten. He knew that unless the flood +actually overwhelmed him, it would not fail. + +So, slipping, struggling, fighting, he forced his way, and, like +Diamond, he was guided by an instinct that could not err. Thirty +seconds after they left it, the hut on the sand was swept away by +the hungry waters, but those thirty seconds had been their +salvation. They had reached the point where the ground began to +rise towards the _kopje_, and though the water still washed around +them the force of it was decreasing at every step, + +As they reached the foot of the _kopje_ itself, a stream of +moonlight suddenly rushed down through the racing clouds, revealing +the whole great waste of water like a picture flung upon a screen. + +Burke's breath came thick and laboured; yet he spoke. "We are +saved!" he said. + +"Put me down now!" she urged. "Please put me down!" + +But still he would not, till he had climbed above the seething +flood, and could set her feet upon firm ground. And even then he +clasped her still, as if he feared to let her go. + +They stood in silence, holding fast to one another while the +moonlight flickered in and out, and Burke's heart gradually +steadied again after the terrific struggle. The rain had almost +ceased. Only the sound of the flood below and the gurgle of a +hundred rivulets around filled the night. + +Sylvia's arm pressed upon Burke's neck. "Shall we go--right to the +top?" she said. + +"The top of what?" He turned and looked into her eyes as she stood +above him. + +She bent to him swiftly, throbbing, human, alive. She held his +face between her hands, looking straight back for a space. Then +with a little quivering laugh, she bent lower and kissed him. + +"I think you're right, partner," she said. "We don't need to +go--any farther than this. We've--got there." + +He caught her to him with a mastery that was dearer to her in that +moment than any tenderness, swaying her to his will. "Yes--we've +got there!" he said, and kissed her again with lips that trembled +even while they compelled. "But oh, my soul--what a journey!" + +She clung to him more closely, giving of her all in full and sweet +surrender. "And oh, my soul," she laughed back softly--"what an +arrival!" + +And at that they laughed together, triumphant as those who have the +world at their feet. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +BY FAITH AND LOVE + +The flood went down in the morning, and behind it there sprang into +being a new world of softest, tenderest green in place of the +brown, parched desert that had been. Mary Ann stood at the door of +her hut and looked at it with her goggle-eyes in which the fright +of the storm was still very apparent. + +Neither she nor her satellites would go near the house of the +_baas_ that morning, for a dread shadow lay upon it into which they +dared not venture. The _baas_ himself was there. He had driven +her into the cooking-hut a little earlier and compelled her to +prepare a hot meal under his stern supervision. But even the +_baas_ could not have forced her to enter the bungalow. For by +some occult means Mary Ann knew that Death was waiting there, and +the wrath of the gods was so recent that she had not courage left +for this new disaster. + +Diamond had brought his burden safely out of the storm, and was now +comfortably sheltered in his own stable. But the man who had +ridden him had been found hours later by the big _baas_ face +downwards on the _stoep_, and now he lay in the room in which he +had lain for so long, with breathing that waxed and waned and +sometimes stopped, and eyes that wandered vaguely round as though +seeking something which they might never find. + +What were they looking for? Sylvia longed to know. In the hush of +that room with the light of the early morning breaking through, it +seemed to her that those eyes were mutely waiting for a message +from Beyond. They did not know her even when they rested upon her +face. + +She herself was worn out both physically and mentally, but she +would not leave him. And so Burke had brought in the long chair +for her and made her lie down while she watched. He brought her +food also, and they ate together in the quiet room where the +ever-changing breathing of the man upon the bed was the only sound. + +He would have left them alone then, but she whispered to him to +come back. + +He came and bent over her. "I'll smoke on the _stoep_," he said. +"You have only to raise your voice if you want-me, and I shall +hear." + +She slipped her arms about his neck, and drew him down to her. "I +want you--all the time," she whispered. + +He kissed her on lips and hair, but he would not stay. She heard +him pass out on to the _stoep_, and there fell a deep silence. + +It seemed to lap her round like a vast and soundless sea. +Presently she was drifting upon it, sometimes dipping under, +sometimes bringing herself to the surface with a deliberate effort +of the will, lest Guy should come back and need her. She was +unutterably tired, and the rest was balm to her weary soul, but +still, she fought against complete repose, until, like the falling +of a mist, oblivion came at last very softly upon her, and she sank +into the deeps of slumber. . . . + +It must have been some time later that something spoke within her, +recalling her. She raised herself quickly and looked at Guy to +find his eyes no longer roving but fixed upon her. She thought his +breathing must be easier, for he spoke without effort. + +"Fetch Burke!" he said. + +She started up to obey. There was that about Guy at the moment +which she had never seen before, a curious look of knowledge, a +strength new-born that, was purely spiritual. But ere she reached +the window, Burke was there. He came straight in and went to Guy. +And she knew that the end was very near. + +Instinctively she drew back as the two men met. She had a strong +feeling that her presence was not needed, was almost an intrusion. +Yet she could not bring herself to go, till suddenly Burke turned +to her and drew her forward. + +"He wants you to say good-bye to him," he said, "and then--to go." + +It was very tenderly spoken. His hand pressed her shoulder, and +the pressure was reassuring, infinitely sustaining. + +She bent over Guy. He looked straight up at her, and though the +mystery of Death was in his eyes they held no fear. They even +faintly smiled upon her. + +"Good-bye, darling!" he said softly. "Think of me sometimes--when +you've nothing better to do!" + +She found and clasped his hand. "Often!" she whispered. "Very +often!" + +His fingers pressed hers weakly. "I wish--I'd made good," he said. + +She bent lower over him. "Ah, never mind now!" she said. "That is +all over--forgiven long ago." + +His eyes still sought hers with that strange intentness. "I never +loved---anyone but you, Sylvia," he said. "You'll remember that. +It's the only thing in all my life worth remembering. Now go, +darling! Go and rest! I've got--to talk to Burke--alone." + +She kissed him on the forehead, and then, a moment later, on the +lips. She knew as she went from him that she would never hear his +voice again on earth. + + * * * * * + +She went to her own room and stood at the window gazing out upon +that new green world that but yesterday had been a desert. The +thought of her dream came upon her, but the bitterness and the +fears were all gone from her heart. The thing she had dreaded so +unspeakably had come and passed. The struggle between the two men +on that path which could hold but one was at an end. The greater +love had triumphed over the lesser, but even so the lesser had not +perished. Dimly she realized that Guy's broken life had not been +utterly cast away. It seemed to her that already--there at the +Gate of Death--he had risen again. And she knew that her agonized +prayer had found an answer at last. Guy was safe. + +It was a long time before Burke came to her. When he did, it was +to find her in a chair by the window with her head pillowed on the +table, sunk in sleep. But she awoke at his coming, looking at him +swiftly with a question in her eyes which his as swiftly answered. +He came and knelt beside her, and gathered her into his arms. + +She clung to him closely for a while in silence, finding peace and +great comfort in his hold. Then at length, haltingly she spoke. + +"Burke,--you--forgave him?" + +"Yes," he said. + +She lifted her face and kissed his neck. "Burke, you +understand--I--couldn't forsake him--then?" + +"I understand," he said, drawing her nearer. "You couldn't forsake +anyone in trouble." + +"Oh, not just that," she said. "I loved him so. I couldn't help +it. I--had to love him." + +He was silent for a few seconds, and the wonder stirred within her +if perhaps even now he could misunderstand her. And then he spoke, +his voice very low, curiously uneven. "I know. I loved him, too. +That was--the hell of it--for me." + +"Oh, Burke--darling!" she said. + +He drew a hard breath, controlling himself with an effort. "I'd +have cut off my right hand to save him, but it was no good. It +came to me afterwards--that you were the one who might have done +it. But it was too late then. Besides--besides--" he spoke as if +something within him battled fiercely for utterance--"I couldn't +have endured it--standing by. Not you--not you!" + +She put up a hand, and stroked his face. "I belonged to you from +the first moment I saw you," she said. + +"Sylvia!" He moved abruptly, taking her by the shoulders so that +he might look into her eyes. "That is--the truth?" he said. + +She met his look steadfastly. "Of course it is the truth!" she +said. "Could I tell you anything else?" + +He held her still. "But--Sylvia----" + +Her hands were clasped against his breast. "It is the truth," she +said again. "I didn't realize it myself at first. It came to +me--quite suddenly--that day of the sand-storm--the day Guy saved +your life." + +"Ah!" he said. + +She went on with less assurance. "It frightened me--when I knew. +I was so afraid you would find out." + +"But why?" he said. "Why?" + +She shook her head, and suddenly her eyes fell before his. She +looked almost childishly ashamed. + +"Won't you tell me why?" he said. + +She made a small, impulsive movement of protest. "I +didn't--quite--trust you," she said. + +"But you knew I loved you!" he said. + +She shook her head again with vehemence. "I didn't know--I didn't +know! How could I? Why, you have never told me so--even now." + +"Great heavens!" he said, as if aghast. + +Very oddly his unexpected discomfiture restored her confidence. +She faced him again. "It doesn't matter now," she said. "You +needn't begin at this stage. I've found out for myself--as you +might have done long ago if you hadn't been quite blind. But I'm +rather glad, after all, that you didn't, because--you learnt to +trust me without. It was dear of you to trust me, Burke. I don't +know how you managed it." + +"I would trust you to the world's end--blindfold," he said. "I +know you." + +"Yes, now. But you didn't then. When you found me in the +hut--with Guy," her voice quivered a little--"you didn't +know--then--that I was with him because he was too ill to be there +alone." + +"And to protect him from me," Burke said. + +"Yes; that too." She laid her cheek suddenly against his hand. +"Forgive me for that!" she said. + +He drew her head back to his shoulder. "No--you had reason enough +for fearing me," he said. "God alone knows what brought you back +to me." + +She leaned against him with a little sigh. "Yes, He knows," she +said softly, "just as He knows what made you stay behind to die +alone. It was the same reason with us both. Don't you understand?" + +His arms grew close about her. His lips pressed her forehead. +"Yes," he said. "Yes, I understand." + +They spoke later of Kieff and the evil influence he had exerted +over Guy. + +"The man was his evil genius," Burke said. "But I couldn't keep +him away when the boy was damaged and there was no one else to +help." He paused a moment. "He was the only man in the world I was +ever afraid of," he said then. "He had an uncanny sort of strength +that I couldn't cope with. And he was such a fiend. When he tried +to get you into his toils--frankly, I was terrified. He had +dragged down so many," + +"And you think--Guy--might have been different but for him?" Sylvia +questioned. + +"Yes. I believe I could have kept him straight if it hadn't been +for Kieff. He and Piet Vreiboom were thick as thieves, and between +them the boy got pulled under. I was beat, and Kelly, too." + +"Mr. Kelly!" Sylvia gave a slight start; that name reminded her. +"Burke, do you know--I owe him money? I've got to tell you about +that." + +She paused in rather painful hesitation; it was hard to tell him +even now what she had sacrificed so much to hide. + +But he stopped her. "No. You needn't. I know all about it. I +put Kelly up to the job. The money was mine." + +"Burke!" She stared at him in astonishment. "You--knew!" + +He nodded. "I guessed a little. And I made Donovan do the rest. +You were so upset about it. Something had to be done." + +"Oh, Burke!" she said again. + +He went on. "Guy told me all about it too--only a little while +ago. He made a clean breast of everything. He was--awfully +penitent. Look here! We'll forget all that, won't we? Promise me +you'll forget it!" He spoke rapidly, just as Guy would have spoken. +She saw that he was deeply moved. "I was a devil ever to doubt +you. I want to be sure--to be certain sure--that you'll never +think of it again--that you'll forget it all--as if it had never +been." + +The earnest appeal in his eyes almost startled her. It brought the +quick tears to her own. She gave him both her hands. "I shall +only remember--one thing," she said. "And that is--your great +goodness to me--from beginning to end." + +He made a sound of dissent, but she would not hear. + +"I am going to remember that always, for it is the biggest thing in +my life. And now, Burke, please tell me--for I've got to know--are +we quite ruined?" + +He gave her an odd look. "What made you think of that?" + +She coloured a little. "I don't know. I have been thinking about +it a great deal lately. Anyhow," she met his look almost +defiantly, "I've a right to think of it, haven't I? We're +partners." + +"You've a right to do anything that seems good to you," he said. +"I am not absolutely down and out, but I'm pretty near it. There +isn't much left." + +She squeezed his hands hard, hearing the news with no hint of +dismay. Her eyes were shining with the old high courage. "Never +mind, partner! We'll pull up again," she said. "We're a sound +working proposition, aren't we?" + +He drew her suddenly and closely into his arms. "My own brave +girl!" he said. + + * * * * * + +Bill Merston came over in the evening, summoned by one of Burke's +Kaffirs, and they buried Guy under the shadow of the _kopje_ in +what in a few more days would be a paradise of flowers. The sun +was setting far away in an opalescent glow of mauve and pink and +pearl. And the beauty of it went straight to Sylvia's heart. + +She listened to the Burial Service, read by Merston in his simple +sincere fashion, and she felt as if all grief or regret were +utterly out of place. She and Burke, standing hand in hand, had +been lifted above earthly things. And again there came to her the +thrilling certainty that Guy was safe. She wondered if, in his own +words, he had forgotten it all and started afresh. + +Merston could not stay for the night. He looked at Sylvia rather +questioningly at parting. + +She smiled in answer as she gave him her hand. "Give my love to +Matilda!" she said. "Say I am coming to see her soon!" + +"Is that all?" he said. + +She nodded. "Yes, that's all. No--one thing more!" She detained +him a moment. "Thank her for all she has done for me, and tell her +I have found the right mixture at last! She will understand, +or--if she doesn't--I will give her the recipe when I come." + +He frowned at her with masculine curiosity. "What is it for? A +new kind of pickles?" + +She turned from him. Her face was deeply flushed. "No. It's a +thing called happiness. Don't forget to tell her! Good-bye!^ + +"Then in heaven's name, come soon!" said Merston, as he mounted his +horse. + + * * * * * + +When he was gone, they mounted the _kopje_ together, still hand in +hand. + +The way was steep, but they never rested till they reached the top. +The evening light was passing, but the sky was full of stars. The +_spruit_ was a swift-flowing river below them. They heard the rush +of its waters--a solemn music that seemed to fill the world. + +Sylvia turned her face to the north, and the long, dim range of +hills beyond the _veldt_. + +"We will go beyond some day," Burke said. + +She held his hand very fast. "I don't mind where we go, partner, +so long as we go together," she said. + +He drew something out of his pocket and held it out to her. "I've +got to give you this," he said. + +She looked at him in surprise. "Burke! What is it?" + +"It's something Guy left to you," he said, "with his love. I +promised to give it you to-night. Take it, won't you?" + +She took it, a small object wrapped in paper, strangely heavy for +its size. "What is it?" she said again. + +"Open it!" he said. + +She complied, trembling a little. "Oh--Burke!" she said. + +It lay in her hand, a rough stone like a small crystal, oddly +shaped. The last of the evening light caught it, and it gleamed as +if with living fire. + +"The diamond!" she whispered. + +"Yes--the diamond." Burke spoke very quietly. "He gave it to me +just before he died. 'Tell her she is not to keep it!' he said. +'She is to sell it. I won it for her, and she is to make use of +it.'" + +"But--it is yours really," Sylvia said. + +"No. It is yours." Burke spoke with insistence. "But I think he +is right. You had better sell it. Vreiboom and some of +Hoffstein's gang are after it. They don't know yet who won it. +Donovan covered Guy's tracks pretty cleverly. But they'll find +out. It isn't a thing to keep." + +She turned to him impulsively. "You take it, partner!" she said. +"It was won with your money, and no one has a greater right to it." + +"It is yours," he insisted. + +She smiled. "Very well. If it's mine, I give it to you; and if +it's yours you share it with me. We are partners, aren't we? +Isn't that what Guy intended?" + +He smiled also. "Well--perhaps." + +She put it into his hand and closed his fingers over it. "There's +no perhaps about it. We'll take it back to Donovan, and make him +sell it. And when we've done that--" She paused. + +"Yes?" he said. + +She pushed her hand through his arm. "Would it bore you very much, +partner, to take me back to England--just--for a little while? I +want to see my daddy again and tell him how happy I am. He'll like +to know." + +"Of course I will take you," he said. + +"Thank you." Her hand pressed his arm. "And then we'll come back +here. I want to come back here, Burke. It isn't--a land of +strangers to me any more. It's just--the top of the world. Shall +I tell you--would you like me to tell you--how we managed to get +here?" + +His arm went round her. "I think I know." + +She turned her face to his. "By faith--and love, my darling," she +said. "There is--no other way. You taught me that." + +He kissed her fervently, with lips that trembled. "I love you with +my whole soul," he told her, with sudden passion. "God knows how I +love you!" + +She gave herself to him with a little quivering laugh. "Do you +know, partner," she said, "I wanted you to tell me that? I've been +wanting it--for ever so long." + +And they were nearer to the stars above them in that moment than to +the world that lay at their feet. + + + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Top of the World, by Ethel M. Dell + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12360 *** diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..945cf13 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #12360 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12360) diff --git a/old/12360.txt b/old/12360.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f924114 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/12360.txt @@ -0,0 +1,15079 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Top of the World, by Ethel M. Dell + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Top of the World + +Author: Ethel M. Dell + +Release Date: May 15, 2004 [EBook #12360] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TOP OF THE WORLD *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + +THE TOP OF THE WORLD + +By + +Ethel M. Dell + + + +Author of "The Way of an Eagle," "The Lamp in the Desert." + + + +1920 + + + + +I DEDICATE THIS BOOK + +TO THE PRECIOUS MEMORY + +OF MY MOTHER + + + + +"The years shall not outgo my thinking of thee" + + + + + When you have reached the top of the world + And only the stars remain, + Where there is never the sound of storm + And neither cold nor rain, + Will it be by wealth, success, or fame + That you mounted to your goal? + Nay, I mount only by faith and love + And God's goodness to my soul. + + When you have reached the top of the world + And the higher stars grow near, + When greater dreams succeed our dreams + And the lesser disappear, + Will the world at your feet seem good to you, + A vision fair to see? + Nay, I look upward for one I love + Who has promised to wait for me. + + For to those who reach the top of the world + The things of the world seem less + Than the rungs of the ladder by which they climbed + To their place of happiness, + And I think that success and wealth and fame + Will be the first to pall, + For they reach their goal but by faith and love + And God's goodness over all. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +PART I + +CHAPTER + + I.--ADVICE + II.--THE NEW MISTRESS + III.--THE WHIP-HAND + IV.--THE VICTORY + V.--THE MIRACLE + VI.--THE LAND OF STRANGERS + VII.--THE WRONG TURNING + VIII.--THE COMRADE + IX.--THE ARRIVAL + X.--THE DREAM + XI.--THE CROSS-ROADS + XII.--THE STAKE + + +PART 11 + + I.--COMRADES + II.--THE VISITORS + III.--THE BARGAIN + IV.--THE CAPTURE + V.--THE GOOD CAUSE + VI.--THE RETURN + VII.--THE GUEST + VIII.--THE INTERRUPTION + IX.--THE ABYSS + X.--THE DESIRE TO LIVE + XI.--THE REMEDY + + +PART III + + I.--THE NEW ERA + II.--INTO BATTLE + III.--THE SEED + IV.--MIRAGE + V.--EVERYBODY'S FRIEND + VI.--THE HERO + VII.--THE NET + VIII.--THE SUMMONS + IX.--FOR THE SAKE OF THE OLD LOVE + X.--THE BEARER OF EVIL TIDINGS + XI.--THE SHARP CORNER + XII.--THE COST + + +PART IV + + I.--SAND OF THE DESERT + II.--THE SKELETON TREE + III.--THE PUNISHMENT + IV.--THE EVIL THING + V.--THE LAND OF BLASTED HOPES + VI.--THE PARTING + VII.--PIET VREIBOOM + VIII.--OUT OF THE DEPTHS + IX.--THE MEETING + X.--THE TRUTH + XI.--THE STORM + XII.--THE SACRIFICE + XIII.--BY FAITH AND LOVE + + + + +The Top of the World + + +PART I + +CHAPTER I + +ADVICE + +"You ought to get married, Miss Sylvia," said old Jeffcott, the +head gardener, with a wag of his hoary beard. "You'll need to be +your own mistress now." + +"I should hope I am that anyway," said, Sylvia with a little laugh. + +She stood in the great vinery--a vivid picture against a background +of clustering purple fruit. The sunset glinted on her tawny hair. +Her red-brown eyes, set wide apart, held a curious look, half +indignant, half appealing. + +Old Jeffcott surveyed her with loving admiration. There was no one +in the world to compare with Miss Sylvia in his opinion. He loved +the open English courage of her, the high, inborn pride of race. +Yet at the end of the survey he shook his head. + +"There's not room for two mistresses in this establishment, Miss +Sylvia," he said wisely. "Three years to have been on your own, so +to speak, is too long. You did ought to get married, Miss Sylvia. +You'll find it's the only way." + +His voice took on almost a pleading note. He knew it was possible +to go too far. + +But the girl facing him was still laughing. She evidently felt no +resentment. + +"You see, Jeffcott," she said, "there's only one man in the world I +could marry. And he's not ready for me yet." + +Jeffcott wagged his beard again commiseratingly. "So you've never +got over it, Miss Sylvia? Your feelings is still the same--after +five years?" + +"Still the same," said Sylvia. There was a momentary challenge in +her bright eyes, but it passed. "It couldn't be any different," +she said softly. "No one else could ever come anywhere near him." + +Jeffcott sighed aloud. "I know he were a nice young gentleman," he +conceded. "But I've seen lots as good before and since. He +weren't nothing so very extraordinary, Miss Sylvia." + +Sylvia's look went beyond him, seeming to rest upon something very +far away. "He was to me, Jeffcott," she said. "We just--fitted +each other, he and I." + +"And you was only eighteen," pleaded Jeffcott, "You wasn't +full-grown in those days." + +"No?" A quick sigh escaped her; her look came back to him, and she +smiled. "Well, I am now anyway; and that's the one thing that +hasn't altered or grown old--the one thing that never could." + +"Ah, dear!" said old Jeffcott. "What a pity now as you couldn't +take up with young Mr. Eversley or that Mr. Preston over the way, +or--or--any of them young gents with a bit of property as might be +judged suitable!" + +Sylvia's laugh rang through the vinery, a gay, infectious laugh. + +"Oh, really, Jeffcott! You talk as if I had only got to drop my +handkerchief for the whole countryside to rush to pick it up! I'm +not going to take up with anyone, unless it's Mr. Guy Ranger. You +don't seem to realize that we've been engaged all this time." + +"Ah!" said old Jeffcott, looking sardonic. "And you not met for +five years! Do you ever wonder to yourself what sort of a man he +may be after five years, Miss Sylvia? It's a long time for a young +man to keep in love at a distance. It's a very long time." + +"It's a long time for both of us," said Sylvia. "But it hasn't +altered us in that respect." + +"It's been a longer time for him than it has for you," said +Jeffcott shrewdly. "I'll warrant he's lived every minute of it. +He's the sort that would." + +Sylvia's wide brows drew together in a little frown. She had +caught the note of warning in the old man's words, and she did not +understand it. + +"What do you mean, Jeffcott?" she said, with a touch of sharpness. + +But Jeffcott backed out of the vinery and out of the discussion at +the same moment. "You'll know what I mean one day, Miss Sylvia," +he said darkly, "when you're married." + +"Silly old man!" said Sylvia, taking up the cluster of grapes for +which she had come and departing in the opposite direction. +Jeffcott was a faithful old servant, but he could be very +exasperating when he liked. + +The gardens were bathed in the evening sunlight as she passed +through them on her way to the house. The old Manor stood out grey +and ancient against an opal sky. She looked up at it with loving +eyes. Her home meant very much to Sylvia Ingleton. Until the last +six months she had always regarded it as her own life-long +possession. For she was an only child, and for the past three +years she had been its actual mistress, though virtually she had +held the reins of government longer than that. Her mother had been +delicate for as long as she could remember, and it was on account +of her failing health that Sylvia had left school earlier than had +been intended, that she might be with her. Since Mrs. Ingleton's +death, three years before, she and her father had lived alone +together at the old Manor in complete accord. They had always been +close friends, the only dissension that had ever arisen between +them having been laid aside by mutual consent. + +That dissension had been caused by Guy Ranger. Five years before, +when Sylvia had been only eighteen, he had flashed like a meteor +through her sky, and no other star had ever shone for her again. +Though seven years older than herself, he was little more than a +boy, full of gaiety and life, possessing an extraordinary +fascination, but wholly lacking in prospects, being no more than +the son of Squire Ingleton's bailiff. + +The Rangers were people of good yeoman extraction, and Guy himself +had had a public school education, but the fact of their position +was an obstacle which the squire had found insuperable. Only his +love for his daughter had restrained him from violent measures. +But Sylvia had somehow managed to hold him, how no one ever knew, +for he was a man of fiery temper. And the end of if it had been +that Guy had been banished to join a cousin farming in South Africa +on the understanding that if he made a success of it he might +eventually return and ask Sylvia to be his wife. There was to be +no engagement between them, and if she elected to marry in the +meantime so much the better, in the squire's opinion. He had had +little doubt that Sylvia would marry when she had had time to +forget some of the poignancy of first love. But in this he had +been mistaken. Sylvia had steadfastly refused every lover who had +come her way. + +He had found another billet for old Ranger, and had installed a +dour Scotchman in his place. But Sylvia still corresponded with +young Guy, still spoke of him as the man she meant to marry. It +was true she did not often speak of him, but that might have been +through lack of sympathetic listeners. There was, moreover, about +her an innate reserve which held her back where her deepest +feelings were concerned. But her father knew, and she meant him to +know, that neither time nor distance had eradicated the image of +the man she loved from her heart. The days on which his letters +reached her were always marked with a secret gladness, albeit the +letters themselves held sometimes little more than affectionate +commentary upon her own. + +That Guy was making his way and that he would eventually return to +her were practical certainties in her young mind. If his letters +contained little to support this belief, she yet never questioned +it for a moment. Guy was the sort to get on. She was sure of it. +And he was worth waiting for. Oh, she could afford to be patient +for Guy. She did not, moreover, believe that her father would hold +out for ever. Also, and secretly this thought buoyed her up in +rare moments of depression, in another two years--when she was +twenty-five--she would inherit some money from her mother. It was +not a very large sum, but it would be enough to render her +independent. It would very greatly increase her liberty of action. +She had little doubt that the very fact of it would help to +overcome her father's prejudices and very considerably modify his +attitude. + +So, in a fashion, she had during the past three years come to +regard her twenty-fifth birthday as a milestone in her life. She +would be patient till it came, but then--at last--if circumstances +permitted, she would take her fate into her own hands, She +would--at last--assume the direction of her own life. + +So she had planned, but so it was not to be. Her fate had already +begun to shape itself in a fashion that was little to her liking. +Travelling with her father in the North earlier in the summer, she +had met with a slight accident which had compelled her to make the +acquaintance of a lady staying at the same hotel whom she had +disliked at the outset and always sought to avoid. This lady, Mrs. +Emmott, was a widow with no settled home. Profiting by +circumstances she had attached herself to Sylvia and her father, +and now she was the latter's wife. + +How it had come about, even now Sylvia scarcely realized. The +woman's intentions had barely begun to dawn upon her before they +had become accomplished fact. Her father's attitude throughout had +amazed her, so astoundingly easy had been his capture. He was +infatuated, possibly for the first time in his life, and no +influence of hers could remove the spell. + +Sylvia's feelings for Mrs. Emmott passed very rapidly from dislike +to active detestation. Her iron strength of will, combined with an +almost blatant vulgarity, gave the girl a sense of being borne down +by an irresistible weight. Very soon her aversion became such that +it was impossible to conceal it. And Mrs. Emmott laughed in her +face. She hated Sylvia too, but she looked forward to subduing the +unbending pride that so coldly withstood her, and for the sake of +that she kept her animosity in check. She knew her turn would come. + +Meantime, she concentrated all her energies upon the father, and +with such marked success that within two months of their meeting +they were married. Sylvia had gone to that wedding in such +bitterness of soul and seething inward revolt as she had never +experienced before. She did not know how she had come through it, +so great had been her disgust. But that was nearly six weeks ago, +and she had had time to recover. She had spent part of that period +very peacefully and happily at the seaside with a young married +cousin and her babies, and it had rested and refreshed her. She +had come back with a calm resolve to endure what had to be endured +in a philosophical spirit, to face the inevitable without futile +rebellion. + +Girt in an impenetrable armour of reserve, she braced herself to +bear her burdens unflinching, so that none might ever guess how it +galled her. And on that golden evening in September she prepared +herself with a smiling countenance to meet her enemy in the gate. + +They were returning from a prolonged honeymoon among the Italian +lakes, and she had made everything ready for their coming. The +great west-facing bedroom, which her father had never occupied +since her mother's death, had been redecorated and prepared as for +a bride. Sylvia had changed it completely, so that it might never +again look as it had looked in the old days. She had hated doing +it, but it had been in a measure a relief to her torn heart. It +was thus she rendered inviolate that inner sanctuary of memory +which none might enter. + +As she passed along the terrace in the golden glow, the slight +frown was still upon her brow. It had been such a difficult time. +Her one ray of comfort had been the thought of Guy, dear, faithful +lover working for her far away. And now old Jeffcott had cast a +shade even upon that. But then he did not really know Guy. No one +knew him as she knew him. She quickened her steps a little. +Possibly there might be a letter from him that evening. + +There was. She spied it lying on the hall table as she entered. +Eagerly she went forward and picked it up. But as she did so there +came the sound of a car in the drive before the open front door, +and quickly she thrust it away in the folds of her dress. The +travellers had returned. + +With a resolutely smiling face she went to meet them. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE NEW MISTRESS + +"Here is our dear Sylvia!" said Mrs. Ingleton. + +She embraced the girl with much _empressement_, and then, before +Sylvia could reach her father, turned and embraced him herself. + +"So very nice to be home, dear!" she said effusively. "We shall be +very happy here." + +Gilbert Ingleton bestowed a somewhat embarrassed salute upon her, +one eye on his daughter. She greeted him sedately the next moment, +and though her face was smiling, her welcome seemed to be frozen at +its source; it held no warmth. + +Mrs. Ingleton, tall, handsome, assertive, cast an appraising eye +around the oak-panelled hall. "Dear me! What severe splendour!" +she commented. "I have a great love for cosiness myself. We must +scatter some of those sweet little Italian ornaments about, +Gilbert. You won't know the place when I have done with it. I am +going to take you all in hand and bring you up-to-date." + +Her keen dark eyes rested upon her step-daughter with a smile of +peculiar meaning. Sylvia met them with the utmost directness. + +"We like simplicity," she said. + +Mrs. Ingleton pursed her lips, "Oh, but there is simplicity and +simplicity! Give me warmth, homeliness, and plenty of pretty +things. This place is archaically cold--quite like a convent. And +you, my dear, might be the Sister Superior from your air. Now, +Gilbert darling, you and I are going to be very firm with this +child. I can plainly see she needs a guiding hand. She has had +much too much responsibility for so young a girl. We are going to +alter all that. We are going to make her very happy--as well as +good." + +She tapped Sylvia's shoulder with smiling significance, looking at +her husband to set his seal to the declaration. + +Mr. Ingleton was obviously feeling very uncomfortable. He glanced +at Sylvia almost appealingly. + +"I hope we are all going to be happy," he said rather gruffly. +"Don't see why we shouldn't be, I'm sure. I like a quiet life +myself. Got some tea for us, Sylvia?" + +Sylvia turned, stiffly unresponsive to her step-mother's +blandishments. "This way," she said, and crossed the hall to the +drawing-room. + +It was a beautiful room aglow just then with the rays of the +western sun. Mrs. Ingleton looked all around her with smiling +criticism, and nodded to herself as if seeing her way to many +improvements. She walked to the windows. + +"What a funny, old-fashioned garden! Quite medieval! I foresee a +very busy time in store. Who lives on the other side of this +property?" + +"Preston--George Preston, the M.F.H.," said her husband, lounging +up behind her. "About the richest man about here. Made his money +on the Turf." + +She gave him a quick look. "Is he young?" she asked. + +He hesitated, "Not very." + +"Married?" questioned Mrs. Ingleton, with the air of a ferret +pursuing its quarry down a hole. + +"No," said the squire, somewhat reluctantly. + +"Ah!" said Mrs. Ingleton, in a tone of satisfaction. + +"Won't you have some tea?" said Sylvia's grave voice behind them. + +Mrs. Ingleton wheeled. "Bless the child!" she exclaimed. "She has +a face as long as a fiddle. Let us have tea by all means. I am as +hungry as a hunter. I hope there is something really substantial +for us." + +"It is less than an hour to dinner," said Sylvia. + +She hardly looked at her father. Somehow she had a feeling that he +did not want to meet her eyes. + +He sat in almost unbroken silence while she poured out the tea, +"for the last time, dear," as her step-mother jocosely remarked, +and for his sake alone she exerted herself to make polite +conversation with this new mistress of the Manor. + +It was not easy, for Mrs. Ingleton did not want to talk upon +indifferent subjects. Her whole attitude was one of unconcealed +triumph. It was obvious that she meant to enjoy her conquest to +the utmost. She was not in the least tired after her journey; she +was one of those people who never tire. And as soon as she had +refreshed herself with tea she announced her intention of going +round the house. + +Her husband, however, intervened upon this point, assuring her that +there would be ample time in the morning, and Mrs. Ingleton yielded +it not very gracefully. + +She was placed at the head of the table at dinner, but she could +not accept the position without comment. + +"Poor little Sylvia! We shall have to make up for this, or I shall +never be forgiven," with an arch look at the squire which +completely missed its mark. + +There were no subtleties about Gilbert Ingleton. He was thoroughly +uncomfortable, and his manner proclaimed the fact aloud. If he +were happy with his enchantress away from home, the home atmosphere +completely dispelled all enchantment. Was it the fault of the +slim, erect girl with the red-brown eyes who sat so gravely silent +on his right hand? + +He could not in justice accuse her, and yet the strong sense of her +disapproval irritated him. What right had she, his daughter, to +sit in judgment upon him? Surely he was entitled to act for +himself--choose his own course--make his own hell if he wished! It +was all quite unanswerable. He knew she would not have attempted +to answer if he had put it to her, but that very fact made him the +more sore. He hated to feel himself at variance with Sylvia. + +"Can't you play something?" he said to her in desperation as they +entered the drawing-room after dinner. + +She looked at bun, her wide brows slightly raised. + +"Well?" he questioned impatiently. + +"Ask--Mrs. Ingleton first!" she said in a rapid whisper. + +Mrs. Ingleton caught it, however. She had the keen senses of a +lynx. "Now, Sylvia, my child, come here!" she commanded playfully. +"I can't have you calling me that, you know. If we are going to +live together, we must have absolutely clear understanding between +us on all points. Don't you agree with me, Gilbert?" + +Ingleton growled something unintelligible, and made for the open +window. + +"Don't go!" said his wife with a touch of peremptoriness. "I want +you here. Tell this dear child that as I have determined to be a +mother to her she is to address me as such!" + +Ingleton barely paused. "You must settle that between yourselves," +he said gruffly. "And for heaven's sake, don't fight over it!" + +He passed heavily forth, and Sylvia, after a very brief hesitation, +sat down in a chair facing her step-mother. + +"I am sorry," she said quietly. "But I can't call you Mother. +Anything else you like to suggest, but not that." + +Mrs. Ingleton uttered an unpleasant laugh. "I hope you are going +to try and be sensible, my dear," she said, "for I assure you +high-flown sentiment does not appeal to me in the very least. As +head of your father's house, I must insist upon being treated with +due respect. Let me warn you at the outset, though quite willing +to befriend you, I am not a very patient woman. I am not prepared +to put up with any slights." + +Her voice lifted gradually as she proceeded till she ended upon a +note that was almost shrill. + +Sylvia sat very still. Her hands were clasped tightly about her +knee. Her face was pale, and the red-brown eyes glittered a +little, but she betrayed no other signs of emotion, + +"I quite understand," she said after a moment. "But that doesn't +solve the present difficulty, does it? I cannot possibly call you +by a name that is sacred to someone else." + +She spoke very quietly, but there was indomitable resolution in her +very calm--a resolution that exasperated Mrs. Ingleton almost +beyond endurance. + +She arose with a sweeping gesture. "Oh, very well then," she said. +"You shall call me Madam!" + +Sylvia looked up at her. "I think that is quite a good idea," she +said in a tone that somehow stung her hearer, unbearably. "I will +do that." + +"And don't be impertinent!" she said, beginning to pace to and fro +like an angry tigress. "I will not put up with it, Sylvia. I warn +you. You have been thoroughly spoilt all your life. I know the +signs quite well. And you have come to think that you can do +anything you like. But that is not so any longer. I am mistress +here, and I mean to maintain my position. Any hint of rebellion +from you or anyone else I shall punish with the utmost severity. +So now you understand." + +"I do indeed," said Sylvia. + +She had not stirred from her chair, but sat watching her +step-mother's agitated pacing with grim attention. It was her +first acquaintance with the most violent temper she had ever +encountered in a woman, and it interested her. She was no longer +conscious of being angry herself. The whole affair had become a +sort of bitter comedy. She looked upon it with a species of +impersonal scorn. + +Mrs. Ingleton was obviously lashing herself to fury. She could not +imagine why, not realizing at that stage that she was the victim of +a jealousy so fierce as to amount almost to a mania. She wondered +if her father were watching them from the terrace, and contemplated +getting up to join him, but hesitated to do so, reflecting that it +might appear like flight. At the same time she did not see why she +should remain as a target for her step-mother's invective, and she +had just decided upon departure when Bliss, the butler, opened the +door with his own peculiarly quiet flourish and announced, "Captain +Preston!" + +A clean-shaven little man, with a horsey appearance about the legs +which evening-dress wholly failed to conceal, entered, and +instinctively Sylvia rose to receive him. + +Mrs. Ingleton stopped short and stared as they met in the middle of +the room. + +"Hullo, Sylvia!" said the little man, and stamped forward as if he +had just dismounted after a long ride. He had a loud voice and an +assertive manner, and Mrs. Ingleton gazed at him in frozen surprise. + +Sylvia turned towards her. "May I introduce Mr. Preston--the +M.F.H.?" Her tone was cold. If the newcomer's advent had been a +welcome diversion it obviously gave her no pleasure. + +Preston, however, plainly did not stand in need of any +encouragement. He strode up to Mrs. Ingleton, confronting her with +aggressive self-assurance, "Delighted to meet you, madam. You are +Sylvia's step-mother, I presume? I hope we shall be more nearly +connected before long. Anyone belongin' to Sylvia has my highest +esteem. She has the straightest seat on a horse of any woman I +know. Ingleton and I between us taught her all she knows about +huntin', and she does us credit, by gad!" + +He winked at Mrs. Ingleton as he ended, and Sylvia bit her lip. +Mrs. Ingleton, however, held out her hand. + +"Pray sit down, Mr. Preston! You are most welcome. Sylvia, my +dear, will you find the cigarettes?" + +Sylvia took a box from the table and handed it to him. He took it +from her, openly pinching her fingers as he did so, and offered it +to her instead. + +"After you, Cherry-ripe! You're lookin' spiffin' to-night, hey, +Mrs. Ingleton? What do you think of your new daughter?" + +Mrs. Ingleton was smiling. "I am only wondering what all you young +men can be about," she said. "I should have thought one of you +would have captured her long ago." + +Sylvia turned round, disgust in every line, and walked to the +window. "I will find Dad," she said. + +Preston looked after her, standing with legs wide apart on the +hearth-rug. "It's none of my fault, I assure you," he said. "I've +been tryin' to rope her for the last two years. But she's so damn' +shy. Can't get near her, by George." + +"Really?" smiled Mrs. Ingleton. "Perhaps you have not gone quite +the right way to work. I think I shall have to take a hand in the +game and see what I can do." + +Preston bowed with his hand on his heart, "I always like to get the +fair sex on my side whenever possible. If you can put the halter +on her, you've only to name your price, madam, and it's yours." + +"Dear me!" said Mrs. Ingleton. "You're very generous." + +"I can afford to be," declared Preston. "She's a decent bit of +goods--the only one I've ever wanted and couldn't get. If you can +get the whip-hand of her and drive her my way--well, it'll be +pretty good business for all concerned. You like diamonds, hey, +madam?" + +"Very much," laughed Mrs. Ingleton coquettishly. "But you mustn't +make my husband jealous. Remember that now!" + +Preston closed one eye deliberately and poked his tongue into his +cheek. "You leave that to me, my good madam. Anythin' of that +sort would be the gift of the bridegroom. See?" + +"Oh, quite," said Mrs. Ingleton. "I shall certainly do my best for +you, Mr. Preston." + +"Good for you!" said Preston jocularly. "It's a deal then. And +you play every trump you've got!" + +"You may depend upon me," said Mrs. Ingleton. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE WHIP-HAND + +"Why isn't Mr. Preston engaged to Sylvia?" demanded Mrs. Ingleton +of her husband as she faced him across the breakfast-table on the +following morning. + +"He'd like to be," said Ingleton with his face bent over the +morning paper. + +"Then why isn't he?" demanded Mrs. Ingleton with asperity. "He is +a rich country gentleman, and he has a position in the County. +What more could you possibly want for her?" + +Reluctantly the squire made answer. "Oh, I'm willing enough. He's +quite a decent chap so far as I know. I dare say he'd make her +quite a good husband if she'd have him. But she won't. So there's +an end of that." + +"Ridiculous!" exclaimed Mrs. Ingleton. "And, pray, why won't she?" + +"Why? Oh, because there's another fellow, of course. There always +is," growled Ingleton. "Girls never fall in love with the right +man. Haven't you found that out yet?" + +"I have found out," said Mrs. Ingleton tartly, "that Sylvia is a +most wilful and perverse girl, and I think you are very unwise to +put up with her whims. I should be ashamed to have a girl of that +age still on my hands." + +"I'd like to know how you'd have managed her any differently," +muttered the squire, without looking up. + +Mrs. Ingleton laughed unpleasantly. "You don't know much about +women, do you, my dear? Of course I could have managed her +differently. She'd have been comfortably married for the past two +years at least if I had been in command." + +Ingleton looked sourly incredulous. "You don't know Sylvia," he +observed. "She has a will like cast-iron. You'd never move her." + +Mrs. Ingleton tossed her head. "Never? Well, look here! If you +want the girl to marry that really charming Mr. Preston, I'll +undertake that she shall--and that within a year. How is that?" + +Ingleton stared a little, then slowly shook his head. "You'll +never do it, my dear Caroline." + +"I will do it if it is your wish," said Mrs. Ingleton firmly. + +He looked at her with a touch of uneasiness. "I don't want the +child coerced." + +She laughed again. "What an idea! Are children ever coerced in +these days? It's usually the parents who have to put up with that +sort of treatment. Now tell me about the other man. What and +where is he?" + +Ingleton told her with surly reluctance. "Oh, he was a handsome +young beggar she met five years ago--the son of my then bailiff, as +a matter of fact. The boy had had a fairly decent education; he +was a gentleman, but he wasn't good enough for my Sylvia, had no +prospects of any sort. And so I put my foot down." + +Mrs. Ingleton smiled with her thin, hard lips, but no gleam of +humour reached her eyes. "With the result, I suppose, that she has +been carrying on with him ever since." + +Ingleton stirred uneasily in his chair. "Well, she hasn't given +him up. They correspond, I believe. But he is far enough away at +present. He is in South Africa. She'll never marry him with my +approval. I'm pretty certain now that the fellow is a rotter." + +"She probably deems herself very heroic for sticking to him in +spite of opposition," observed Mrs. Ingleton. + +"Very likely," he conceded. "But I think she genuinely cares for +him. That's just the mischief of it. And, unfortunately, in +another couple of years she'll be in a position to please herself. +She inherits a little money from her mother then." + +Mrs. Ingleton's smile became more pronounced, revealing her strong +white teeth behind. "You need not look forward so far as that, my +love," she said. "Leave Sylvia entirely to me! I will undertake, +as I said, to have her married to Mr. Preston well within a year. +So you may set your mind at rest on that point." + +"He is certainly fond of her," said the squire. "And they both +have sporting tastes. He ought to have a very good chance with her +if only the other fellow could be wiped out." + +"Then leave her to me!" said Mrs. Ingleton, rising. "And mind, +dear"--she paused behind her husband's chair and placed large white +hands upon his shoulders--"whatever I do, you are not to interfere. +Is that a bargain?" + +Ingleton moved again uncomfortably. "You won't be unkind to the +child?" he said. + +"My dear Gilbert, don't you realize that the young lady is more +than capable of holding her own against me or anyone else?" +protested Mrs. Ingleton. + +"And yet you say you can manage her?" he said. + +"Well, so I can, if you will only trust to my discretion. What she +needs is a little judicious treatment, and that is what I intend to +give her. Come, that is understood, isn't it? It is perfectly +outrageous that she should have ridden roughshod over you so long. +A chit like that! And think how pleasant it will be for everyone +when she is settled and provided for. Dear me! I shall feel as if +a great weight has been lifted from my shoulders. We shall really +enjoy ourselves then." + +She smiled down into her husband's dubious face, and after a moment +with a curt sigh he pulled her down and kissed her. "Well, you're +a woman, you ought to know how to manage your own kind," he said. +"Sylvia's mother was an invalid for so long that I expect the child +did grow a bit out of hand. I'll leave her to you then, Caroline. +If you can manage to marry her to Preston I believe you'll do her +the biggest service possible." + +"Of course I should like to do that!" said Mrs. Ingleton, kissing +him loudly. "Ah! Here she comes! She mustn't catch us +love-making at this hour. Good morning, my dear child! What roses +to be sure! No need to ask where you have been." + +Sylvia came in, riding-whip in hand. Her face was flushed and her +eyes shining. + +"Had a ripping run, Dad. You ought to have been there," she said. +"Good morning!" She paused and kissed him, then turned to her +step-mother. "Good morning, Madam! I hope the keys have been duly +handed over. I told Mrs. Hadlow to see to it." + +Mrs. Ingleton kissed her effusively. "You poor child! I am afraid +it is a very sore point with you to part with your authority to me. +The only thing for you to do is to be quick and get a home of your +own." + +Sylvia laughed. "Breakfast is my most pressing need at the present +moment. Winnie carried me beautifully, Dad. George says she is a +positive marvel for her years; dear little soul." + +"George--George!" repeated Mrs. Ingleton with playful surprise. "I +presume that is the estimable young man who called upon me last +night. Well, well, if you are so intimate, I suppose I shall have +to be too. He was in a great hurry to pay his respects, was he +not?" + +Sylvia was staring at her from the other side of the table. "I +meant George the groom," she said coldly after a moment. "Is there +any news, Dad?" + +She turned deliberately to him, but before he could speak in answer +Mrs. Ingleton intervened. + +"Now, Sylvia, my love, I have something really rather serious to +say to you. Of course, I fully realize that you are very young and +inexperienced and not likely to think of these things for yourself. +But I must tell you that it is very bad for the servants to have +meals going in the dining-room at all hours. Therefore, my child, +I must ask you to make a point of being punctual--always. +Breakfast is at eight-thirty. Please bear that in mind for the +future!" + +Again Sylvia's wide eyes were upon her. They looked her straight +in the face. "Dad and I are never back by eight-thirty when we go +cubbing, are we, Dad?" she said. + +The squire cleared his throat, and did not respond. + +Mrs. Ingleton smiled. "But we are changing all that," she said. +"At my particular request your dear father has promised me to give +up hunting." + +"What?" said Sylvia, and turned upon her father with a red flash in +her eyes. "Dad, is that true?" + +He looked at her unwillingly. "Oh, don't make a scene!" he said +irritably. "Your mother is nervous, so I have given it up for the +present, that's all." + +"Please don't call Mrs. Ingleton my mother!" said Sylvia, suddenly +deadly calm. "Am I always to hunt alone, then, for the future?" + +"You have got--George," smiled Mrs. Ingleton. + +Sylvia's eyes fell abruptly from her father's face, but they did +not return to her step-mother. She turned away to the sideboard, +and helped herself from a dish that stood there. In absolute +silence she sat down at the table and began to eat. + +Her father sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment or two, then +got up with a non-committal, "Well!" gathered up his letters, and +tramped from the room. + +Mrs. Ingleton took up the paper and perused it, humming. Sylvia +ate her breakfast in dead silence. + +She rose finally to pour herself out some coffee, and at the +movement her step-mother looked up. There was a glitter in her +hard grey eyes that somewhat belied the smile she sought to assume. +"Now, my dear," she said, in the tone of one lecturing a refractory +child, "you were a very wilful and impertinent girl last night. I +told you I should punish you, and I have kept my word. I do not +advise you to aggravate the offence by sulking." + +"Will you tell me what you mean?" said Sylvia, standing stiff and +straight before her. + +Mrs. Ingleton slightly shrugged her shoulders. "You are behaving +like a child of six, and really, if you go on, you will provoke me +into treating you as such. The attitude you have chosen to adopt +is neither sensible nor dignified, let me tell you. You resent my +presence here. Very well; but you cannot prevent it. Would it not +be much wiser of you either to submit to my authority or----" + +"Or?" repeated Sylvia icily. + +"Or take the obvious course of providing yourself with a home +elsewhere," said Mrs. Ingleton. + +Sylvia put up a quick hand to her throat. She was breathing very +quickly. "You wish to force me to marry that horrible Preston +man?" she said. + +"By no means, my dear," smiled Mrs. Ingleton. "But you might do a +good deal worse. I tell you frankly, you will be very much +underdog as long as you elect to remain in this establishment. Oh +yes!" She suddenly rose to her full majestic height, dwarfing the +girl before her with conscious triumph. "I may have some trouble +with you, but conquer you I will. Your father will not interfere +between us. You have seen that for yourself. In fact, he has just +told me that he leaves the management of you entirely to me. He +has given me an absolutely free hand--very wisely. If I choose to +lock you in your room for the rest of the day he will not +interfere. And as I am quite capable of doing so, I warn you to be +very careful." + +Sylvia stood as if turned to stone. She was white to the lips, but +she confronted her step-mother wholly without fear. + +"Do you really think I would submit to that?" she said. "I am not +a child, I assure you, whatever I may appear to you. You will +certainly never manage me by that sort of means." + +Her clear, emphatic voice fell without agitation. Now that the +first shock of the encounter was past she had herself quite firmly +in hand. + +But Mrs. Ingleton took her up swiftly, realizing possibly that a +moment's delay would mean the yielding of the ground she had so +arrogantly claimed. + +"I shall manage you exactly as I choose," she said, raising her +voice with abrupt violence. "I know very well your position in +this house. You are absolutely dependent, and--unless you +marry--you will remain so, being quite unqualified to earn your own +living. Therefore the whip-hand is mine, and if I find you +insolent or intractable I shall use it without mercy. How dare you +set yourself against me in this way?" She stamped with sudden fury +upon the ground. "No, not a word! Leave the room instantly--I will +have no more of it! Do you hear me, Sylvia? Do you hear me?" + +She raised a menacing hand, but the fearless eyes never flinched. + +"I think you must be mad," Sylvia said. + +"Mad!" raved Mrs. Ingleton. "Mad because I refuse to be dictated +to by an impertinent girl? Mad because I insist upon being +mistress in my own house? You--you little viper--how dare you +stand there defying me? Do you want to be turned out into the +street?" + +She had worked herself up into unreasoning rage again. Sylvia saw +that further argument would be worse than useless. Very quietly, +without another word, she turned, gathered up riding-whip and +gloves, and went from the room. She heard Mrs. Ingleton utter a +fierce, malignant laugh as she went. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE VICTOR + +The commencement of the fox-hunting season was always celebrated by +a dance at the Town Hall--a dance which Sylvia had never failed to +attend during the five years that she had been in society and had +been a member of the Hunt. + +It was at her first Hunt Ball, on the occasion of her _debut_, that +she had met young Guy Ranger, and she looked back to that ball with +all its tender reminiscences as the beginning of all things. + +How superlatively happy she had been that night! Not for anything +that life could offer would she have parted with that one precious +romance of her girlhood. She clung to the memory of it as to a +priceless possession. And year after year she had gone to the Hunt +Ball with that memory close in her heart. + +It was at the last of these that George Preston had asked her to be +his wife. She had made every effort to avoid him, but he had +mercilessly tracked her down; and though she had refused him with +great emphasis she had never really felt that he had taken her +seriously. He was always seeking her out, always making excuses to +be alone with her. It was growing increasingly difficult to evade +him. She had never liked the man, but Fate or his own contrivance +was continually throwing him in her way. If she hunted, he +invariably rode home with her. If she remained away, he invariably +came upon her somehow, and wanted to know wherefore. + +She strongly suspected that her step-mother was in league with him, +though she had no direct proof of this. Preston was being +constantly asked to the house, and whenever they went out to dine +they almost invariably met him. She had begun to have a feeling +that people eyed them covertly, with significant glances, that they +were thrown together by design. Wherever they met, he always fell +to her lot as dinner-partner, and he had begun to affect an +attitude of proprietorship towards her which was yet too indefinite +for her actively to resent, + +She felt as if a net were closing around her from which, despite +her utmost effort, she was powerless to escape. Also, for weeks +now she had received no letter from Guy, and that fact disheartened +her more than any other. She had never before had to wait so long +for word from him. Very brief, often unsatisfying, as his letters +had been, at least they had never failed to arrive. And she +counted upon them so. Without them, she felt bereft of her +mainstay. Without them, the almost daily, nerve-shattering scenes +which her step-mother somehow managed to enact, however discreet +her attitude, became an infliction hardly to be borne. She might +have left her home for a visit among friends, but something held +her back from this. Something warned her that if she went her +place would be instantly filled up, and she would never return. +And very bitterly she realized the fact that for the next two years +she was dependent. She had not been trained to earn her own +living, and she lacked the means to obtain a training. Her father, +she knew, would not hear of such a thing, nor would he relinquish +the only means he possessed of controlling her actions. She +believed that privately he did not wish to part with her, though +her presence was a very obvious drawback to his comfort. He never +took her part, but also he never threw his weight into the balance +against her. He merely, with considerable surliness, looked on. + +And so the cruel struggle went on till it seemed to Sylvia that her +physical strength was ultimately beginning to fail. She came to +dread her step-mother's presence with a feeling akin to nausea, to +shrink in every nerve from the constant ordeals so ruthlessly +thrust upon her, + +So far she had never faltered or shown any sign of weakness under +the long-drawn-out persecution, but she was becoming aware that, +strive as she might, her endurance had its limits. She was but +human, and she was intensely sensitive to unkindness. Her nerves +were beginning to give way under the strain. There were even times +when she felt a breakdown to be inevitable, and only the thought of +her step-mother's triumph warded it off. Once down, and she knew +she would be a slave, broken beyond redemption to the most pitiless +tyranny. And so, though her strength was worn threadbare through +perpetual strain, she clung to it still. If only--oh, if only--Guy +would write! If he should be ill--if he should fail her--she felt +that it would be the end of everything. For nothing else mattered. + +She did not greatly wish to go to the Hunt Ball that year. She +felt utterly out of tune with all gaiety. But she could think of +no decent excuse for remaining away. And she was still buoying +herself up with the thought that Guy's silence could not last much +longer. She was bound to hear from him soon. + +She went to the Ball, therefore, feeling tired and dispirited, and +looking quite _passee_, as her step-mother several times assured +her. + +She had endured a long harangue upon jealousy that evening, which +vice Mrs. Ingleton declared she was allowing to embitter her whole +life, and she was weary to death of the subject and the penetrating +voice that had discoursed upon it. Once or twice she had been +stung into some biting rejoinder, but for the most part she had +borne the lecture in silence. After all, what did it matter? What +did it matter? + +They reached the Town Hall and went up the carpeted steps. +Preston, in hunting pink, received them. He captured Sylvia's hand +and pressed it tight against his heart. + +She stared at him with wide unsmiling eyes. "Seen the local rag?" +he asked, as he grinned amorously into them. "There's something to +interest you in it. Our local prophet has been at work." + +She did not know what he meant, or feel sufficiently interested to +inquire. She pulled her hand free, and passed on. His familiarity +became more marked and more insufferable every time she encountered +him. But still she asked herself again, what did it matter? + +He laughed and let her go. + +In the cloak-room people looked at her oddly, but beyond ordinary +greetings no one spoke to her. She did not know that it was solely +her utter wretchedness that kept them at a distance. + +She entered the ballroom behind Mrs. Ingleton, and at once Preston +descended upon her again. He had scrawled his name against half a +dozen dances on her card before she realized what he was doing. +She began to protest, but again that deadly feeling of apathy +overcame her. She was worn out--worn out. What did it matter +whether she danced with the man or not? + +Young Vernon Eversley, a friendly boy whom she had always liked, +pursed his lips when he saw her programme. + +"It's true then, is it?" he said. + +"What is true?" She looked at him questioningly, not feeling +greatly interested in his answer. + +He met her look with straight, honest eyes. "I saw the +announcement of your engagement in the paper this morning; but +somehow I didn't believe it. He's a dashed lucky man." + +That startled her out of her lethargy. She began a quick +disclaimer, but they were interrupted. One of the stewards came up +and swept young Eversley away. + +The next moment Preston came and took possession of her. He was +laughing still as he whirled her in among the dancers, refusing to +give her any breathing-space. + +"I want to see a little colour in those cheeks of yours, +Cherry-ripe," he said. "What's the Ingleton dragon been doin' to +you, my pretty?" + +She danced with him with a feeling that the net was drawn close +about her, and she was powerless to struggle any longer. When he +suffered her to stand at last, her head was whirling so that she +had to cling to him for support. + +He led her to a secluded corner and put her into a chair. Then he +bent over her and spoke into her ear. "Look here! I'm not such a +bad sort. They've coupled our names together in the local rag. +Why not let 'em?" + +She looked up at him, summoning her strength with a great effort. +"So it was your doing!" she said. + +"No, it wasn't!" he declared. "I swear it wasn't! I'm not such a +fool as that. But see here, Sylvia! Where's the use of holdin' +out any longer? You know I want you, and there's no sense in goin' +on pinin' for a fellow in South Africa who's probably married a +dozen blacks already. It isn't like you to cry for the moon. Put +up with me instead! You might do worse, and anyone can see you're +havin' a dog's time at the Manor now. You'll be your own boss +anyway if you come to me." + +She heard him with her eyes fixed before her. Her brief energy had +gone. Her life seemed to stretch before her in a long, dreary +waste. His arguments were unanswerable. Physical weariness, +combined with the despair which till then she had refused to +acknowledge, overwhelmed her. She was down. + +He put his hand upon her. "Come, I say! Is it a bargain? I swear +I won't bully you. I'm awfully fond of you, Cherry-ripe." + +She raised herself slowly. It was her last effort. "One thing +first," she said, and put his hand away from her. "I must--cable +to Guy, and get an answer." + +"Oh, rot!" he said. "What for?" + +"Because I haven't heard from him lately, and I must know--I must +know"--she spoke with rising agitation--"the reason why. He might +be--I don't say it is likely, but he might be--on his way home to +me. I can't--I can't give him up without knowing." + +Preston grimaced wryly, but he was shrewd enough to grasp and hold +such advantage as was his. "Well, failing him, you'll have me, +what? That's a promise, is it?" + +She looked at him again. "If you want me under those conditions." + +He put his arms about her. "Of course I want you, Cherry-ripe! +We'd be awfully happy together, you and I. I'll soon make you +forget him, if that's all. You can't be very deeply in love with +the fellow after all this time. I don't suppose he's in the least +the sort of person you take him for. You're wastin' your time over +a myth. Come, it's settled, isn't it? We're engaged." + +He pressed her closer. He bent to kiss her, but she turned her +face away. His lips only found her neck, but he made the most of +that. She had to exert her strength to free herself. + +"No," she said. "We're not engaged. We can't be engaged--until I +have heard from Guy." + +He suppressed a short word of impatience. "And suppose you don't +hear?" he asked. + +She made a blind movement with her hands. "Then---I give in." + +"You will marry me?" he insisted. + +"If you like," she answered drearily. "I expect you will very soon +get tired of me." + +"There's a remedy for everything," he answered jauntily. "But we +needn't consider that. I'm just mad to get you, you poor little +icicle. I'll warm you up, never fear. When you've been married to +me a week, you won't know yourself." She shivered and was silent. + +He turned in his tracks, perceiving he was making no headway. +"Then we're engaged provisionally anyway," he insisted. "There's +no need to contradict the general impression--unless we're obliged. +We'll behave like lovers--till further notice." + +She got to her feet. Her knees were trembling. The net was close +at last. She seemed to feel it pressing on her throat. "You are +not--to kiss me," she managed to say. + +He frowned at the condition, but he conceded it. The game was so +nearly his that he could afford to be generous. Besides, he would +exact payment in full later for any little concessions she wrung +from him now. + +"I'm bein' awfully patient," he said pathetically. "I hope you'll +take that into account. You really might just as well give in +first as last." + +But Sylvia had given in, and she knew it. Nothing but a miracle +could save her now. The only loophole she had for herself was one +which she realized already was highly unlikely to serve her. She +had been practically forced into submission, and she did not +attempt to disguise the fact from herself. + +Yet if only Guy had not failed her, she knew that no power on earth +would have sufficed to move her, no clamour of battle could ever +have made her quail. That had been the chink in her armour, and +through that she had been pierced again and again, till she was +vanquished at last. + +She felt too weary now, too utterly overwhelmed by circumstances, +to care what happened. Yes, she would cable to Guy as she had +said. But her confidence was gone. She was convinced already that +no word would come back in answer out of the void that had +swallowed him, + +She went through the evening as one in a dream. People offered her +laughing congratulations, and she never knew how she received them. +She seemed to be groping her way through an all-enveloping mist of +despair. + +One episode only stood out clearly from all the rest, and that was +when all were assembled at supper and out of the gay hubbub she +caught the sound of her own name. Then for a few intolerable +moments she became vividly alive to that which was passing around +her. She knew that George Preston's arm encircled her, and that +everyone present had risen to drink to their happiness. + +As soon as it was over she crept away like a wounded thing and hid +herself. Only a miracle could save her now. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE MIRACLE + +"Well, my dear," said Mrs. Ingleton, rising to kiss her +step-daughter on the following morning, "I consider you are a +very--lucky--girl." + +Sylvia received the kiss and passed on without reply. She was very +pale, but the awful inertia of the previous night had left her. +She was in full command of herself. She took up some letters from +a side table, and sat down with them. + +Her step-mother eyed her for a moment or two in silence. Then: +"Well, my dear?" she said. "Have you nothing to say for yourself?" + +"Nothing particular," said Sylvia. + +The letters were chiefly letters of congratulation. She read them +with that composure which Mrs. Ingleton most detested, and put them +aside. + +"Am I to have no share in the general rejoicing?" she asked at +length, in a voice that trembled with indignation. + +Sylvia recognized the tremor. It had been the prelude to many a +storm. She got up and turned to the window. "You can read them +all if you like," she said. "I see Dad on the terrace. I am just +going to speak to him." + +She passed out swiftly with the words before her step-mother's +gathering wrath could descend upon her. One of Mrs. Ingleton's +main grievances was that it was so difficult to corner Sylvia when +she wanted to give free vent to her violence. + +She watched the girl's slim figure pass out into the pale November +sunshine, and her frown turned to a very bitter smile. + +"Ah, my girl, you wait a bit!" she murmured. "You've met your +match, or I'm much mistaken." + +The squire was smoking his morning pipe in a sheltered corner. He +looked round with his usual half-surly expression as his daughter +joined him. + +She came to him very quietly and put her hand on his arm. + +"Well?" he said gruffly. + +She stood for a moment or two in silence, then: + +"Dad," she said very quietly, "I am going to cable to Guy. I +haven't heard from him lately. I must know the reason why +before--before----" A quiver of agitation sounded in her voice and +she stopped. + +"If you've made up your mind to marry Preston, I don't see why you +want to do that," said the squire curtly. + +"I am going to do it," she answered steadily. "I only wish I had +done it sooner." + +Ingleton burrowed into his paper. "All right," he growled. + +Sylvia stood for a few seconds longer, but he did not look up at +her, and at length, with a sharp sigh, she turned and left him. + +She did not return to her step-mother, however. She went to her +room to write her message. + +A little later she passed down the garden on her way to the +village. A great restlessness was upon her, and she thought the +walk to the post-office would do her good. + +She came upon Jeffcott in one of the shrubberies, and he stopped +her with the freedom of an old servant. + +"Beggin' your pardon, missie, but you'll let me wish you joy?" he +said. "I heard the good news this morning." + +She stood still. His friendly look went straight to her heart, +stirring in her an urgent need for sympathy. + +"Oh, Jeffcott," she said, "I'd never have given in if Mr. Ranger +hadn't stopped writing." + +"Lor!" said Jeffcott. "Did he now?" He frowned for an instant. +"But---didn't you have a letter from him last week?" he questioned. +"Friday morning it were. I see Evans, the postman, and he said as +there were a South African letter for you. Weren't that from Mr. +Ranger, missie?" + +"What?" said Sylvia sharply. + +"Last Friday it were," the old man repeated firmly. "Why, I see +the letter in his hand top of the pile when he stopped in the drive +to speak to me. We both of us passed a remark on it." + +Sylvia was staring at him. "Jeffcott, are you sure?" she said. + +"Sure as I stand here, Miss Sylvia," he returned. "I couldn't have +made no mistake. Didn't you have it then, missie? I'll swear to +heaven it were there." + +"No," Sylvia said. "I didn't have it." She paused a moment; then +very slowly, "The last letter I had from Guy Ranger," she said, +"was more than six weeks ago--the day that the squire brought Madam +to the Manor." + +"Lor!" ejaculated old Jeffcott again. "But wherever could they +have got to, Miss Sylvia? Don't Bliss have the sortin' of the +letters?" + +"I--don't--know." Sylvia was gazing straight before her with that +in her face which frightened the old man. "Those letters have +been--kept back." + +She turned from him with the words, and suddenly she was running, +running swiftly up the path. + +Like a young animal released from bondage she darted out of his +sight, and Jeffcott returned to his hedge-trimming with pursed +lips. That last glimpse of Miss Sylvia's face had--to express it +in his own language--given him something of a turn. + +It had precisely the same effect upon Sylvia's step-mother a little +later, when the girl burst in upon her as she sat writing letters +in her boudoir. + +She looked round at her in amazement, but she had no time to ask +for an explanation, for Sylvia, white to the lips, with eyes of +flame, went straight to the attack. She was in such a whirlwind of +passion as had never before possessed her. + +She was panting, yet she spoke with absolute distinctness. "I have +just found out," she said, "how it is that I have had no letters +from Guy during the past six weeks. They have been--stolen." + +"Really, Sylvia!" said Mrs. Ingleton. She arose in wrath, but no +wrath had any effect upon Sylvia at that moment. She was girt for +battle--the deadliest battle she had ever known. + +"You took them!" she said, pointing an accusing finger full at her +step-mother. "You kept them back! Deny it as much as you like--as +much as you dare! None but you would have stooped to do such a +thing. And it has been done. The letters have been delivered--and +I have not received them. I have suffered--horribly--because of +it. You meant me to suffer!' + +"You are wrong, Sylvia! You are wrong!" Shrilly Mrs. Ingleton +broke in upon her, for there was something awful in the girl's +eyes--they had a red-hot look. "Whatever I have done has been for +your good always. Your father will testify to that. Go and ask +him if you don't believe me!" + +"My father had nothing to do with this!" said Sylvia in tones of +withering scorn. "Whatever else he lacks, he has a sense of +honour. But you--you are a wicked woman, unprincipled, cruel, +venomous. It may be my father's duty to live with you, but--thank +heaven--it is not mine. You have come into my home and cursed it. +I will never sleep under the same roof with you again." + +She turned with the words to leave the room, and found her father +and George Preston just coming out of the library on the other side +of the hall. Fearlessly she swung round and confronted them. The +utter freedom of her at that moment made her superb. The miracle +had happened. She had rent the net that entangled her to shreds. + +Mrs. Ingleton was beginning to clamour in the room behind her. She +turned swiftly and shut and locked the door. Then she faced the +two men with magnificent courage. + +"I have to tell you," she said, addressing them both impersonally, +"that my engagement to Guy Ranger is unbroken. I have just found +out that my step-mother has been suppressing his letters to me. +That, of course, alters everything. And--also of course--it makes +it impossible for me to stay here any longer. I am going to +him--at once." + +Her eyes went rapidly from her father's face to Preston's. It was +he who came forward and answered her. The squire seemed struck +dumb. + +"Egad!" he said. "I've never seen you look so rippin' in all my +life! That's how you look when you're angry, is it? Now I shall +know what to watch out for when we're married." + +She answered him with a quiver of scorn. "We never shall be +married, Mr. Preston. You may put that out of your mind for ever. +I am going to Guy by the next boat." + +"Not you!" laughed Preston. "You're in a paddy just now, my dear, +but when you've thought it over soberly you'll find there are a +good many little obstacles in the way of that. You haven't been +brought up to rough it for one. And Guy Ranger, as I think we +settled last night, has probably married half a dozen blacks +already. It's too great a risk, Cherry-ripe! And--if I know +you--you won't take it." + +"You don't know me," said Sylvia. She turned, from him and went to +her father. "Have you nothing to say," she asked, "about this vile +and hateful plot? But I suppose you can't. She is your wife. +However much you despise her, you have got to endure her. But I +have not. And so I am going--to-day!" + +Her voice rang clear and unfaltering. She looked him straight in +the eyes. He made a sharp movement, almost as if that full regard +pierced him. + +He spoke with manifest effort. "You won't go with my consent." + +"No?" said Sylvia. "Yet--you would never respect me again if I +stayed. I could never respect myself." She glanced over her +shoulder at the door which Mrs. Ingleton was violently shaking. +"You can let her out," she said contemptuously. "I have had my +turn. I leave her--in possession." She turned to go to the +stairs, then abruptly checked herself, stepped up to her father, +put her hands on his shoulders and kissed him. The anger had gone +out of her eyes. "Good-bye, Dad! Think of me sometimes!" she said. + +And with that she was gone, passing Preston by as though she saw +him not, and ascending the stairs quickly, but wholly without +agitation. They heard her firm, light tread along the corridor +above. Then with a hunch of the shoulders the squire turned and +unlocked the boudoir door. + +Mrs. Ingleton burst forth in a fury. "You cad to keep me boxed up +here with that little serpent pouring all sorts of poison into your +ears! Where is she? Where is she? I'll give her such a trouncing +as she's never had before!" + +But Ingleton stretched an arm in front of her, barring the way. +His face was grim and unyielding. "No, you won't!" he said. +"You'll leave her alone. She's my daughter--not yours. And you'll +not interfere with her any further." + +There was a finality in his tone. Mrs. Ingleton stopped short, +glaring at him. + +"You take her part, do you?" she demanded. + +"On this occasion--yes, I do," said the squire. + +"And what about me?" said Preston. + +Ingleton looked at him--still barring his wife's progress--with a +faint, sardonic smile. "Well, she seems to have given you the +boot, anyway. If I were in your place, I should--quit." + +"She'll repent it!" raved Mrs. Ingleton. "Oh, she will repent it +bitterly!" + +"Very likely," conceded Ingleton. "But she's kicked over the +traces now, and that fact won't pull her up--anyhow, at present," + +Mrs. Ingleton's look held fierce resentment. "Are you going to let +her go?" she said. + +He shrugged his shoulders. "Seeing I can't help myself, I suppose +I shall. There's no sense in making a fuss now. It's done, so you +leave her alone!" + +Mrs. Ingleton turned upon Preston. "You can bring an action for +breach of promise!" she said. "I'll support you." + +He made her an ironical bow. "You are more than kind," he said. +"But--I think I shall get on better for the future without your +support." + +And with the words he turned on his heel and went out. + +"Hateful person!" cried Mrs. Ingleton. "Gilbert, he has insulted +me! Go after him and kick him! Gilbert! How dare you?" + +Ingleton was quietly but firmly impelling her back into the +boudoir. "You go and sit down!" he said. "Sit down and be quiet! +There's been enough of this." + +It was the first time in her knowledge that he had ever asserted +himself. Mrs. Ingleton stared at him wildly for a second or two, +then, seeing that he was in earnest, subsided into a chair with a +burst of hysterical weeping, declaring that no one ever treated her +so brutally before. + +She expected to be soothed, comforted, propitiated, but no word of +solace came. Finally she looked round with an indignant dabbing of +her tears. How dare he treat her thus? Was he quite heartless? +She began to utter a stream of reproaches, but stopped short and +gasped in incredulous disgust. He had actually--he had +actually--gone, and left her to wear her emotion out in solitude. + +So overwhelming was the result of this piece of neglect, combined +with the failure of all her plans, that Mrs. Ingleton retired +forwith to bed, and remained there for the rest of the day. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE LAND OF STRANGERS + +It had been a day of intense and brooding heat. Black clouds hung +sullenly low in the sky, and a heavy gloom obscured the face of the +earth. On each side of the railway the _veldt_ stretched for +miles, vivid green, yet strangely desolate to unaccustomed eyes. +The moving train seemed the only sign of life in all that +wilderness. + +Sylvia leaned from the carriage window and gazed blankly forth. +She had hoped that Guy would meet her at Cape Town, but he had not +been there. She had come unwelcomed into this land of strangers. +But he would be at Ritzen. He had cabled a month before that he +would meet her there if he could not get to Cape Town. + +And now she was nearing Ritzen. Across the mysterious desolation +she discerned its many lights. It was a city in a plain, and the +far hills mounted guard around it, but she saw them only dimly in +the failing light. + +Ritzen was the nearest railway station to the farm on which Guy +worked. From here she would have to travel twenty miles across +country. But that would not be yet. Guy and she would be married +first. There would be a little breathing-space at Ritzen before +she went into that new life that awaited her beyond the hills. +Somehow she felt as if those hills guarded her destiny. She did +not fear the future, but she looked forward to it with a certain +awe. + +Paramount within her, was the desire for Guy, the sight of his +handsome, debonair countenance, the ring of his careless laugh. As +soon as she saw Guy she knew she would be at home, even in the land +of strangers, as she had never been at the Manor since the advent +of her father's second wife. She had no misgivings on that point, +or she had never come across the world to him thus, making all +return impossible. For there could be be no going back for her. +She had taken a definite and irrevocable step. There could be no +turning back upon this road that she had chosen. + +It might not be an easy road. She was prepared for obstacles. But +with Guy she was ready to face anything. The adversity through +which she had come had made the thought of physical hardship of +very small account. And deep in her innermost soul she had a +strong, belief in her own ultimate welfare. She was sure that she +had done the right thing in thus striking out for herself, and she +was equally sure that, whatever it might entail, she would not +regret it in the end. + +The lights were growing nearer. She discerned the brick building +of the station. Over the wide stretch of land that yet intervened +there came to her the smell of smoke and human habitation. A warm +thrill went through her. In two minutes now--in less--the long +five years' separation would be over, and she would be clasping +Guy's hand again. + +She leaned from the window, scanning the few outstanding houses of +the town as the train ran past. Then they were in the station, and +a glare of light received them. + +A crowd of unfamiliar faces swam before her eyes, and then--she saw +him. He stood on the platform awaiting her, distinct from all the +rest to her eager gaze--a man of medium height, broader than she +remembered, with a keen, bronzed face and eagle eyes that caught +and held her own. + +She sprang form the train almost before it shopped. She held out +both her hands to him. + +"Guy! Guy!" + +Her voice came sobbingly. He gripped the hands hard and close. + +"So you've got here!" he said. + +She was staring at him, her face upraised. What was there about +him that did not somehow tally with the Guy of her memory and her +dreams? He was older, of course; he was more mature, bigger in +every way. But she missed something. There was no kindling of +pleasure in his eyes. They looked upon her kindly. Ah, yes; but +the rapture--where was the rapture of greeting? + +A sense of coldness went through her. Her hands fell from his. He +had changed--he had changed indeed! His eyes were too keen. She +thought they held a calculating expression. And the South African +sun had tanned him almost bronze. His chin had a stubbly look. +The Guy she had known had been perfectly smooth of skin. + +She looked at him with a rather piteous attempt to laugh. "I +wonder I knew you at all," she said, "with that hideous embryo +beard. I'm sure you haven't shaved to-day." + +He put up a hand and felt his chin. "No, I shaved yesterday," he +said, and laughed. "I've been too busy to-day." + +That reassured her. The laugh at least was like Guy, brief though +it was. "Horrid boy!" she said. "Well, help me collect my things. +We'll talk afterwards." + +He helped her. He went into the carriage she had just left and +pulled out all her belongings. These he dumped on the platform and +told her to wait while he collected the rest. + +She stood obediently in the turmoil of Britons, Boers, and Kaffirs, +that surged around. She felt bewildered, strung up, unlike +herself. It was a land of strangers, indeed, and she felt forlorn +and rather frightened. Why had Guy looked at her so oddly? Why +had his welcome been so cold? Could it be--could it be--that he +was not pleased to see her, that--that--possibly he did not want +her? The dreadful chill went through her again like a sword +thrusting at her heart, and with it went old Jeffcott's warning +words: "Do you ever ask yourself what sort of man he may be after +five years? I'll warrant he's lived every minute of it. He's the +sort that would." + +She had felt no doubt then, nor ever since, until this moment. And +now--now it came upon her and overwhelmed her. She glanced about +her, almost as one seeking escape. + +"I've fixed everything up. Come along to the railway hotel! You +must be pretty tired." He had returned to her, and he stood looking +at her with those strangely keen eyes, almost as if he had never +seen her before, she thought to herself desolately. + +She looked bade at him with unconscious appeal in her own. "I am +tired," she said, and was aware of a sudden difficulty in speaking. +"Is it far?" + +"No," he said; "only a step." + +He gathered up her hand-baggage and led the way, making a path for +her through the throng. + +She scarcely noticed where she went, so completely did he fill her +mind. He had changed enormously, developed in a fashion that she +had never deemed possible. He walked with a free swing, and +carried himself as one who counted. He had the look of one +accustomed to command. She seemed to read prosperity in every +line. But was he prosperous? If so, why had he not sent for her +long ago? + +They reached the hotel. He led the way without pause straight to a +small private room where a table had been prepared for a meal. + +"Sit down!" he said. "Take off your things! You must be starved." + +He rang the bell and gave an order while she mutely obeyed. All +her confidence was gone. She had begun to tremble. The wonder +crossed her mind if perhaps she, too, had altered, grown beyond all +his previous conception of her. Possibly she was as much a +stranger to him as he to her. Was that why he had looked at her +with that oddly critical expression? Was that why he did not now +take her in his arms? + +Impulsively she took off her hat and turned round to him. + +He was looking at her still, and again that awful sense of doubt +mastered and possessed her. A great barrier seemed to have sprung +up between them. He was formidable, actually formidable. The Guy +of old days, impetuous, hot-tempered even, had never been that. + +She stood before him, controlling her rising agitation with a great +effort. "Why do you look at me like that?" she said. "I feel--you +make me feel--as if--you are a total stranger!" + +His face changed a little, but still she could not read his look. +"Sit down!" he said. "We must have a talk." + +She put out her hand to him. The aloofness of his speech cut her +with an anguish intolerable. "What has happened?" she said. +"Quick! Tell me! Don't you want to--marry me?" + +He took her hand. She saw that in some fashion he was moved, +though still she could not understand. "I'm trying to tell you," +he said; "but--to be honest--you've hit me in the wind, and I don't +know how. I think you have forgotten in all these years what Guy +was like." + +She gazed at him blankly. Again Jeffcott's words were running in +her mind. And something--something hidden behind them--arose up +like a menace and terrified her. + +"I haven't forgotten," she whispered voicelessly. "I couldn't +forget. But go on! Don't--don't mind telling me!" + +She was white to the lips. All the blood in her body seemed +concentrated at her heart. It was beating in heavy, sickening +throbs like the labouring of some clogged machinery. + +He put his free hand on her shoulder with an abrupt movement that +made him for the moment oddly familiar. "It's a damned shame," he +said, and though his voice was low he spoke with feeling. "Look +here, child! This is no fault of mine. I never thought you could +make this mistake, never dreamed of such a possibility. I'm not +Guy at all. I am Burke Ranger--his cousin. And let me tell you at +once, we are not much alike now--whatever we have been in the past. +Here, don't faint! Sit down!" + +He shifted his hand from her shoulder to her elbow, and supported +her to a chair. But she remained upon her feet, her white face +upraised, gazing at him--gazing at him. + +"Not Guy! Not Guy!" She said it over and over as if to convince +herself. Then: "But where is Guy?" She clutched at his arm +desperately, for all her world was shaking. "Are you going to tell +me he is--dead?" + +"No." Burke Ranger spoke with steady eyes looking straight into +hers. "He is not." + +"Then why--then why--" She could get no further. She stopped, +gasping. His face swam blurred before her quivering vision,--Guy's +face, yet with an inexplicable something in it that was not Guy. + +"Sit down!" he said again, and put her with quiet insistence into +the chair. "Wait till you have had something to eat! Then we'll +have a talk and decide what had better be done." + +She was shivering from head to foot, but she faced him still. "I +can't eat," she said through white lips. "I can't do anything +till--till I know--all there is to know." + +He stood looking down at her. The fingers of his right hand were +working a little, but his face was perfectly calm, even grim. + +As he did not speak immediately, she went on with piteous effort. +"You must forgive me for making that stupid mistake. I see +now--you are not Guy, though there is a strong likeness. You see, +I have not seen Guy for five years, and I--I was allowing for +certain changes." + +"He is changed," said Burke Ranger. + +That nameless terror crept closer about her heart. Her eyes met +his imploringly. + +"Really I am quite strong," she said. "Won't you tell me what is +wrong? He--cabled to me to come to him. It was in answer to my +cable." + +"Yes, I know," said Ranger. + +He turned from her abruptly and walked to the window. The darkness +had drawn close. It hung like a black curtain beyond the pane. +The only light in the room was a lamp that burned on a side table. +It illumined him but dimly, and again it seemed to the girl who +watched him that this could be no other than the Guy of her +dreams--the Guy she had loved so faithfully, for whose sake she had +waited so patiently for so many weary years. Surely it was he who +had made the mistake! Surely even yet he would turn and gather her +to his heart, and laugh at her folly for being so easily deluded! + +Ah! He had turned. He stood looking at her across the +dimly-lighted space. Her very heart stood still to hear his voice. + +He spoke. "The best thing you can do is to go back to the place +you came from--and marry someone else." + +The words went through her. They seemed to tear and lacerate her. +As in a nightmare vision she saw the bitterness that lay behind +her, the utter emptiness before. She still stared full at him, but +she saw him not. Her terror had taken awful shape before her, and +all her courage was gone. She cowered before it. + +"I can't--I can't!" she said, and even to herself her voice sounded +weak and broken, like the cry of a lost child. "I can't go back!" + +He came across the room to her, moving quickly, as if something +urged him. She did not know that she had flung out her hands in +wild despair until she felt him gather them together in his own. + +He bent over her, and she saw very clearly in his countenance that +which had made her realize that he was not Guy. "Look here!" he +said. "Have a meal and go to bed! We will talk it out in the +morning. You are worn out now." + +His voice held insistence. There was no softness in it. Had he +displayed kindness in that moment she would have burst into tears. +But he put her hands down again with a brief, repressive gesture, +and the impulse passed. She yielded him obedience, scarcely +knowing what she did. + +He brought her food and wine, and she ate and drank mechanically +while he watched her with his grey, piercing eyes, not speaking at +all. + +Finally she summoned strength to look up at him with a quivering +smile. "You are very kind. I am sorry to have given you so much +trouble." + +He made an abrupt movement that she fancied denoted impatience. +"Can't you eat any more?" he said. + +She shook her head, still bravely smiling. "I can't--really. I +think--I think perhaps you are right. I had better go to bed, and +you will tell me everything in the morning." + +"Finish the drink anyhow!" he said. + +She hesitated momentarily, but he pushed the glass firmly towards +her and she obeyed. + +She stood up then and faced him. "Will you please tell me one +thing--to--to set my mind at rest? Guy--Guy isn't ill?" + +He looked her straight in the face. "No." + +"You are sure?" she said. + +"Yes." He spoke with curt decision, yet oddly she wondered for a +fleeting second if he had told her the truth. + +His look seemed to challenge the doubt, to beat it down. Half +shyly, she held out her hand. + +"Good night," she said. + +His fingers grasped and released it. He turned with her to the +door. "I will show you your room" he said. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE WRONG TURNING + +Sylvia slept that night the heavy, unstirring sleep of utter +weariness though when she lay down she scarcely expected to sleep +at all. The shock, the bewilderment, the crushing dread, that had +attended her arrival after the long, long journey had completely +exhausted her mentally, and physically. She slept as a child +sleeps at the end of a strenuous day. + +When she awoke, the night was gone and all the world was awake and +moving. The clouds had all passed, and a brilliant morning sun +shone down upon the wide street below her window. She felt +refreshed though the heat was still great. The burden that had +overwhelmed her the night before did not seem so intolerable by +morning light. Her courage had come back to her. + +She dressed with a firm determination to carry a brave face +whatever lay before her. Things could not be quite so bad as they +had seemed the previous night. Guy could not really have changed +so fundamentally. Perhaps he only feared that she could not endure +poverty with him. If that were all, she would soon teach him +otherwise. All she wanted in life now was his love. + +She had almost convinced herself that this was practically all she +had to contend with, and the ogre of her fears was well in the +background, when she finally left her room and went with some +uncertainty through the unfamiliar passages. + +She found the entrance, but a crowd of curious Boers collected +about the door daunted her somewhat, and she was turning back from +their staring eyes when Burke Ranger suddenly strode through the +group and joined her. + +She gave him a quick, half-startled glance as they met, and the +first thing that struck her about him was the obvious fact that he +had shaved. His eyes intercepted hers, and she saw the flicker of +a smile pass across them and knew he had read her thought. + +She flushed as she held out her hand to him. "Good morning," she +said with a touch of shyness. "I hope you haven't been wasting +your time waiting for me." + +He took her hand and turned her towards the small room in which +they had talked together the previous night. "No, I haven't wasted +my time," he said. "I hope you have had a good rest?" + +"Oh, quite, thank you," she answered. "I slept like the dead. I +feel--fit for anything." + +"That's right," he said briefly. "We will have some breakfast +before we start business." + +"Oh, you have been waiting!" she exclaimed with compunction. "I'm +so sorry. I'm not generally so lazy." + +"Don't apologize!" he said. "You've done exactly what I hoped +you'd do. Sit down, won't you? Take the end of the table!" + +His manner was friendly though curt. Her embarrassment fell from +her as she complied. They sat, facing one another, and, the light +being upon him, she gave him a steady look. He was not nearly so +much like Guy as she had thought the previous night, though +undoubtedly there was a strong resemblance. On a closer inspection +she did not think him handsome, but the keen alertness of him +attracted her. He looked as if physical endurance were a quality +he had brought very near to perfection. He had the stamp of the +gladiator upon him. He had wrestled against odds. + +After a moment or two he turned his eyes unexpectedly to hers. It +was a somewhat disconcerting habit of his. + +"A satisfactory result, I hope?" he said. + +She did not look away. "I don't consider myself a good character +reader," she said. "But you are certainly not so much like Guy as +I thought at first sight." + +"Thank you," he said. "I must confess I prefer to be like myself." + +She laughed a little. "It was absurd of me to make such a mistake. +But yours was the only face that looked in the least familiar in +all that crowd. I was so glad to see it." + +"You have never been in this country before?" he asked. + +She shook her head. "Never. I feel a dreadful outsider at +present. But I shall soon learn.' + +"Do you ride?" he said. + +Her eyes kindled. "Yes. I was keen on hunting in England. That +will be a help, won't it?" + +"It would be," he said, "if you stayed." + +"I have come to stay," she said with assurance. + +"Wait a bit!" said Burke Ranger. + +His manner rather than his words checked her. She felt again that +cold dread pressing against her heart. She turned from the subject +as one seeking escape. + +She ate a good breakfast almost in spite of herself. Ranger +insisted upon it, and since he was evidently hungry himself it +seemed churlish not to keep him company. He told her a little +about the country, while they ate, but he strenuously avoided all +things personal, and she felt compelled to follow his lead. He +imposed a certain restraint upon her, and even when he rose from +the table at length with the air of a man about to face the +inevitable, she did not feel it to be wholly removed. + +She got up also and watched him fill his pipe with something of her +former embarrassment. She expected him to light it when he had +finished, but he did not. He put it in his pocket, and somewhat +abruptedly turned to her. + +"Now!" he said. + +She met his look with a brave face. She even smiled--a gallant, +little smile to which he made no response. "Well, now," she said, +"I want you to tell me the quickest way to get to Guy." + +He faced her squarely. "I've got to tell you something about him +first," he said. + +"Yes?" Her heart was beating very quickly, but she had herself well +in hand. "What is it?" + +But he stood mutely considering her. It was as if the power of +speech had suddenly gone from him. + +"What is it?" she said again. "Won't you tell me?" + +He made a curious gesture. It was almost a movement of flinching. +"You're so young," he said. + +"Oh, but I'm not--I'm not!" she assured him. "It's only my face. +I'm quite old really. I've been through a lot." + +"You've never seen life yet," he said. + +"I have!" she declared with an odd vehemence. "I've learnt lots of +things. Why--do you look like that? I'm not a child." + +Her voice quivered a little in spite of her. Why did he look like +that? The compassion in his eyes smote her with a strange pain. +Why--why was he sorry for her? + +He saw her rising agitation, and spoke, slowly, choosing his words. +"The fact is, Guy isn't what you take him for--isn't the right man +for you. Nothing on this earth can make him so now, whatever he +may have been once. He's taken the wrong turning, and there's no +getting back." + +She gazed at him with wide eyes. Her lips felt stiff and cold. +"What--what--do you mean, please?" she said. + +She saw his hands clench. "I don't want to tell you what I mean," +he said. "Haven't I said enough?" + +She shook her head slowly, with drawn brows. "No--no! I've got to +understand. Do you mean Guy doesn't want me after all? Didn't he +really mean me to come? He--sent a message." + +"I know. That's the infernal part of it." Burke Ranger spoke with +suppressed force. "He was blind drunk when he sent it." + +"Oh!" She put up her hands to her face for a moment as if to +shield herself from a blow. "He--drinks, does he?" + +"He does everything he ought not to do, except steal," said Ranger +bluntly. "I've tried to keep him straight--tried every way. I +can't. It isn't to be done." + +Sylvia's hands fell again. "Perhaps," she said slowly, "perhaps I +could." + +The man started as if he had been shot. "You!" he said. + +She met his look with her wide eyes. "But why not?" she said. "We +love each other." + +He turned from her, grinding the floor with his heel. "God help me +to make myself intelligible!" he said. + +It was the most forcible prayer she had ever heard. It struck +through to her very soul. She stood motionless, but she felt +crushed and numb. + +Ranger walked to the end of the room and then came straight back to +her. + +"Look here!" he said. "This is the most damnable thing I've ever +had to do. Let's get it over! He's a rotter and a blackguard. +Can you grasp that? He hasn't lived a clean life all these years +he's been away from you. He went wrong almost at the outset. He's +the sort that always does go wrong. I've done my best for him. +Anyhow, I've kept him going. But I can't make a decent man of him. +No one can. He has lucid intervals, but they get shorter and +shorter. Just at present--" he paused momentarily, then plunged +on--"I told you last night he wasn't ill. That was a lie. He is +down with delirium tremens, and it isn't the first time." + +"Ah!" Sylvia said. He had made her understand at last. She stood +for a space staring at him, then with a groping movement she found +and grasped the back of a chair. "Why--why did you lie to me?" she +said. + +"I did it for your sake," he answered briefly. "You couldn't have +faced it then." + +"I see," she said, and paused to collect herself. "And does +he--does he realize that I am here?" she asked painfully. "Doesn't +he--want to see me?" + +"Just now," said Ranger grimly, "he is too busy thinking about his +own troubles to worry about anyone else's. He does know you are +coming. He was raving about it two nights ago. Then came your +wire from Cape Town. That was what brought me here to meet you." + +"I see," she said again. "You--you have been very good. It would +have been dreadful if--if I had been stranded here alone." + +"I'd have stopped you at Cape Town if I could," he said. + +"No, you wouldn't have stopped me," she answered, with a drear +little smile. "I should have had to come on and see Guy in any +case. I shall have to see him now. Where is he?" + +Ranger stood close to her. He bent slightly, looking into her +eyes. "You have understood me?" he questioned. + +She looked straight back at him; it was no moment for shrinking +avoidance. "Yes," she said, + +"And you believe me?" he proceeded. + +Her red-brown eyes widened a little. "But of course I believe you." + +"And, still you want to see him?" said Burke Ranger. + +"I must see him," she answered quietly. "You must realize that. +You would do the same in my place." + +"If I did," said Ranger, dropping his voice, "it would be to tell +him to go to hell!" Then, as involuntarily she drew back: "No, I +shouldn't put it like that to you, I know. But what's the point of +your seeing him? It will only make things worse for you." + +"I must see him," she said firmly. "Please tell me where he is!" + +He looked at her for a moment or two in silence. "He is in his own +shanty on my farm," he said then. "Blue Hill Farm it is called. +You can't go to him there. It's a twenty-mile ride from here." + +"Can't I get a horse to take me?" she asked. + +"I could take you in my cart," said Burke slowly. + +"And will you?" Sylvia said. + +"I suppose you will go in any case," he said. + +"I must go," she answered steadily. + +"I don't see why," he said. "It's a degrading business. It won't +do any good." + +Her face quivered. She controlled it swiftly. "Will you take me?" +she said. + +He frowned. "What is going to happen afterwards? Have you thought +of that?" + +She shook her head. "No. I can't see the future at all. I only +know that I must see Guy, and I can't go back to England." + +"Why not?" he said. + +She pressed a hand to her throat as if she found speaking a +difficulty. "I have no place there. My father has married again. +I must earn my living here somehow." + +He moved abruptly. "You!" he said again. She tried to smile. +"You seem to think I am very helpless. I assure you I am not. I +have managed my father's house for five years. I am quite willing +to learn anything, and I am very strong." + +"You are very brave," he said, almost as if he spoke in spite of +himself. "But--you've got to be sensible too. You won't marry +him?" + +She hesitated. "I must see him. I must judge for myself." + +He nodded, still frowning. "Very well,--if you must. But you +won't marry him as a way out of your difficulties? You've got to +promise me that." + +"Why?" she said. + +He answered her with that sudden force which before had startled +her. "Because I can't stand by and see purity joined to +corruption. Some women will sacrifice anything for sentiment. You +wouldn't do anything so damn' foolish as that." + +"No," said Sylvia. + +"Then it's a promise?" he said. + +She held out her hand to him with her brave little smile. "I +promise you I won't do anything damn' foolish for the sake +of--sentiment. Will that do?" + +He gripped her hand for a moment. "Yes. I think it will," he said. + +"And thank you for being so good to me," she added. + +He dropped her hand, and turned away. "As to that--I please +myself," he said briefly. "Be ready to start in an hour from now!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE COMRADE + +That twenty-mile ride in Burke Ranger's high cart, with a pair of +skittish young horses pulling at the reins, was an experience never +to be eradicated from Sylvia's memory. They followed a course +across the veldt that began as a road and after a mile or two +deteriorated into a mere rough track. Up and down many slopes they +travelled, but the far hills never seemed to draw any nearer. Here +and there they passed kopjes stacked against the blazing blue of +the sky. They held a weird attraction for her. They were like the +stark bones of the earth pushing up through the coarse desert +grasses. Their rugged strength and their isolation made her +marvel. The veldt was swept by a burning wind. The clouds of the +night before had left no rain behind. + +Sylvia would have liked to ask many things of her companion but his +attention was completely absorbed by the animals he drove. Also +talking was wellnigh impossible during that wild progress, for +though the horses presently sobered down somewhat, the roughness of +the way was such that most of the time her thoughts were +concentrated upon maintaining her seat. She clung to her perch +with both hands, and mutely admired Burke Ranger's firm control and +deftness. He seemed to know by instinct when to expect any sudden +strain. + +The heat of the sun was intense, notwithstanding the shelter +afforded by the hood of the cart. The air seemed to quiver above +the burning earth. She felt after a time as if her eyes could +endure the glare no longer. The rapid, bumping progress faded into +a sort of fitful unpleasant dream through which the only actual +vivid consciousness that remained to her centred in the man beside +her. She never lost sight of his presence. It dominated all +besides, though he drove almost entirely in silence and never +seemed to look her way. + +At the end of what appeared an interminable stretch of time during +which all her sensibilities had gradually merged into one vast +discomfort, Burke spoke at her side. + +"We've got a bit of tough going before us. Hang on tight! We'll +have a rest after it." + +She opened her eyes and saw before her a steep slant between +massive stones, leading down to a wide channel of running water. +On the further side a similar steep ascent led up again. + +"Ritter Spruit," said Ranger. "It's not deep enough to be +dangerous. Hold on! We shall soon be through." + +He spoke to the horses and they gathered themselves as if for a +race. They thundered down the incline and were dashing through the +stony watercourse almost before Sylvia, clinging dazed to her seat, +realized what was happening. Her sensations were indescribable. +The water splashed high around them, and every bone in her body +seemed to suffer a separate knock or jar. If Ranger had not +previously impressed her with his level-headedness she would have +thought him mad. But her confidence in him remained unshaken, and +in a very few seconds it proved to be justified. They were through +the spruit and halfway up the further side before she drew breath. +Then she found that they were slackening pace. + +She turned to Ranger with kindling eyes. "Oh, you are a +sportsman!" she said. "How I should love to be able to drive like +that!" + +He smiled without turning his head. "I'm afraid this last is a +man's job. So you are awake now, are you? I was afraid you were +going to tumble out." + +She laughed. "The heat makes one drowsy. I shall get used to it." + +He was pulling in the horses. "There's some shade round the +corner. We'll rest for an hour or two." + +"I shall like that," said Sylvia. + +A group of small larch-trees grew among the stones at the top of +the slope, and by these he stopped. Sylvia looked around her with +appreciation as she alighted. + +"I am going to like South Africa," she said, + +"I wonder!" said Ranger. + +He began to unbuckle the traces, and she went round to the other +side and did the same. + +"Poor dears, they are hot!" she said. + +"Don't you do that!" said Ranger. + +She was tugging at the buckle. "Why not? I like doing it. I love +horses, don't you? But I know you do by the way you handle them. +Do you do your own horse-breaking? That's a job you might give me." + +"Am I going to find you employment, then?" said Burke. + +She laughed a little, bending her flushed face down. "Don't women +do any work out here?" + +"Yes. They work jolly hard, some of 'em." + +"Are you married?" said Sylvia. + +"No." + +She heaved a sigh. + +"Sorry?" he enquired. + +She finished her task and looked up. Her frank eyes met his across +the horses' backs. "No. I think I'm rather glad. I don't like +feminine authority at all." + +"That means you like your own way," observed Burke. + +She nodded. "Yes. But I don't always get it." + +"Are you a good loser?" he said. + +She hesitated. "I hope I'm a sportsman. I try to be." + +He moved to the horses' heads. "Come and hold this animal for me +while I hobble the other!" he said. + +She obeyed him readily. There was something of boyish alertness in +her movements that sent a flicker of approval into the man's eyes. +She drew the horse's head to her breast with a crooning sound. + +"He is a bit tricky with strangers," observed Burke, as he led the +other away. + +"Oh, not with me!" said Sylvia, "He knows I love him." + +When he returned to relieve her of her charge she was kissing the +forehead between the full soft eyes that looked at her with perfect +confidence. + +"See!" she said. "We are friends already." + +"I shall call you The Enchantress," said Burke. "Will you see if +you can find a suitable spot for a picnic now?" + +"Yes, but I can't conjure up a meal," said Sylvia. + +"I can," he said. "There's a basket under the seat." + +"How ripping!" she said. "I think you are the magician." + +He smiled. "Rather a poor specimen, I am afraid. You go and +select the spot, and I will bring it along!" + +Again she obeyed with cheerful alacrity. Her choice was +unhesitating. A large boulder threw an inviting shade, and she sat +down among the stones and took off her hat. + +Her red-gold hair gleamed against the dark background. Burke +Ranger's eyes dwelt upon it as he moved to join her. She looked up +at him. + +"I love this place. It feels so--good." + +He glanced up at the brazen sky. "You wouldn't say so if you +wanted rain as badly as I do," he observed. "We haven't had nearly +enough this season. But I am glad you can enjoy it." + +"I like it more and more," said Sylvia. She stretched an arm +towards the wide veldt all about them. "I am simply aching for a +gallop over that--a gallop in the very early morning, and to see +the sun rise from that knoll!" + +"That's a _kopje_," said Burke. + +Again half-unconsciously his eyes dwelt upon her vivid face. She +seemed to draw his look almost in spite of him. He set down the +basket by her side. + +"Am I to unpack?" said Sylvia. + +He dropped his eyes. "No. I will. It isn't much of a feed; only +enough to keep us from starvation. Tell me some more about +yourself! Tell me about your people--your home!" + +"Have you never heard of me before?" she asked. "Did--Guy--never +speak of me?" + +"I knew there was someone." Burke spoke rather unwillingly. "I +don't think he ever actually spoke of you to me. We're not +exactly--kindred spirits, he and I." + +"You don't like him," said Sylvia. + +"Nor he me," said Burke Ranger. + +She looked at him with her candid eyes. "I don't think you are +very tolerant of weakness, are you?" she said gently. + +"I don't know," he said non-committally. "Won't you tell me about +yourself?" + +The subject of Guy was obviously distasteful to him, yet her whole +life during the past five years had been so closely linked to the +thought of that absent lover of hers that it was impossible to +speak of the one without the other. She told him all without +reservation, feeling in a fashion that it was his right to know. + +He listened gravely, without comment, until she ended, when he made +one brief observation. "And so you chose the deep sea!" + +"Could I have done anything else?" she said. "Would you have done +anything else?" + +"Probably not," he said. "But a man is better equipped to fight +the undercurrents!" + +"You think I was very rash?" she questioned. + +He smiled. "One doesn't look for caution in a girl. I think your +father deserved a horsewhipping, for letting you go." + +"He couldn't prevent me," said Sylvia quickly. + +"Pshaw!" said Burke Ranger. + +"You're very rude," she protested. + +His smile became a laugh. "I could have prevented you," he said. + +She flushed. "Indeed you couldn't! I am not a namby-pamby miss. I +go my own way. I----" + +She broke off suddenly. Burke's eyes, grey as steel in his +sun-tanned face, were upon her. He looked amused at her vehemence. + +"Well?" he said encouragingly. "Finish!" + +She laughed in spite of herself. "No, I shan't say any more. I +never argue with the superior male. I just--go my own way, that's +all." + +"From which I gather that you are not particularly partial to the +superior male," said Burke. + +"I hate the species," said Sylvia with simplicity. + +"Except when it kneels at your feet," he suggested, looking +ironical. + +"No, I want to kick it then," she said. + +"You seem difficult to please," he observed. + +Sylvia looked out across the _veldt_. "I like a man to be just a +jolly comrade," she said. "If he can't be that, I've no use for +him." + +"I see," said Burke slowly. "That's to be my _role_, is it?" + +She turned to him impulsively with extended hand. "I think you can +fill it if you try." + +He took the hand, grasping it strongly. "All right. I'll try," he +said. + +"You don't mind?" she said half-wistfully. "You see, it makes such +a difference to feel there's someone like that to turn to in +trouble--someone who won't let you down." + +"I shan't let you down," said Burke. + +Her fingers closed hard on his. "You're a brick," she said. "Now +let's have some lunch, and then, if you don't mind, I'm going to +sleep!" + +"Best thing you can do," said Burke. + +They rested for the greater part of the afternoon in the shadow of +their boulder. Sylvia lay with her head on a light rug that he +spread for her, and he sat with his back to the rock and smoked +with eyes fixed straight before him. + +Sleep came to the girl very quickly for she was tired, and her +healthy young body was swift to find repose. But the man, watching +beside her, did not even doze. He scarcely varied his position +throughout his vigil, scarcely glanced at the figure nestled in the +long grass so close to him. But his attitude had the alertness of +the man on guard, and his brown face was set in grimly resolute +lines. It gave no indication whatever of that which was passing in +his mind. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE ARRIVAL + +It was drawing towards evening when Sylvia at length stirred, +stretched, and opened her eyes. A momentary bewilderment showed in +them, then with a smile she saw and recognized her companion. + +She sat up quickly. "I must have been asleep for ages. Why didn't +you wake me?" + +"I didn't want to," he said. + +She looked at him. "What have you been doing? Have you been +asleep?" + +He raised his shoulders to the first question. To the second he +replied merely, "No." + +"Why didn't you smoke?" she asked next. + +For an instant he looked half-ashamed, then very briefly, "I don't +live on tobacco," he said. + +"How very silly of you!" said Sylvia. "It wouldn't have disturbed +me in the least. I smoke cigarettes myself." + +Burke said nothing. After a moment he got to his feet. + +"Time to go?" she said. + +"Yes. I think we ought to be moving. We have some miles to go +yet. You sit still while I get the horses in!" + +But Sylvia was on her feet. "No. I'm coming to help. I like to +do things. Isn't it hot? Do you think there will be a storm?" + +He looked up at the sky. "No, not yet. It'll take some time to +break. Are you afraid of storms?" + +"Of course not!" said Sylvia. + +He smiled at her prompt rejoinder. "Not afraid of anything?" he +suggested. + +She smiled back. "Not often anyway. And I hope I don't behave +like a muff even when I am." + +"I shouldn't think that very likely," he observed. + +They put in the horses, and started again across the veldt. The +burning air that blew over the hot earth was like a blast from a +furnace. Over the far hills the clouds hung low and menacing, A +mighty storm seemed to be brewing somewhere on the further side of +those distant heights. + +"It is as if someone had lighted a great fire just out of sight," +said Sylvia. "Is it often like this?" + +"Very often," said Burke. + +"How wonderful!" she said. + +They drove on rapidly, and as they went, the brooding cloud-curtain +seemed to advance to meet them, spreading ominously across the sky +as if it were indeed the smoke from some immense conflagration. + +Sylvia became silent, awed by the spectacle. + +All about them the veldt took on a leaden hue. The sun still +shone; but vaguely, as if through smoked glass. The heat seemed to +increase. + +Sylvia sat rapt. She did not for some time wake to the fact that +Burke was urging the horses, and only when they stretched +themselves out to gallop in response to his curt command did she +rouse from her contemplation to throw him a startled glance. He +was leaning slightly forward, and the look On his face sent a +curious thrill through her. It was the look of a man braced to +utmost effort. His eyes were fixed steadily straight ahead, +marking the road they travelled. His driving was a marvel of skill +and confidence. The girl by his side forgot to watch the storm in +front of them in her admiration of his ability. It was to her the +most amazing exhibition of strength and adroitness combined that +she had ever witnessed. The wild enjoyment of that drive was +fixed in her memory for all time. + +At the end of half-an-hour's rapid travelling a great darkness had +begun to envelope them, and obscurity so pall-like that even near +objects were seen as it were through a dark veil. + +Burke broke his long silence. "Only two miles more!" + +She answered him exultantly. "I could go on for ever!" + +They seemed to fly on the wings of the wind those last two miles. +She fancied that they had turned off the track and were racing over +the grass, but the darkness was such that she could discern nothing +with any certainty. At last there came a heavy jolting that flung +her against Burke's shoulder, and on the top of it a frightful +flash and explosion that made her think the earth had rent asunder +under their feet. + +Half-stunned and wholly blinded, she covered her face, crouching +down almost against the foot-board of the cart, while the dreadful +echoes rolled away. + +Then again came Burke's voice, brief yet amazingly reassuring. +"Get down and run in! It's all right." + +She realized that they had come to a standstill, and mechanically +she raised herself to obey him. + +As she groped for the step, he grasped her arm. "Get on to the +_stoep_! There's going to be rain. I'll be with you in a second." + +She thanked him, and found herself on the ground. A man in front +of her was calling out unintelligibly, and somewhere under cover a +woman's voice was uplifted in shrill tones of dismay. This latter +sound made her think of the chattering of an indignant monkey, so +shrill was it and so incessant. + +A dark pile of building stood before her, and she blundered towards +it, not seeing in the least where she was going. The next moment +she kicked against some steps, and sprawled headlong. + +Someone--Burke--uttered an oath behind her, and she heard him leap +to the ground. She made a sharp effort to rise, and cried out with +a sudden pain in her right knee that rendered her for an instant +powerless. Then she felt his hands upon her, beneath her. He +lifted her bodily and bore her upwards. + +She was still half-dazed when he set her down in a chair. She held +fast to his arm. "Please stay with me just a moment--just a +moment!" she besought him incoherently. + +He stayed, very steady and quiet beside her. "Are you hurt?" he +asked her. + +She fought with herself, but could not answer him. A ridiculous +desire to dissolve into tears possessed her. She gripped his arm +with both hands, saying no word. + +"Stick to it!" he said. + +"I--I'm an awful idiot!" she managed to articulate. + +"No, you're not. You're a brave girl," he said. "I was a fool not +to warn you. I forgot you didn't know your way. Did you hurt +yourself when you fell?" + +"My knee--a little," she said. "It'll be all right directly." She +released his arm. "Thank you. I'm better now. Oh, what is that? +Rain?" + +"Yes, rain," he said. + +It began like the rushing of a thousand wings, sweeping +irresistibly down from the hills. It swelled into a pandemonium of +sound that was unlike anything she had ever heard. It was as if +they had suddenly been caught by a seething torrent. Again the +lightning flared, dancing a quivering, zigzag measure across the +verandah in which she sat, and the thunder burst overhead, numbing +the senses. + +By that awful leaping glare Sylvia saw her companion. He was +stooping over her. He spoke; but she could not hear a word he +uttered. + +Then again his arms were about her and he lifted her. She yielded +herself to him with the confidence of a child, and he carried her +into his home while the glancing lightning showed the way. + +The noise within the house was less overwhelming. He put her down +on a long chair in almost total darkness, but a few moments later +the lightning glimmered again and showed her vividly the room in +which she lay. It was a man's room, half-office, half-lounge, +extremely bare, and devoid of all ornament with the exception of a +few native weapons on the walls. + +The kindling of a lamp confirmed this first impression, but the +presence of the man himself diverted her attention from her +surroundings. He turned from lighting the lamp to survey her. She +thought he looked somewhat stern. + +"What about this knee of yours?" he said. "Is it badly damaged?" + +"Oh, not badly," she answered. "I'm sure not badly. What a lot of +trouble I am giving you! I am so sorry." + +"You needn't be sorry on that account," he said. "I blame myself +alone. Do you mind letting me, see it? I am used to giving +first-aid." + +"Oh, I don't think that is necessary," said Sylvia. "I--can quite +easily doctor myself." + +"I thought we were to be comrades," he observed bluntly. + +She coloured and faintly laughed, "You can see it if you +particularly want to." + +"I do." said Burke. + +She sat up without further protest, and uncovered the injured knee +for his inspection. "I really don't think anything of a tumble +like that," she said, as he bent to examine it. But the next +moment at his touch she flinched and caught her breath. + +"That hurts, does it?" he said. "It's swelling up. I'm going to +get some hot water to bathe it." + +He stood up with the words and turned away. Sylvia leaned back +again, feeling rather sick. Certainly the pain was intense. + +The rain was still battering on the roof with a sound like the +violent jingling together of tin cans, She listened to it with a +dull wonder. The violence of it would have made a deeper +impression upon her had she been suffering less. But she felt as +one immersed in an evil dream which clogged all her senses save +that of pain. + +When Burke returned she was lying with closed eyes, striving hard +to keep herself under control. The clatter of the rain had abated +somewhat, and she heard him speak over his shoulder to someone +behind him. She looked up and saw an old Kaffir woman carrying a +basin. + +"This is Mary Ann," said Burke, intercepting her glance of +surprise. "A useful old dog except when there is any dope about! +Hope you don't mind niggers." + +"I shall get used to them," said Sylvia rather faintly. + +"There's nothing formidable about this one," he said, "She can't +help being hideous. She is quite tame." + +Sylvia tried to smile. Certainly Mary Ann was hideous, but her +lameness was equally obvious. She evidently stood in considerable +awe of her master, obeying his slightest behest with clumsy +solicitude and eyes that rolled unceasingly in his direction. + +Burke kept her in the room while he bathed the injury. He was very +gentle, and Sylvia was soon conscious of relief. When at length he +applied a pad soaked in ointment and proceeded to bandage with a +dexterity that left nothing to be desired, she told him with a +smile that he was as good as a professional. + +"One has to learn a little of this sort of thing," he said. "How +does it feel now?" + +"Much better," she answered. "I shall have forgotten all about it +by to-morrow." + +"No, you won't," said Burke. "You will rest it for three days at +least. You don't want to get water on the joint." + +"Three days!" she echoed in dismay, "I can't--possibly--lie up +here." + +He raised his eyes from his bandaging for a moment, and a curious +thrill went through her; it was as if his look pierced her. "The +impossible often happens here," he said briefly. + +She expressed a sharp tremor that caught her unawares. "What does +that mean?" she asked, striving to speak lightly. + +He replied with his eyes lowered again to his task. "It means +among other things that you can't get back to Ritzen until the +floods go down. Ritter Spruit is a foaming torrent by this time." + +"Good heavens!" she exclaimed. "But isn't there--isn't there a +bridge anywhere?" + +"Forty miles away," said Burke Ranger laconically. + +"Good--heavens!" she gasped again. + +He finished his bandaging and stood up. "Now I am going to carry +you to bed," he said, "and Mary Ann shall wait on you. You won't +be frightened?" + +She smiled in answer. "You've taken my breath away, but I shall +get it again directly. I don't think I want to go to bed yet. +Mayn't I stay here for a little?" + +He looked down at her. "You've got some pluck, haven't you?" he +said. + +She flushed. "I hope so--a little." + +He touched her shoulder unexpectedly, with a hint of awkwardness. +"I'm afraid I can only offer you--rough hospitality. It's the best +I can do. My guests have all been of the male species till now. +But you will put up with it? You won't be scared anyhow?" + +She reached up an impulsive hand and put it into his. "No, I +shan't be scared at all. You make me feel quite safe. I'm +only--more grateful than I can say." + +His fingers closed upon hers. "You've nothing to be grateful for. +Let me take you to the guestroom and Mary Ann shall bring you +supper. You'll be more comfortable there. Your baggage is there +already." + +She clung to his hand for an instant, caught by an odd feeling of +forlornness. "I will do whatever you wish. But--but--you will let +me see Guy in the morning?" + +He stooped to lift her. For a moment his eyes looked straight into +hers. Then: "Wait till the morning comes!" he said quietly. + +There was finality in his tone, and she knew that it was no moment +for discussion. With a short sigh she yielded to the inevitable, +and suffered him to carry her away. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE DREAM + +She had no further communication with Burke that night. The old +Kaffir woman helped her, brought her a meal on a tray, and waited +upon her until dismissed. + +Sylvia had no desire to detain her. She longed for solitude. The +thought of Guy tormented her perpetually. She ached and +yearned--even while she dreaded--to see him. But Burke had decreed +that she must wait till the morning, and she had found already that +what Burke decreed usually came to pass. Besides, she knew that +she was worn out and wholly unfit for any further strain. + +Very thankfully she sank down at last upon the bed in the bare +guest-room. Her weariness was such that she thought that she must +sleep, yet for hours she lay wide awake, listening to the rain +streaming down and pondering--pondering the future. Her romance +was ended. She saw that very clearly. Whatever came of her +meeting with Guy, it would not be--it could not be--the +consummation to which she had looked forward so confidently during +the past five years. Guy had failed her. She faced the fact with +all her courage. The Guy she had loved and trusted did not exist +any longer, if he ever had existed. Life had changed for her. The +path she had followed had ended suddenly. She must needs turn back +and seek another. But whither to turn she knew not. It seemed +that there was no place left for her anywhere. + +Slowly the long hours dragged away. She thought the night would +never pass. Her knee gave her a good deal of pain, and she +relinquished all hope of sleep. Her thoughts began to circle about +Burke Ranger in a worried, confused fashion. She felt she would +know him better when she had seen Guy. At present the likeness +between them alternately bewildered her or hurt her poignantly. +She could not close her mind to the memory of having taken him for +Guy. He was the sort of man--only less polished--that she had +believed Guy would become. She tried to picture him as he must +have been when younger, but she could see only Guy. And again the +bitter longing, the aching disappointment, tore her soul. + +Towards morning she dozed, but physical discomfort and torturing +anxiety went with her unceasingly, depriving her of any real +repose. She was vaguely aware of movements in the house long +before a low knock at the door called her back to full +consciousness. + +She started up on her elbows. "Come in! I am awake." + +Burke Ranger presented himself. "I was afraid Mary Ann might give +you a shock if she woke you suddenly," he said. "Can I come in?" + +"Please do!" she said. + +The sight of his tanned face and keen eyes came as a great relief +to her strained and weary senses. She held out a welcoming hand, +dismissing convention as superfluous. + +He came to her side and took her hand, but in a moment his fingers +were feeling for her pulse. He looked straight down at her. +"You've had a bad night," he said. + +She admitted it, mustering a smile as she did so. "It rained so +hard, I couldn't forget it. Has it left off yet?" + +He paid no attention whatever to the question. "What's the +trouble?" he said. "Knee bad?" + +"Not very comfortable," she confessed. "It will be better +presently, no doubt." + +"I'll dress if again," said Burke, "when you've had some tea. You +had better stay in bed to-day." + +"Oh, must I?" she said in dismay. + +"Don't you want to?" said Burke. + +"No. I hate staying in bed. It makes me so miserable." She spoke +with vehemence. Besides--besides----" + +"Yes?" he said. + +"I want--to see Guy," she ended, colouring very deeply. + +"That's out of the question," said Burke, with quiet decision. +"You certainly won't see him to-day." + +"Oh, but I must! I really must!" she pleaded desperately. "My +knee isn't very bad. Have you--have you told him I am here yet?" + +"No," said Burke. + +"Then won't you? Please won't you?" She was urging him almost +feverishly now. "I can't rest till I have seen him--indeed. I +can't see my way clearly. I can't do anything until--until I have +seen him." + +Burke was frowning. He looked almost savage, But she was not +afraid of him. She could think only of Guy at that moment and of +her urgent need to see him. It was all that mattered. With nerves +stretched and quivering, she waited for his answer. + +It did not come immediately. He was still holding her hand in one +of his and feeling her pulse with the other. + +"Listen!" he said at length. "There is no need for all this +wearing anxiety. You must make up your mind to rest to-day, or you +will be ill. It won't hurt you--or him either--to wait a few hours +longer." + +"I shan't be ill!" she assured him earnestly. "I am never ill. +And I want to see him--oh, so much. I must see him. He isn't--he +isn't worse?" + +"No," said Burke. + +"Then why mustn't I see him?" she urged. "Why do you look like +that? Are you keeping back something? Has--has something happened +that you don't want me to know? Ah, that is it! I thought so! +Please tell me what it is! It is far better to tell me." + +She drew her hand from his and sat up, steadily facing him. She +was breathing quickly, but she had subdued her agitation. Her eyes +met his unflinchingly. + +He made an abrupt gesture--as if compelled against his will. +"Well--if you must have it! He has gone." + +"Gone!" she repeated. "What--do you mean by that?" + +He looked down into her whitening face, and his own grew sterner. +"Just what I say. He cleared out yesterday morning early. No one +knows where he is." + +Sylvia's hand unconsciously pressed her heart. It was beating very +violently. She spoke with a great effort. "Perhaps he has gone to +Ritzen--to look for me." + +"I think not," said Burke drily. + +His tone said more than his words. She made a slight involuntary +movement of shrinking. But in a moment she spoke again with a +pathetic little smile. + +"You are very good to me. But I mustn't waste any more of your +time. Please don't worry about me any more! I can quite well +bandage my knee myself." + +The grimness passed from his face. "I shall have to see it to +satisfy myself it is going on all right," he said. "But I needn't +bother you now. I'll send Mary Ann in with some tea." + +"Thank you," said Sylvia. She was gathering her scattered forces +again after the blow; she spoke with measured firmness. "Now +please don't think about me any more! I am not ill--or going to be. +You may look at my knee this evening--if you are very anxious. But +not before." + +"Then you will stay in bed?" said Burke. + +"Very well; if I must," she conceded. + +He turned to go; then abruptly turned back. "And you won't lie and +worry? You've too much pluck for that." + +She smiled again--a quivering, difficult smile. "I am not at all +plucky, really. I am only pretending." + +He smiled back at her suddenly. "You're a brick! I've never seen +any woman stand up to hard knocks as you do. They generally want +to be carried over the rough places. But you--you stand on your +feet." + +The genuine approbation of his voice brought the colour back to her +face. His smile too, though it reminded her piercingly of Guy, +sent a glow of comfort to her chilled and trembling heart. + +"I want to if I can," she said. "But I've had rather a--knock-out +this time. I shall be all right presently, when I've had time to +pull myself together." + +He bent abruptly and laid his hand upon hers. + +"Look here!" he said. "Don't worry!" + +She lifted clear eyes to his. "No--I won't! There is always a way +out of every difficulty, isn't there?" + +"There certainly is out of this one," he said. + +"I'll show it you presently--if you'll promise not to be offended." + +"Offended!" said Sylvia. "That isn't very likely, is it?" + +"I don't know," said Burke. "I hope not. Good-bye!" He +straightened himself, stood a moment looking down at her, then +turned finally and left her. + +There was something in the manner of his going that made her wonder. + +The entrance of the old Kaffir woman a few minutes later diverted +her thoughts. She found Mary Ann an interesting study, being the +first of her kind that she had viewed at close quarters. She was +very stout and ungainly. She moved with elephantine clumsiness, +but her desire to please was so evident that Sylvia could not +regard her as wholly without charm. Her dog-like amiability +outweighed her hideousness. She found it somewhat difficult to +understand Mary Ann's speech, for it was more like the chattering +of a monkey than human articulation, and being very weary she did +not encourage her to talk. + +There was so much to think about, and for a while her tired brain +revolved around Guy and all that his departure meant to her. She +tried to take a practical view of the situation, to grapple with +the difficulties that confronted her. Was there the smallest +chance of his return? And even if he returned, what could it mean +to her? Would it help her in any way? It was impossible to evade +the answer to that question. He had failed her finally. She was +stranded in a strange land and only her own efforts could avail her +now. + +She wondered if Burke would urge her to return to her father's +house. If so, he would not succeed. She would face any hardship +sooner than that. She was not afraid of work. She would make a +living for herself somehow if she worked in the fields with Kaffir +women. She would be independent or die in the attempt. After all, +she reflected forlornly, it would not matter very much to anyone if +she did die. She stood or fell alone. + +Thought became vague at last and finally obscured in the mists of +sleep. She lay still on the narrow bed and slept long and deeply. + +It must have been after several hours that her dream came to her. +It arose out of a sea of oblivion--a vision unsummoned, wholly +unexpected. She saw Burke Ranger galloping along the side of a dry +and stony ravine where doubtless water flowed in torrents when the +rain came. He was bending low in the saddle, his dark face set +forward scanning the path ahead. With a breathless interest she +watched him, and the thunder of his horse's hoofs drummed in her +brain. Suddenly, turning her eyes further along the course he +followed, she saw with horror round a bend that which he could not +see. She beheld another horseman galloping down from the opposite +direction. The face of this horseman was turned from her, but she +did not need to see it. She knew, as it is given in dreams to know +beyond all doubting, that it was Guy. She recognized his easy seat +in the saddle, the careless grace of his carriage. He was plunging +straight ahead with never a thought of danger, and though he must +have seen the turn as he approached it, he did not attempt to check +the animal under him. Rather he seemed to be urging it forward. +And ever the thunder of the galloping hoofs filled her brain. + +Tensely she watched, in a suspense that racked her whole body. Guy +reached the bend first. There was room for only one upon that +narrow ledge. He went round the curve with the confidence of one +who fully expected a clear path ahead. And then--on the very edge +of the precipice--he caught sight of the horseman galloping towards +him. He reined back. He threw up one hand as his animal staggered +under him, and called a warning. But the thudding of the hoofs +drowned all other sound. + +Sylvia's heart stood still as if it could never beat again. Her +look flashed to Burke Ranger. He was galloping still--galloping +hard. One glimpse she had of his face as he drew near, and she +knew that he saw the man ahead of him, for it was set and +terrible--the face of a devil. + +The next instant she heard the awful crash of collision. There was +a confusion indescribable, there on the very brink of the ravine. +Then one horse and its rider went hurling headlong down that wall +of stones. The other horseman struck spurs into his animal and +galloped up the narrow path to the head of the ravine without a +backward glance. + +She was left transfixed by horror in a growing darkness that seemed +to penetrate to her very soul. Which of the two had galloped free? +Which lay shattered there, very far below her in an abyss that had +already become obscure? She agonized to know, but the darkness hid +all things. At last she tore it aside as if it had been a veil. +She went down, down into that deep place. She stumbled through a +valley of awful desolation till she came to that which she +sought;--a fallen horse, a rider with glassy eyes upturned. + +But the hand of Death had wiped out every distinguishing mark. Was +it Guy? Was it Burke? She knew not. She turned from the sight +with dread unspeakable. She went from the accursed spot with the +anguish of utter bewilderment in her soul. She was bereft of all. +She walked alone in a land of strangers. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE CROSS-ROADS + +When Sylvia started awake from that terrible dream it was to hear +the tread of horses' feet outside the house and the sound of men's +voices talking to each other. As she listened, these drew nearer, +and soon she heard footsteps on the _stoep_ outside. It was +drawing towards sunset, and she realized that she had slept for a +long time. + +She felt refreshed in spite of her dream and very thankful to +regain possession of her waking senses. Her knee too was decidedly +better. She found with relief that with care she could use it. + +The smell of tobacco wafted in, and she realized that the two men +were sitting smoking together on the _stoep_. One of them, she +felt sure, was Burke Ranger, though it very soon dawned upon her +that they were conversing in Dutch. She lay for awhile watching +the orange light of evening gleaming through the creeper that +entwined the comer of the _stoep_ outside her window. Then, +growing weary of inaction, she slipped from her bed and began to +dress. + +Her cabin-trunk had been placed in a corner of the bare room. She +found her key and opened it. + +Guy's photograph--the photograph she had cherished for five +years--lay on the top. She saw it with a sudden, sharp pang, +remembering how she had put it in at the last moment and smiled to +think how soon she would behold him in the flesh. The handsome, +boyish face looked straight into hers. Ah, how she had loved him. +A swift tremor went through her. She closed her eyes upon the +smiling face. And suddenly great tears welled up from her heart. +She laid her face down upon the portrait and wept. + +The voices on the _stoep_ recalled her. She remembered that she +had a reputation for courage to maintain. She commanded herself +with an effort and finished her dressing. She did not dare to look +at the portrait again, but hid it deep in her trunk. + +Mary Ann seemed to have forsaken her, and she was in some +uncertainty as to how to proceed when she was at length ready to +leave her room. She did not want to intrude upon Burke and his +visitor, but a great longing to breathe the air of the _veldt_ was +upon her. She wondered if she could possibly escape unseen. + +Finally, she ventured out into the passage, and followed it to an +open door that seemed to lead whither she desired to go. She +fancied that it was out of sight of the two men on the _stoep_, but +as she reached it, she realized her mistake. For there fell a +sudden step close to her, and as she paused irresolute, Burke's +figure blocked the opening. He stood looking at her, pipe in hand. + +"So--you are up!" he said. + +His voice was quite friendly, yet she was possessed by a strong +feeling that he did not want her there. + +She looked back at him in some embarrassment. "I hope you don't +mind," she said. "I was only coming out for a breath of air." + +"Why should I mind?" said Burke. "Come and sit on the _stoep_! My +neighbour, Piet Vreiboom, is there, but he is just going." + +He spoke the last words with great distinctness, and it occurred to +her that he meant them to be overheard. + +She hung back. "Oh, I don't think I will. I can't talk Dutch. +Really I would rather----" + +"He understands a little English," said Burke. "But don't be +surprised at anything he says! He isn't very perfect." + +He stood against the wall for her to pass him, and she did so with +a feeling that she had no choice. Very reluctantly she moved out +on to the wooden _stoep_, and turned towards the visitor. The +orange of the sunset was behind her, turning her hair to living +gold. It fell full upon the face of the man before her, and she +was conscious of a powerful sense of repugnance. Low-browed, +wide-nosed, and prominent of jaw, with close-set eyes of monkeyish +craft, such was the countenance of Piet Vreiboom. He sat and +stared at her, his hat on his head, his pipe in his mouth. + +"How do you do, Mrs. Ranger?" he said. + +Sylvia checked her advance, but in a moment Burke Ranger's hand +closed, upon her elbow, quietly impelling her forward. + +"Mr. Vreiboom saw you with me at Ritzen yesterday," he said, and +she suddenly remembered the knot of Boer farmers at the hotel-door +and the staring eyes that had abashed her. + +She glanced up at Burke, but his face was quite emotionless. Only +something about him--an indefinable something--held her back from +correcting the mistake that Vreiboom had made. She looked at the +seated Boer with a dignity wholly unconscious. "How do you do?" +she said coolly. + +He stretched out a hand to her. His smile was familiar. "I hope +you like the farm, Mrs. Ranger," he said. + +"She has hardly seen it yet," said Burke. + +There was a slight pause before Sylvia gave her hand. This man +filled her with distaste. She resented his manner. She resented +the look in his eyes. + +"I have no doubt I shall like it very much," she said, removing her +hand as speedily as possible. + +"You like to be--a farmer's wife?" questioned Piet, still freely +staring. + +She resented this question also, but she had to respond to it. "It +is what I came out for," she said. + +"You do not look like a farmer's wife," said Piet. + +Sylvia stiffened. + +"Give him a little rope!" said Burke. "He doesn't know much. Sit +down! I'll get him on the move directly." + +She sat down not very willingly, and he resumed his talk with +Vreiboom in Dutch, lounging against the wall. Sylvia sat quite +silent, her eyes upon the glowing sky and the far-away hills. In +the foreground was a _kopje_ shaped like a sugar-loaf. She wished +herself upon its summit which was bathed in the sunset light. + +Once or twice she was moved to glance up at the brown face of the +man who leaned between herself and the objectionable visitor. His +attitude was one of complete ease, and yet something told her that +he desired Piet's departure quite as sincerely as she did. + +He must have given a fairly broad hint at last, she decided; for +Piet moved somewhat abruptly and knocked out the ashes of his pipe +on the floor with a noisy energy that made her start. Then he got +up and addressed her in his own language. She did not understand +in the least what he said, but she gave him a distant smile +realizing that he was taking leave of her. She was somewhat +surprised to see Burke take him unceremoniously by the shoulder as +he stood before her and march him off the stoep. Piet himself +laughed as if he had said something witty, and there was that in +the laugh that sent the colour naming to her cheeks. + +She quivered with impotent indignation as she sat. She wished with +all her heart that Burke would kick him down the steps. + +The sunset-light faded, and a soft dusk stole up over the wide +spaces. A light breeze cooled her hot face, and after the lapse of +a few minutes she began to chide herself for her foolishness. +Probably the man had not meant to be offensive. She was certain +Burke would never permit her to be insulted in his presence. She +heard the sound of hoof-beats retreating away into the distance, +and, with it, the memory of her dream came back upon her. She felt +forlorn and rather frightened. It was only a dream of course; it +was only a dream! But she wished that Burke would come back to +her. His substantial presence would banish phantoms. + +He did not come for some time, but she heard his step at last. And +then a strange agitation took her so that she wanted to spring up +and avoid him. She did not do so; she forced herself to appear +normal. But every nerve tingled as he approached, and she could +not keep the quick blood from her face. + +He was carrying a tray which he set down on a rough wooden table +near her. + +"You must be famished," he said. + +She had not thought of food, but certainly the sight of it cheered +her failing spirits. She smiled at him. + +"Are we going to have another picnic?" + +He smiled in answer, and she felt oddly relieved, All sense of +strain and embarrassment left her. She sat up and helped him +spread the feast. + +The fare was very simple, but she found it amply satisfying. She +partook of Mary Ann's butter with appreciation. + +"I can make butter," she told him presently. "And bake bread?" +said Burke. + +She nodded, laughing. "Yes, and cook joints and mend clothes, too. +Who does your mending? Mary Ann?" + +"I do my own," said Burke. "I cook, too, when Mary Ann takes leave +of absence. But I have a Kaffir house boy, Joe, for the odd jobs. +And there's a girl, too, uglier than Mary Ann, a relation of +hers--called Rose, short for Fair Rosamond. Haven't you seen Rose +yet?" + +Sylvia's laugh brought a smile to his face. It was a very +infectious laugh. Though she sobered almost instantly, it left a +ripple of mirth behind on the surface of their conversation. He +carried the tray away again when the meal was over, firmly refusing +her offer to wash up. + +"Mary Ann can do it in the morning," he said. + +"Where is she now?" asked Sylvia. + +He sat down beside her, and took out his pipe. "They are over in +their own huts. They don't sleep in the house." + +"Does no one sleep in the house?" she asked quickly. + +"I do," said Burke. + +A sudden silence fell. The dusk had deepened into a starlit +darkness, but there was a white glow behind the hills that seemed +to wax with every instant that passed. Very soon the whole _veldt_ +would be flooded with moonlight. + +In a very small voice Sylvia spoke at length. + +"Mr. Ranger!" + +It was the first time she had addressed him by name. He turned +directly towards her. "Call me Burke!" he said. + +It was almost a command. She faced him as directly as he faced +her. "Burke--if you wish it!" she said. "I want to talk things +over with you, to thank you for your very great goodness to me, +and--and to make plans for the future." + +"One moment!" he said. "You have given up all thought of marrying +Guy?" + +She hesitated. "I suppose so," she said slowly. + +"Don't you know your own mind?" he said. + +Still she hesitated. "If--if he should come back----" + +"He will come back," said Burke. + +She started. "He will?" + +"Yes, he will." His voice held grim confidence, and somehow it +sounded merciless also to her ears. "He'll turn up again some day. +He always does. I'm about the only man in South Africa who +wouldn't kick him out within six months. He knows that. That's +why he'll come back." + +"You are--good to him," said Sylvia, her voice very low. + +"No, I'm not; not specially. He knows what I think of him anyhow." +Burke spoke slowly. "I've done what I could for him, but he's one +of my failures. You've got to grasp the fact that he's a rotter. +Have you grasped that yet?" + +"I'm beginning to," Sylvia said, under her breath. + +"Then you can't--possibly--many him," said Burke. + +She lowered her eyes before the keenness of his look. She wished +the light in the east were not growing so rapidly. + +"The question is, What am I going to do?" she said. + +Burke was silent for a moment. Then with a slight gesture that +might have denoted embarrassment he said, "You don't want to stay +here, I suppose?" + +She looked up again quickly. "Here--on this farm, do you mean?" + +"Yes." He spoke brusquely, but there was a certain eagerness in +his attitude as he leaned towards her. + +A throb of gratitude went through her. She put out her hand to him +very winningly. "What a pity I'm not a boy!" she said, genuine +regret in her voice. + +He took her hand and kept it. "Is that going to make any +difference?" he said. + +She looked at him questioningly. It was difficult to read his face +in the gloom. "All the difference, I am afraid," she said. "You +are very generous--a real good comrade. If I were a boy, there's +nothing I'd love better. But, being a woman, I can't live here +alone with you, can I? Not even in South Africa!" + +"Why not?" he said. + +His hand grasped hers firmly; she grasped his in return. "You +heard what your Boer friend called me," she said. "He wouldn't +understand anything else." + +"I told him to call you that," said Burke. + +"You--told him!" She gave a great start. His words amazed her. + +"Yes." There was a dogged quality in his answer. "I had to +protect you somehow. He had seen us together at Ritzen. I said +you were my wife." + +Sylvia gasped in speechless astonishment. + +He went on ruthlessly. "It was the only thing to do. They're not +a particularly moral crowd here, and, as you say, they wouldn't +understand anything else--decent. Do you object to the idea? Do +you object very strongly?" + +There was something masterful in the persistence with which he +pressed the question. Sylvia had a feeling as of being held down +and compelled to drink some strangely paralyzing draught. + +She made a slight, half-scared movement and in a moment his hand +released hers. + +"You do object!" he said. + +She clasped her hands tightly together. "Please don't say--or +think--that! It is such a sudden idea, and--it's rather a wild +one, isn't it?" Her breath came quickly. "If--if I agreed--and +let the pretence go on--people would be sure to find out sooner or +later. Wouldn't they?" + +"I am not suggesting any pretence," he said. + +"What do you mean then?" Sylvia said, compelling herself to speak +steadily. + +"I am asking you to marry me," he said, with equal steadiness. + +"Really, do you mean? You are actually in earnest?" Her voice had +a sharp quiver in it. She was trembling suddenly. "Please be +quite plain with me!" she said. "Remember, I don't know you very +well. I have got to get used to the ways out here." + +"I am quite in earnest," said Burke. "You know me better than you +knew the man you came out here to marry. And you will get used to +things more quickly married to me than any other way. At least you +will have an assured position. That ought to count with you." + +"Of course it would! It does!" she said rather incoherently. +"But--you see--I've no one to help me--no one to advise me. I'm on +a road I don't know. And I'm so afraid of taking a wrong turning." + +"Afraid!" he said. "You!" + +She tried to laugh. "You think me a very bold person, don't you? +Or you wouldn't have suggested such a thing." + +"I think you've got plenty of grit," he said, "but that wasn't what +made me suggest it." He paused a moment. "Perhaps it's hardly +worth while going on," he said then. "I seem to have gone too far +already. Please believe I meant well, that's all!" + +"Oh, I know that!" she said. + +And then, moved by a curious impulse, she did an extraordinary +thing. She leaned forward and laid her clasped hands on his knee. + +"I'm going to be--awfully frank with you," she said rather +tremulously. You--won't mind?'' + +He sat motionless for a second. Then very quietly he dropped his +pipe back into his pocket and grasped her slender wrists. "Go on!" +he said. + +Her face was lifted, very earnest and appealing, to his. "You +know," she said, "we are not strangers. We haven't been from the +very beginning. We started comrades, didn't we?" + +"We should have been married by this time, if I hadn't put the +brake on," said Burke. + +"Yes," Sylvia said. "I know. That is what makes me feel +so--intimate with you. But it is different for you. I am a total +stranger to you. You have never met me--or anyone like me--before. +Have you?" + +"And I have never asked anyone to marry me before," said Burke. + +The wrists he held grew suddenly rigid. "You have asked me out +of--out of pity--and the goodness of your heart?" she whispered. + +"Quite wrong," said Burke. "I want a capable woman to take care of +me--when Mary Ann goes on the bust." + +"Please don't make me laugh!" begged Sylvia rather shakily. "I +haven't done yet. I'm going to ask you an awful thing next. +You'll tell me the truth, won't you?" + +"I'll tell you before you ask," he said. "I can be several kinds +of beast, but not the kind you are afraid of. I am not a faddist, +but I am moral. I like it best." + +The curt, distinct words were too absolute to admit of any doubt. +Sylvia breathed a short, hard sigh. + +"I wonder," she said, "if it would be very wrong to marry a person +you only like." + +"Marriage is a risk--in any case," said Burke. "But if you're not +blindly in love, you can at least see where you are going." + +"I can't," she said rather piteously. + +"You're afraid of me," he said. + +"No, not really--not really. It's almost as big a risk for you as +for me. You haven't bothered about--my morals, have you?" Her +faint laugh had in it a sound of tears. + +The hands that held her wrists closed with a steady pressure. "I +haven't," said Burke with simplicity. + +"Thank you," she said. "You've been very kind to me. Really I am +not afraid of you." + +"Sure?" said Burke. + +"Only I still wish I were a boy," she said. "You and I could be +just pals then." + +"And why not now?" he said. + +"Is it possible?" she asked. + +"I should say so. Why not?" + +She freed her hands suddenly and laid them upon his arms. "If I +marry you, will you treat me just as a pal?" + +"I will," said Burke. + +She was still trembling a little. "You won't interfere with +my--liberty?" + +"Not unless you abuse it," he said. + +She laughed again faintly. "I won't do that. I'll be a model of +discretion. You may not think it, but I am--very discreet." + +"I am sure of it," said Burke. + +"No, you're not. You're not in the least sure of anything where I +am concerned. You've only known me--two days." + +He laughed a little. "It doesn't matter how long it has taken. I +know you." + +She laughed with him, and sat up, "What must you have thought of me +when I told you you hadn't shaved?" + +He took out his pipe again. "If you'd been a boy, I should +probably have boxed your ears," he said. "By the way, why did you +get up when I told you to stay in bed?" + +"Because I knew best what was good for me," said Sylvia. "Have you +got such a thing as a cigarette?" + +He got up. "Yes, in my room. Wait while I fetch them!" + +"Oh, don't go on purpose!" she said. "I daresay I shouldn't like +your kind, thanks all the same." + +He went nevertheless, and she leaned back with her face to the +hills and waited. The moon was just topping the great summits. +She watched it with a curious feeling of weakness. It had not been +a particularly agitating interview, but she knew that she had just +passed a cross-roads, in her life. + +She had taken a road utterly unknown to her and though she had +taken it of her own accord, she did not feel that the choice had +really been hers. Somehow her faculties were numbed, were +paralyzed. She could not feel the immense importance of what she +had done, or realize that she had finally, of her own action, +severed her life from Guy's. He had become such a part of herself +that she could not all at once divest herself of that waiting +feeling, that confident looking forward to a future with him. And +yet, strangely, her memory of him had receded into distance, become +dim and remote. In Burke's presence she could not recall him at +all. The two personalities, dissimilar though she knew them to be, +seemed in some curious fashion to have become merged into one. She +could not understand her own feelings, but she was conscious of +relief that the die was cast. Whatever lay before her, she was +sure of one thing. Burke Ranger would be her safeguard against any +evil that might arise and menace her. His protection was of the +solid quality that would never fail her. She felt firm ground +beneath her feet at last. + +At the sound of his returning step, she turned with the moonlight +on her face and smiled up at him with complete confidence. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE STALE + +Whenever in after days Sylvia looked back upon her marriage, it +seemed to be wrapped in a species of hazy dream like the early +mists on that far-off range of hills. + +They did not go again to Ritzen, but to a town of greater +importance further down the line, a ride of nearly forty miles +across the _veldt_. It was a busy town in the neighbourhood of +some mines, and its teeming life brought back again to her that +sense of aloneness in a land of strangers that had so oppressed her +in the beginning. It drove her to seek Burke's society whenever +possible. He was the shield between her and desolation, and in his +presence her misgivings always faded into the background. He knew +some of the English people at Brennerstadt, but she dreaded meeting +them, and entreated him not to introduce anyone to her until they +were married. + +"People are all so curious. I can't face it," she said. "Mine is +rather a curious story, too. It will only set them talking, and I +do so hate gossip." + +He smiled a little and conceded the point. And so she was still a +stranger to everyone on the day she laid her hand in Burke's and +swore to be faithful to him. The marriage was a civil one. That +also robbed it of all sense of reality for her. The ceremony left +her cold. It did not touch so much as the outer tissues of her +most vital sensibilities. She even felt somewhat impatient of the +formalities observed, and very decidedly glad when they were over. + +"Now let's go for a ride and forget it all!" she said. "We'll have +a picnic on the _veldt_." + +They had their picnic, but the heat was so great as to rob it of +much enjoyment. Sylvia was charmed by a distant view of a herd of +springbok, and her eyes shone momentarily when Burke said that they +would have to do some shooting together. But almost immediately +she shook her head. + +"No, they are too pretty to kill. I love the hunt, but I hate the +kill. Besides, I shall be too busy. If I am going to be your +partner, one of us will have to do some work." + +He laughed at that. "When do you want to begin?" + +"Very soon," she said energetically. "Tomorrow if you like. I +don't think much of Brennerstadt, do you? It's such a barren sort +of place." He looked at her. "I believe you'll hate the winter on +the farm." + +"No, I shan't. I shan't hate anything. I'm not so silly as to +expect paradise all the time." + +"Is this paradise?" said Burke. + +She glanced at him quickly. "No, I didn't say that. But I am +enjoying it. And," she flushed slightly, "I am very grateful to +you for making that possible." + +"You've nothing to be grateful to me for," he said. + +"Only I can't help it," said Sylvia. + +Burke's eyes were scanning the far stretch of _veldt_ towards the +sinking sun, with a piercing intentness. She wondered what he was +looking for. + +There fell a silence between them, and a vague feeling of +uneasiness began to grow up within her. His brown face was +granite-like in its immobility, but it was exceedingly grim. + +Something stirred within her at last, impelling her to action. She +got up. + +"Do you see that blasted tree right away over there with horrid +twisted arms that look as if they are trying to clutch at +something?" + +His eyes came up to hers on the instant. "What of it?" he said. + +She laughed down at him. "Let's mount! I'll race you to it." + +He leapt to his feet like, a boy. "What's the betting?" + +"Anything you like!" she threw back gaily. "Whoever gets there +first can fix the stakes." + +He laughed aloud, and the sound of his laugh made her catch her +breath with a sharp, involuntary start. She ran to her mount +feeling as if Guy were behind her, and with an odd perversity she +would not look round to disillusion herself. + +During the fevered minutes that followed, the illusion possessed +her strongly, so strongly that she almost forgot the vital +importance of being first. It was the thudding hoofs of his +companion that made her animal gallop rather than any urging of +hers. But once started, with the air swirling past her and the +excitement of rapid motion setting her veins on fire, the spirit of +the race caught her again, and she went like the wind. + +The blasted tree stood on a slope nearly a mile away. The ground +was hard, and the grass seemed to crackle under the galloping +hoofs. The horse she rode carried her with superb ease. He was +the finest animal she had ever ridden, and from the first she +believed the race was hers. + +On she went through the orange glow of evening. It was like a +swift entrancing dream. And the years fell away from her as if +they had never been, and she and Guy were racing over the slopes of +her father's park, as they had raced in the old sweet days of youth +and early love. She heard him urging his horse behind her, and +remembered how splendid he always looked in the saddle. + +The distance dwindled. The stark arms of the naked tree seemed to +be stretching out to receive her. But he was drawing nearer also. +She could hear the thunder of his animal's hoofs close behind. She +bent low in the saddle, gasping encouragement to her own. + +There came a shout beside her--a yell of triumph such as Guy had +often uttered. He passed her and drew ahead. That fired her. She +saw victory being wrested from her. + +She cried back at him "You--bounder!" and urged her horse to fresh +effort. + +The ground sped away beneath her. The heat-haze seemed to spin +around. Her eyes were fixed upon their goal, her whole being was +concentrated upon reaching it. In the end it was as if the ruined +tree shot towards her. The race was over. A great giddiness came +upon her. She reeled in the saddle. + +And then a hand caught her; or was it one of those outstretched +skeleton arms? For a moment she hung powerless; then she was drawn +close--close--to a man's breast, and felt the leap and throb of a +man's heart against her own. + +Breathless and palpitating, she lifted her face. His eyes looked +deeply into hers, eyes that glowed like molten steel, and in an +instant her illusion was swept away. It seemed to her that for the +first time she looked upon Burke Ranger as he was, and her whole +being recoiled in sudden wild dismay from what she saw. + +"Ah! Let me go!" she said. + +He held her still, but his hold slackened. "I won the race," he +said. + +"Yes, but--but it was only a game," she gasped back incoherently. +"You--you can't--you won't----" + +"Kiss you?" he said. "Not if you forbid it." That calmed her very +strangely. His tone was so quiet; it revived her courage. She +uttered a faint laugh. "Is that the stake? I can't refuse to +pay--a debt of honour." + +"Thank you," he said, and she saw a curious smile gleam for a +moment on his face. "That means you are prepared to take me like a +nasty pill, doesn't it? I like your pluck. It's the best thing +about you. But I won't put it to the test this time." + +He made as if he would release her, but with an odd impulse she +checked him. Somehow it was unbearable to be humoured like that. +She looked him straight in the eyes. + +"We are pals, aren't we?" she said. + +The smile still lingered on Burke's face; it had an enigmatical +quality that disquieted her, she could not have said wherefore. +"It's rather an ambiguous term, isn't it?" he said. + +"No, it isn't," she assured him, promptly and Very earnestly. "It +means that we are friends, but we are not in love and we are not +going to pretend we are. At least," she flushed suddenly under his +look, "that is what it means to me." + +"I see," said Burke. "And what would happen if we fell in love +with each other?" + +Her eyes sank in spite of her. "I don't think we need consider +that," she said. + +"Why not?" said Burke. + +"I could never be in love with anyone again," she said, her voice +very low. + +"Quite sure?" said Burke. + +Something in his tone made her look up sharply. His eyes were +intently and critically upon her, but the glow had gone out of +them. They told her nothing. + +"Do you think we need discuss this subject?" she asked him uneasily. + +"Not if you prefer to shirk it," he said. She flushed a little. +"But I don't shirk. I'm not that sort." + +"No," he said. "I don't think you are. You may be frightened, but +you won't run away." + +"But I'm not frightened," she asserted boldly, looking him squarely +in the face. "We are friends, you and I. And--we are going to +trust each other. Being married isn't going to make any difference +to us. It was just a matter of convenience and--we are going to +forget it." + +She paused. Burke's face had not altered. He was looking back at +her with perfectly steady eyes. + +"Very simple in theory," he said. "Won't you finish?" + +"That's all," she said lightly. "Except--if you really want to +kiss me now and then--you can do so. Only don't be silly about it!" + +Burke's quick movement of surprise told her that this was +unexpected. The two horses had recovered their wind and begun to +nibble at one another. He checked them with a growling rebuke. +Then very quietly he placed Sylvia's bridle in her hand, and put +her from him. + +"Thank you," he said again. "But you mustn't be too generous at +the outset. I might begin to expect too much. And that would +be--silly of me, wouldn't it?" + +There was no bitterness in voice or action, but there was +unmistakable irony. A curious sense of coldness came upon her, as +if out of the heart a distant storm-cloud an icy breath had reached +her. + +She looked at him rather piteously. "You are not angry?" she said. + +He leaned back in the saddle to knock a blood-sucking fly off his +horse's flank. Then he straightened himself and laughed. + +"No, not in the least," he said. + +She knew that he spoke the truth, yet her heart misgave her. There +was something baffling, something almost sinister to her, in the +very carelessness of his attitude. She turned her horse's head and +walked soberly away. + +He did not immediately follow her, and after a few moments she +glanced back for him. He had dismounted and was scratching +something on the trunk of the blasted tree with a knife. The +withered arms stretched out above his head. They looked weirdly +human in the sunset glow. She wished he would not linger in that +eerie place. + +She waited for him, and he came at length, riding with his head up +and a strange gleam of triumph in his eyes. + +"What were you doing?" she asked him, as he joined her. + +He met her look with a directness oddly disconcerting. "I was +commemorating the occasion, he said. + +"What do you mean?" she said. + +"Never mind now!" said Burke, and took out his pipe. + +The light still lingered in his eyes, firing her to something +deeper than curiosity. She turned her horse abruptly. + +"I am going back to see for myself." + +But in the same moment his hand came out, grasping her bridle. "I +shouldn't do that," he said. "It isn't worth it. Wait till we +come again!" + +"The tree may be gone by then," she objected. + +"In that case you won't have missed much," he rejoined. "Don't go +now!" + +He had his way though she yielded against her will. They turned +their animals towards Brennerstadt, and rode back together over, +the sun-scorched _veldt_. + + + + +PART II + +CHAPTER I + +COMRADES + +Some degree of normality seemed to come back into Sylvia's life +with her return to Blue Hill Farm. She found plenty to do there, +and she rapidly became accustomed to her surroundings. + +It would have been a monotonous and even dreary existence but for +the fact that she rode with Burke almost every evening, and +sometimes in the early morning also, and thus saw a good deal of +the working of the farm. Her keen interest in horses made a strong +bond of sympathy between them. She loved them all. The mares and +their foals were a perpetual joy to her, and she begged hard to be +allowed to try her powers at breaking in some of the young animals. +Burke, however, would not hear of this. He was very kind to her, +unfailingly considerate in his treatment of her, but by some means +he made her aware that his orders were to be respected. The Kaffir +servants were swift to do his bidding, though she did not find them +so eager to fulfil their duties when he was not at hand. + +She laughingly commented upon this one day to Burke, and he amazed +her by pointing to the riding-whip she chanced to be holding at the +time. + +"You'll find that's the only medicine for that kind of thing," he +said. "Give 'em a taste of that and they'll respect you!" + +She decided he must be joking, but only a few days later he quite +undeceived her on that point by dragging Joe, the house boy, into +the yard and chastising him with a _sjambok_ for some neglected +duty. + +Joe howled lustily, and Sylvia yearned to fly to the rescue, but +there was something so judicial about Burke's administration of +punishment that she did not venture to intervene. + +When he came in a little later, she was sitting in their +living-room nervously stitching at the sleeve of a shirt that he +had managed to tear on some barbed wire. He had his pipe in his +hand, and there was an air of grim satisfaction about him that +seemed to denote a consciousness of something well done. + +Sylvia set her mouth hard and stitched rapidly, trying to forget +Joe's piercing yells of a few minutes before. Burke went to the +window and stood there, pensively filling his pipe. + +Suddenly, as if something in her silence struck him, he turned and +looked at her. She felt his eyes upon her though she did not raise +her own. + +After a moment or two he came to her. "What are you doing there?" +he said. + +It was the first piece of work she had done for him. She glanced +up. "Mending your shirt," she told him briefly. + +He laid his hand abruptly upon it. "What are you doing that for? +I don't want you to mend my things." + +"Oh, don't be silly, Burke!" she said. "You can't go in tatters. +Please don't hinder me! I want to get it done." + +She spoke with a touch of sharpness, not feeling very kindly +disposed towards him at the moment. She was still somewhat +agitated, and she wished with all her heart that he would go and +leave her alone. + +She almost said as much in the next, breath as he did not remove +his hand. "Why don't you go and shoot something? There's plenty +of time before supper." + +"What's the matter?" said Burke. + +"Nothing," she returned, trying to remove her work from his grasp. + +"Nothing!" he echoed. "Then why am I told not to be silly, not to +hinder you, and to go and shoot something?" + +Sylvia sat up in her chair, and faced him. "If you must have it--I +think you've been--rather brutal," she said, lifting her clear eyes +to his. "No doubt you had plenty of excuse, but that doesn't +really justify you. At least--I don't think so." + +He met her look in his usual direct fashion. Those eagle eyes of +his sent a little tremor through her. There was a caged fierceness +about them that strangely stirred her. + +He spoke after the briefest pause with absolute gentleness. "All +right, little pal! It's decent of you to put it like that. You're +quite wrong, but that's a detail. You'll change your views when +you've been in the country a little longer. Now forget it, and +come for a ride!" + +It was disarmingly kind, and Sylvia softened in spite of herself. +She put her hand on his arm. "Burke, you won't do it again?" she +said. + +He smiled a little. "It won't be necessary for some time to come. +If you did the same to Fair Rosamond now and then you would +marvellously improve her. Idle little cuss!" + +"I never shall," said Sylvia with emphasis. + +He heaved a sigh. "Then I shall have to kick her out I suppose. I +can see she is wearing your temper to a fine edge." + +She bit her lip for a second, and then laughed. "Oh, go away, do? +You're very horrid. Rose may be trying sometimes, but I can put up +with her." + +"You can't manage her," said Burke. + +"Anyway, you are not to interfere," she returned with spirit. +"That's my department." + +He abandoned the discussion. "Well, I leave it to you, partner. +You're not to sit here mending shirts anyhow. I draw the line at +that." + +Sylvia's delicate chin became suddenly firm. "I never leave a +thing unfinished," she said. "You will have to ride alone this +evening." + +"I refuse," said Burke. + +She opened her eyes wide. "Really"--she began. + +"Yes, really," he said. "Put the thing away! It's a sheer fad to +mend it at all. I don't care what I wear, and I'm sure you don't." + +"But I do," she protested. "You must be respectable." + +"But I am respectable--whatever I wear," argued Burke. "It's my +main characteristic." + +His brown hand began to draw the garment in dispute away from her, +but Sylvia held it tight. + +Burke, don't--please--be tiresome! Every woman mends her +husband's clothes if there is no one else to do it. I want to do +it. There!" + +"You don't like doing it!" he challenged. + +"It's my duty," she maintained. + +He gave her an odd look. "And do you always do--your duty?" + +"I try to," she said. + +"Always?" he insisted. + +Something in his eyes gave her pause. She wanted to turn her own +aside, but could not. "To--to the best of my ability," she +stammered. + +He looked ironical for an instant, and then abruptly he laughed and +released her work. "Bless your funny little heart!" he said. "Peg +away, if you want to! It looks rather as if you're starting at the +wrong end, but, being a woman, no doubt you will get there +eventually." + +That pierced her. It was Guy--Guy in the flesh--tenderly taunting +her with some feminine weakness. So swift and so sharp was the +pain that she could not hide it. She bent her face over her work +with a quick intake of the breath. + +"Why--Sylvia!" he said, bending over her. + +She drew away from him. "Don't--please! I--I am foolish. +Don't--take any notice!" + +He stood up again, but his hand found her shoulder and rubbed it +comfortingly. "What is it, partner? Tell a fellow!" he urged, his +tone an odd mixture of familiarity and constraint. + +She fought with herself, and at last told him. "You--you--you were +so like--Guy--just then." + +"Oh, damn Guy!" he said lightly. "I am much more like myself at +all times. Cheer up, partner! Don't cry for the moon!" + +She commanded herself and looked up at him with a quivering smile. +"It is rather idiotic, isn't it? And ungrateful too. You are very +good not to lose patience." + +"Oh, I am very patient," said Burke with a certain grimness. "But +look here! Must you mend that shirt? I've got another somewhere." + +Her smile turned to a laugh. She sprang up with a lithe, impulsive +movement, "Come along then! Let's go! I don't know why you want +to be bothered with me, I'm sure. But I'll come." + +She took him by the arm and went with him from the room. + +They rode out across Burke's land. The day had been one of burning +heat. Sylvia turned instinctively towards the _kopje_ that always +attracted her. It had an air of aloofness that drew her fancy. "I +must climb that very early some morning," she said, "in time for +the sunrise." + +"It will mean literal climbing," said Burke. "It's too steep for a +horse." + +"Oh, I don't mind that," she said. "I have a steady head. But I +want to get round it tonight. I've never been round it yet. What +is there on the other side?" + +"_Veldt_," he said. + +She made a face. And then _veldt_--and then _veldt_. Plenty of +nice, sandy karoo where all the sand-storms come from! But there +are always the hills beyond. I am going to explore them some day." + +"May I come too?" he said. + +She smiled at him. "Of course, partner. We will have a castle +right at the top of the world, shall we? There will be mountain +gorges and great torrents, and ferns and rhododendrons everywhere. +And a little further still, a great lake like an inland sea with +sandy shores and very calm water with the blue sky or the stars +always in it." + +"And what will the castle be like?" he said. + +Sylvia's eyes were on the far hills as they rode. "The castle?" +she said. "Oh, the castle will be of grey granite--the sparkling +sort, very cool inside, with fountains playing everywhere; spacious +rooms of course, and very lofty--always lots of air and no dust." + +"Shall I be allowed to smoke a pipe in them?" asked Burke. + +"You will do exactly what you like all day long," she told him +generously. + +"So long as I don't get in your way," he suggested. + +She laughed a little. "Oh, we shall be too happy for that. +Besides, you can have a farm or two to look after. There won't be +any dry watercourses there like that," pointing with her whip. +"That is what you call a '_spruit_,' isn't it?" + +"You are getting quite learned," he said. "Yes, that is a _spruit_ +and that is a _kopje_." + +"And that?" She pointed farther on suddenly. "What is that just +above the watercourse? Is it a Kaffir hut?" + +"No," said Burke. + +He spoke somewhat shortly. The object she indicated was +undoubtedly a hut; to Sylvia's unaccustomed eyes it might have been +a cattle-shed. It was close to the dry watercourse, a little +lonely hovel standing among stones and a straggling growth of +coarse grass. + +Something impelled Sylvia to check her horse. She glanced at her +companion as if half-afraid. "What is it?" she said. "It--looks +like a hermit's cell. Who lives there?" + +"No one at the present moment," said Burke. + +His eyes were fixed straight ahead. He spoke curtly, as if against +his will. + +"But who generally--" began Sylvia, and then she stopped and turned +suddenly white to the lips. + +"I--see," she said, in an odd, breathless whisper. + +Burke spoke without looking at her. "It's just a cabin. He built +it himself the second year he was out here. He had been living at +the farm, but he wanted to get away from me, wanted to go his own +way without interference. Perhaps I went too far in that line. +After all, it was no business of mine. But I can't stand tamely by +and see a white man deliberately degrading himself to the Kaffir +level. It was as well he went. I should have skinned him sooner +or later if he hadn't. He realized that. So did I. So we agreed +to part." + +So briefly and baldly Burke stated the case, and every sentence he +uttered was a separate thrust in the heart of the white-faced girl +who sat her horse beside him, quite motionless, with burning eyes +fixed upon the miserable little hovel that had enshrined the idol +she had worshipped for so long. + +She lifted her bridle at last without speaking a word and walked +her animal forward through the sparse grass and the stones. Burke +moved beside her, still gazing straight ahead, as if he were alone. + +They went down to the cabin, and Sylvia dismounted. The only +window space was filled with wire-netting instead of glass, and +over this on the inside a piece of cloth had been firmly fastened +so that no prying eyes could look in. The door was locked and +padlocked. It was evident that the owner had taken every +precaution against intrusion. + +And yet--though he lived in this wretched place at which even a +Kaffir might have looked askance--he had sent her that message +telling her to come to him. This fact more than any other that she +had yet encountered brought home to her the bitter, bitter truth of +his failure. Out of the heart of the wilderness, out of desolation +unspeakable, he had sent that message. And she had answered it--to +find him gone. + +The slow hot tears welled up and ran down her face. She was not +even aware of them. Only at last she faced the desolation, in its +entirety, she drank the cup to its dregs. It was here that he had +taken the downward road. It was here that he had buried his +manhood. When she turned away at length, she felt as if she had +been standing by his grave. + +Burke waited for her and helped her to mount again in utter +silence. Only as she lifted the bridle again he laid his hand for +a moment on her knee. It was a dumb act of sympathy which she +could not acknowledge lest she should break down utterly. But it +sent a glow of comfort to her hurt and aching heart. He had given +her a comrade's sympathy just when she needed it most. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE VISITORS + +It was after that ride to Guy's hut that Sylvia began at last to +regard him as connected only with that which was past. It was as +if a chapter in her life had closed when she turned away from that +solitary hut in the wilderness. She said to herself that the man +she had known and loved was dead, and she did not after that +evening suffer her thoughts voluntarily to turn in his direction. +Soberly she took up the burden of life. She gathered up the reins +of government, and assumed the ordering of Burke Ranger's +household. She did not again refer to Guy in his presence, though +there were times when his step, his voice, above all, his whistle, +stabbed her to poignant remembrance. + +He also avoided the subject of Guy, treating her with a careless +kindliness that set her wholly at ease with him. She learned more +and more of the working of the farm, and her interest in the young +creatures grew daily. She loved to accompany him on his rides of +inspection in the early mornings showing herself so apt a pupil +that he presently dubbed her his overseer, and even at last +entrusted her occasionally with such errands as only a confidential +overseer could execute. + +It was when returning from one of these somewhat late one blazing +morning that she first encountered their nearest British neighbours +from a farm nearly twelve miles distant. It was a considerable +shock to her to find them in possession of the _stoep_ when she +rode up, but the sight of the red-faced Englishman who strode out +to meet her reassured her in a moment. + +"How do you do, Mrs. Ranger? We've just come over to pay our +respects," he announced in a big, hearty voice. "You'll hardly +believe it, but we've only recently heard of Burke's marriage. +It's been a nine days' wonder with us, but now I've seen you I +cease to marvel at anything but Burke's amazing luck." + +There was something so engagingly naive in this compliment that +Sylvia found it impossible to be formal. She smiled and slipped to +the ground. + +"You are Mr. Merston," she said. "How kind of you to come over! I +am afraid I am alone at present, but Burke is sure to be in soon. +I hope you have had some refreshment." + +She gave her horse to a Kaffir boy, and went with her new friend up +the steps of the _stoep_. + +"My wife!" said Merston in his jolly voice. + +Sylvia went forward with an eagerness that wilted in spite of her +before she reached its object. Mrs. Merston did not rise to meet +her. She sat prim and upright and waited for her greeting, and +Sylvia knew in a moment before their hands touched each other that +here was no kindred spirit. + +"How do you do?" said Mrs. Merston formally. + +She was a little woman, possibly ten years Sylvia's senior, with a +face that had once been pink and white and now was the colour of +pale brick all over. Her eyes were pale and seemed to carry a +perpetual grievance. Her nose was straight and very thin, rather +pinched at the nostrils. Her lips were thin and took a bitter +downward curve. Her hair was quite colourless, almost like ashes; +it had evidently once been light gold. + +The hand she extended to Sylvia was so thin that she thought she +could feel the bones rubbing together. Her skin was hot and very +dry. + +"I hope you like this horrible country," she said. + +"Oh, come, Matilda!" her husband protested. + +"That's not a very cheery greeting for a newcomer!" + +She closed her thin lips without reply, and the downward curve +became very unpleasantly apparent. + +"I haven't found out all its horrors yet," said Sylvia lightly. +"It's a very thirsty place, I think, anyway just now. Have you had +anything?" + +"We've only just got here," said Merston. + +"Oh, I must see to it!" said Sylvia, and hastened within. + +"Looks a jolly sort of girl," observed Merston to his wife. +"Wonder how--and when--Burke managed to catch her. He hasn't been +home for ten years and she can't be five-and-twenty." + +"She probably did the catching," remarked his wife tersely. "But +she will soon wish she hadn't." + +Sylvia returned two minutes later bearing a tray of which Merston +hastened to relieve her. + +"We're wondering--my wife and I--how Burke had the good fortune to +get married to you," he said. "You're new to this country, aren't +you? And he hasn't been out of it as long as I have known him." + +Sylvia looked up at him in momentary confusion. Then she laughed. + +"We picked each other up at Ritzen," she said. + +"Ritzen!" he echoed in amazement, "What on earth took you there?" +Then hastily, "I say, I beg your pardon. You must forgive my +impertinence. But you look so awfully like a duchess in your own +right, I couldn't help being surprised." + +"Well, have a drink!" said Sylvia lightly. "I'm not a duchess in +my own right or anything else, except Burke's wife. We're running +this farm together on the partner system. I'm junior partner of +course. Burke tells me what to do, and I do it." + +"You'll soon lose your complexion if you go out riding in this heat +and dust," said Mrs. Merston. + +"Oh, I hope not," Sylvia laughed again. "If I do, I daresay I +shan't miss it much. It's rather fun to feel that sort of thing +doesn't matter. Ah, here is Burke coming now!" She glanced up at +the thudding of his horse's hoofs. + +Merston went out again into the blinding sunlight to greet his +host, and Sylvia turned to the thin, pinched woman beside her. + +"I expect you would like to come inside and take off your hat and +wash. It is hot, isn't it? Shall we go in and get respectable?" + +She spoke with that winning friendliness of hers that few could +resist. Mrs. Merston's lined face softened almost in spite of +itself. She got up. But she could not refrain from flinging +another acid remark as she did so. + +"I really think if Englishmen must live in South Africa, they ought +to be content with Boer wives." + +"Oh, should you like your husband to have married a Boer wife?" +said Sylvia. + +Mrs. Merston smiled grimly. "You are evidently still in the fool's +paradise stage. Make the most of it! It won't last long. The men +out here have other things to think about." + +"I should hope so," said Sylvia energetically. "And the women, +too, I should think. I should imagine that there is very little +time for philandering out here." + +Mrs. Merston uttered a bitter laugh as she followed her in. "There +is very little time for anything, Mrs. Ranger. It is drudgery from +morning till night." + +"Oh, I haven't found that yet," said Sylvia. + +She had led her visitor into the guest-room which she had occupied +since her advent. It was not quite such a bare apartment as it had +been on that first night. All her personal belongings were +scattered about, and the severely masculine atmosphere had been +completely driven forth. + +"I'm afraid it isn't very tidy in here," she said. "I generally +see to things later. I don't care to turn the Kaffir girl loose +among my things." + +Mrs. Merston looked around her. "And where does your husband +sleep?" she said. + +"Across the passage. His room is about the same size as this. +They are not very big, are they?" + +"You are very lucky to have such a home," said Mrs. Merston. "Ours +is nothing but a corrugated iron shed divided into two parts." + +"Really?" Sylvia opened her eyes. "That doesn't sound very nice +certainly. Haven't you got a verandah even--I beg its pardon, a +_stoep_?" + +"We have nothing at all that makes for comfort," declared Mrs. +Merston, with bitter emphasis. "We live like pigs in a sty!" + +"Good heavens!" said Sylvia. "I shouldn't like that." + +"No, you wouldn't. It takes a little getting used to. But you'll +go through the mill presently. All we farmers' wives do. You and +Burke Ranger won't go on in this Garden of Eden style very long." + +Sylvia laughed with a touch of uncertainty. "I suppose it's a +mistake to expect too much of life anywhere," she said. "But it's +difficult to be miserable when one is really busy, isn't it? +Anyhow one can't be bored." + +"Are you really happy here?" Mrs. Merston asked point-blank, in the +tone of one presenting a challenge. + +Sylvia paused for a moment, only a moment, and then she answered, +"Yes." + +"And you've been married how long? Six weeks?" + +"About that," said Sylvia. + +Mrs. Merston looked at her, and an almost cruel look came into her +pale eyes. "Ah! You wait a little!" she said. "You're young now. +You've got all your vitality still in your veins. Wait till this +pitiless country begins to get hold of you! Wait till you begin to +bear children, and all your strength is drained out of you, and you +still have to keep on at the same grinding drudgery till you're +ready to drop, and your husband comes in and laughs at you and +tells you to buck up, when you haven't an ounce of energy left in +you! See how you like the prison-house then! All your young +freshness gone and nothing left--nothing left!" + +She spoke with such force that Sylvia felt actually shocked. Yet +still with that instinctive tact of hers, she sought to smooth the +troubled waters. "Oh, have you children?" she said. "How many? +Do tell me about them!" + +"I have had six," said Mrs. Merston dully. "They are all dead." + +She clenched her hands at Sylvia's quick exclamation of pity, but +she gave no other sign of emotion. + +"They all die in infancy," she said. "It's partly the climate, +partly that I am overworked--worn out. He--" with infinite +bitterness--"can't see it. Men don't--or won't. You'll find that +presently. It's all in front of you. I don't envy you in the +least, Mrs. Ranger. I daresay you think there is no one in the +world like your husband. Young brides always do. But you'll find +out presently. Men are all selfish where their own pleasures are +concerned. And Burke Ranger is no exception to the rule. He has a +villainous temper, too. Everyone knows that." + +"Oh, don't tell me that!" said Sylvia gently. "He and I are +partners, you know. Let me put a little _eau-de-cologne_ in that +water! It's so refreshing." + +Mrs. Merston scarcely noticed the small service. She was too +intent upon her work of destruction. "You don't know him--yet," +she said. "But anyone you meet can tell you the same. Why, he had +a young cousin here--such a nice boy--and he sent him straight to +the bad with his harsh treatment,--_sjamboked_ him and turned him +out of the house for some slight offence. Yes, no wonder you look +scandalized; but I assure you it's true. Guy Ranger was none too +steady, I know. But that was absolutely the finishing touch. He +was never the same again." + +She paused. Sylvia was very white, but her eyes were quite +resolute, unfailingly steadfast. + +"Please don't tell me any more!" she said. "Whatever Burke did +was--was from a good motive. I know that. I know him. And--I +don't want to have any unkind feelings towards him." + +"You prefer to remain blind?" said Mrs. Merston with her bitter +smile, + +"Yes--yes," Sylvia said. + +"Then you are building your house on the sand," said Mrs. Merston, +and turned from her with a shrug. "And great will be the fall +thereof." + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE BARGAIN + +THE visitors did not leave until the sun was well down in the west. +To Sylvia it had been an inexplicably tiring day, and when they +departed at length she breathed a wholly unconscious sigh of relief. + +"Come for a ride!" said Burke. + +She shook her head. "No, thank you. I think I will have a rest." + +"All right. I'll smoke a pipe on the _stoep_," he said. + +He had been riding round his land with Merston during the greater +part of the afternoon, and it did not surprise her that he seemed +to think that he also had earned a quiet evening. But curiously +his decision provoked in her an urgent desire to ride alone. A +pressing need for solitude was upon her. She yearned to get right +away by herself. + +She went to her room, however, and lay down for a while, trying to +take the rest she needed; but when presently she heard the voice of +Hans Schafen, his Dutch foreman, talking on the verandah, she arose +with a feeling of thankfulness, donned her sun-hat, and slipped out +of the bungalow. It was hot for walking, but it was a relief to +get away from the house. She knew it was quite possible that Burke +would see her go, but she believed he would be too engrossed with +business for some time to follow her. It was quite possible he +would not wish to do so, but she had a feeling that this was not +probable. He generally sought her out in his leisure hours. + +Almost instinctively she turned her steps in the direction of the +kopje which she had so often desired to climb. It rose steep from +the _veldt_ like some lonely tower in the wilderness. +Curious-shaped rocks cropped out unexpectedly on its scarred sides +and a few prickly pear bushes stood up here and there like weird +guardians of the rugged stronghold. Sylvia had an odd feeling that +they watched her with unfriendly attention as she approached. +Though solitude girt her round, she did not feel herself to be +really alone. + +It took her some time to reach it, for the ground was rough and +sandy under her feet, and it was farther away than it looked. She +realized as she drew nearer that to climb to the round summit would +be no easy task, but that fact did not daunt her. She felt the +need for strenuous exercise just then. + +The shadows were lengthening, and the full glare of the sun no +longer smote upon her. She began to climb with some energy. But +she soon found that she had undertaken a greater task than she had +anticipated. The way was steep, and here and there the boulders +seemed to block further progress completely. She pressed on with +diminishing speed, taking a slanting upward course that presently +brought her into the sun again and in view of the little cabin +above the stony watercourse that had sheltered Guy for so long. + +The sight of it seemed to take all the strength out of her. She +sat down on a rock to rest. All day long she had been forcing the +picture that Mrs. Merston had painted for her into the background +of her thoughts. All day long it had been pressing forward in +spite of her. It seemed to be burning her brain, and now she could +not ignore it any longer. Sitting there exhausted in mind and +body, she had to face it in all its crudeness. She had to meet and +somehow to conquer the sickening sensation of revolt that had come +upon her. + +She sat there for a long time, till the sun sank low in the sky and +a wondrous purple glow spread across the _veldt_. She knew that it +was growing late, that Burke would be expecting her for the evening +meal, but she could not summon the strength she needed to end her +solitary vigil on the _kopje_. She had a feeling as of waiting for +something. Though she was too tired to pray, yet it seemed to her +that a message was on its way. She watched the glory in the west +with an aching intensity that possessed her to the exclusion of +aught beside. Somehow, even in the midst of her weariness and +depression, she felt sure that help would come. + +The glory began to wane, and a freshness blew across the _veldt_. +Somewhere on the very top of the _kopje_ a bird uttered a +twittering note. She turned her face, listening for the answer, +and found Burke seated on another boulder not six yards away. + +So unexpected was the sight that she caught her breath in +astonishment and a sharp instinctive sense of dismay. He was not +looking at her, but gazing forth to the distant hills like an eagle +from its eyrie. His eyes had the look of seeing many things that +were wholly beyond her vision. + +She sat in silence, a curious feeling of embarrassment upon her, as +if she looked upon something which she was not meant to see and yet +could not turn from. His brown face was so intent, almost terribly +keen. The lines about the mouth were drawn with ruthless +distinctness. It was the face of a hunter, and the iron resolution +of it sent an odd quiver that was almost of foreboding through her +heart. + +And then suddenly he turned his head slightly, as if he felt her +look upon him, and like a knife-thrust his eyes came down to hers. +She felt the hot colour rush over her face as if she had been +caught in some act of trespass. Her confusion consumed her, she +could not have said wherefore. She looked swiftly away. + +Quietly he left his rock and came to her. + +She shrank at his coming. The pulse in her throat was throbbing as +if it would choke her. She wanted to spring up and flee down the +hill. But he was too near. She sat very still, her fingers +gripping each other about her knees, saying no word. + +He reached her and stood looking down at her. "I followed you," he +said, "because I knew you would never get to the top alone." + +She lifted her face, striving against her strange agitation. "I +wasn't thinking of going any further," she said, struggling to +speak indifferently. "It--is steeper than I thought." + +"It aways is," said Burke. + +He sat down beside her, close to her. She made a small, +instinctive movement away from him, but he did not seem to notice. +He took off his hat and laid it down. + +"I'm sorry Mrs. Merston had to be inflicted on you for so long," he +said. "I'm afraid she is not exactly cheery company." + +"I didn't mind," said Sylvia. + +He gave her a faintly whimsical look. "Not utterly fed up with +Africa and all her beastly ways?" he questioned. + +She shook her head. "I don't think I am so easily swayed as all +that." + +"You would rather stay here with me than go back home to England?" +he said. + +Her eyes went down to the lonely hut on the sand. "Why do you ask +me that?" she said, in a low voice. + +"Because I want to know," said Burke. + +Sylvia was silent. + +He went on after a moment. "I've a sort of notion that Mrs. +Merston is not a person to spread contentment around her under any +circumstances. If she lived in a palace at the top of the world +she wouldn't be any happier." + +Sylvia smiled faintly at the allusion. "I don't think she has very +much to make her happy," she said. It's a little hard to judge her +under present conditions." + +"She's got one of the best for a husband anyway," he maintained. + +"Do you think that's everything?" said Sylvia. + +"No, I don't," said Burke unexpectedly. "I think he spoils her, +which is bad for any woman. It turns her head in the beginning and +sours her afterwards." + +Sylvia turned at that and regarded him, a faint light of mockery in +her eyes. "What a lot you know about women!" she remarked. + +He laughed in a way she did not understand. "If I had a wife," he +said, "I'd make her happy, but not on those lines." + +"I thought you had one," said Sylvia. + +He met her eyes with a sudden mastery which made her flinch in +spite of herself. "No," he said, "I've only a make-believe at +present. Not very satisfying of course; but better than nothing. +There is always the hope that she may some day turn into the real +thing to comfort me." + +His words went into silence. Sylvia's head was bent. + +After a moment he leaned a little towards her, and spoke almost in +a whisper. "I feel as if I have caught a very rare, shy bird," he +said. "I'm trying to teach it to trust me, but it takes a mighty +lot of time and patience. Do you think I shall ever succeed, +Sylvia? Do you think it will ever come and nestle against my +heart?" + +Again his words went into silence. The girl's eyes were fixed upon +the stretch of sandy _veldt_ below her and that which it held. + +Silently the man watched her, his keen eyes very steady, very +determined. + +She lifted her own at last, and met them with brave directness. +"You know, partner," she said, "it isn't very fair of you to ask me +such a thing as that. You can't have--everything." + +"All right," said Burke, and felt in his pocket for his pipe. +"Consider it unsaid!" + +His abrupt acceptance of her remonstrance was curiously +disconcerting. The mastery of his look had led her to expect +something different. She watched him dumbly as he filled his pipe +with quiet precision. + +Finally, as he looked at her again, she spoke. "I don't want to +seem over-critical--ungrateful, but--" her breath came +quickly--"though you have been so awfully good to me, I can't help +feeling--that you might have done more for Guy, if--if you had been +kinder when he went wrong. And--" her eyes filled with sudden +tears--"that thought spoils--just everything." + +"I see," said Burke, and though his lips were grim his voice was +wholly free from harshness. "Mrs. Merston told you all about it, +did she?" + +Sylvia's colour rose again. She turned slightly from him. "She +didn't say much," she said. + +There was a pause. Then unexpectedly Burke's hand closed over her +two clasped ones. "So I've got to be punished, have I?" he said. + +She shook her head, shrinking a little though she suffered his +touch. "No. Only--I can't forget it,--that's all." + +"Or forgive?" said Burke. + +She swallowed her tears with an effort. "No, not that. I'm not +vindictive. But--oh, Burke--" she turned to him impulsively,--"I +wish--I wish--we could find Guy!" + +He stiffened almost as if at a blow. "Why?" he demanded sternly. + +For a moment his look awed her, but only for a moment; the longing +in her heart was so great as to overwhelm all misgiving. She +grasped his arm tightly between her hands. + +"If we could only find him--and save him--save him somehow from the +horrible pit he seems to have fallen into! We could do it between +us--I feel sure we could do it---if only--if only--we could find +him!" + +Breathlessly her words rushed out. It seemed as if she had +stumbled almost inadvertently upon the solution of the problem that +had so tormented her. She marvelled now that she had ever been +able to endure inaction with regard to Guy. She was amazed at +herself for having been so easily content. It was almost as if in +that moment she heard Guy's voice very far away, calling to her for +help. + +And then, swift as a lightning-flash, striking dismay to her soul, +came the consciousness of Burke gazing straight at her with that in +his eyes which she could not--dare not--meet. + +She gripped his arm a little tighter. She was quivering from head +to foot. "We could do it between us," she breathed again. +"Wouldn't it be worth it? Oh, wouldn't it be worth it?" + +But Burke spoke no word. He sat rigid, looking at her. + +A feeling of coldness ran through her--such a feeling as she had +experienced on her wedding-day under the skeleton-tree, the chill +that comes from the heart of a storm. Slowly she relaxed her hold +upon him. Her tears were gone, but she felt choked, unlike +herself, curiously impotent. + +"Shall we go back?" she said. + +She made as if she would rise, but he stayed her with a gesture, +and her weakness held her passive. + +"So you have forgiven him!" he said. + +His tone was curt. He almost flung the words. + +She braced herself, instinctively aware of coming strain. But she +answered him gently. "You can't be angry with a person when you +are desperately sorry for him." + +"I see. And you hold me in a great measure responsible for his +fall? I am to make good, am I?" + +He did not raise his voice, but there was something in it that made +her quail. She looked up at him in swift distress. + +"No, no! Of course not--of course not! Partner, please don't glare +at me like that! What have I done?" + +He dropped his eyes abruptly from her startled face, and there +followed a silence so intense that she thought he did not even +breathe. + +Then, in a very low voice: "You've raised Cain," he said. + +She shivered. There was something terrible in the atmosphere. +Dumbly she waited, feeling that protest would but make matters +worse. + +He turned himself from her at length, and sat with his chin on his +hands, staring out to the fading sunset. + +When he spoke finally, the hard note had gone out of his voice. +"Do you think it's going to make life any easier to bring that +young scoundrel back?" + +"I wasn't thinking of that," she said, "It was only--" she +hesitated. + +"Only?" said Burke, without turning. + +With difficulty she answered him. "Only that probably you and I +are the only people in the world who could do anything to help him. +And so--somehow it seems our job." + +Burke digested this in silence. Then: "And what are you going to +do with him when you've got him?" he enquired. + +Again she hesitated, but only momentarily. "I shall want you to +help me, partner," she said appealingly. + +He made a slight movement that passed unexplained. "You may find +me--rather in the way--before you've done," he said. + +"Then you won't help me?" she said, swift disappointment in her +voice. + +He turned round to her. His face was grim, but it held no anger. +"You've asked a pretty hard thing of me," he said. "But--yes, I'll +help you." + +"You will?" She held out her hand to him. "Oh, partner, thank +you--awfully!" + +He gripped her hand hard. "On one condition," he said. + +"Oh, what?" She started a little and her face whitened. + +He squeezed her fingers with merciless force. "Just that you will +play a straight game with me," he said briefly. + +The colour came back to her face with a rush. "That!" she said. +"But of course--of course! I always play a straight game." + +"Then it's a bargain?" he said. + +Her clear eyes met his. "Yes, a bargain. But how shall we ever +find him?" + +He was silent for a moment, and she felt as if those steel-grey +eyes of his were probing for her soul. "That," he said slowly, +"will not be a very difficult business." + +"You know where he is?" she questioned eagerly. + +"Yes. Merston told me to-day." + +"Oh, Burke!" The eager kindling of her look made her radiant. +"Where is he? What is he doing?" + +He still looked at her keenly, but all emotion had gone from his +face. "He is tending a bar in a miners' saloon at Brennerstadt." + +"Ah!"' She stood up quickly to hide the sudden pain his words had +given. "But we can soon get him out. You--you will get him out, +partner?" + +He got to his feet also. The sun had passed, and only a violet +glow remained. He seemed to be watching it as he answered her. + +"I will do my best." + +"You are good," she said very earnestly. "I wonder if you have the +least idea how grateful I feel." + +"I can guess," he said in a tone of constraint. + +She was standing slightly above him. She placed her hand shyly on +his shoulder. "And you won't hate it so very badly?" she urged +softly. "It is in a good cause, isn't it?" + +"I hope so," he said. + +He seemed unaware of her hand upon him. She pressed a little. +"Burke!" + +"Yes?" He still stood without looking at her. + +She spoke nervously. "I--I shan't forget--ever--that I am married. +You--you needn't be afraid of--of anything like that." + +He turned with an odd gesture. "I thought you were going to forget +it--that you had forgotten it--for good." + +His voice had a strained, repressed sound. He spoke almost as if +he were in pain. + +She tried to smile though her heart was beating fast and hard. +"Well, I haven't. And--I never shall now. So that's all right, +isn't it? Say it's all right!" + +There was more of pleading in her voice than she knew. A great +tremor went through Burke. He clenched his hands to subdue it. + +"Yes; all right, little pal, all right," he said. + +His voice sounded strangled; it pierced her oddly. With a sudden +impetuous gesture she slid her arm about his neck, and for one +lightning moment her lips touched his cheek. The next instant she +had sprung free and was leaping downwards from rock to rock like a +startled gazelle. + +At the foot of the _kopje_ only did she stop and wait. He was +close behind her, moving with lithe, elastic strides where she had +bounded. + +She turned round to him boyishly. "We'll climb to the top one of +these days, partner; but I'm not in training yet. Besides,--we're +late for supper." + +"I can wait," said Burke. + +She linked her little finger in his, swinging it carelessly. There +was absolute confidence in her action; only her eyes avoided his. + +"You're jolly decent to me," she said. "I often wonder why." + +"You'll know one day," said Burke very quietly. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE CAPTURE + +A dust-storm had been blowing practically all day, and the mining +crowds of Brennerstadt were thirsty to a man. They congregated at +every bar with the red sand thick upon them, and cursed the country +and the climate with much heartiness and variety. + +Burke Ranger was one of the thirstiest when he reached the town +after his ride through the desert--a ride upon which he had flatly +refused to allow Sylvia to accompany him. He went straight to the +hotel where he had stayed for his marriage, and secured a room. +Then he went down to the dining-room, where he was instantly +greeted by an old friend, Kelly, the Irish manager of a diamond +mine in the neighbourhood. + +Kelly was the friend of everyone. He knew everyone's affairs and +gossiped openly with a childlike frankness that few could resent. +Everyone declared he could never keep a secret, yet nearly everyone +confided in him. His goodness of heart was known to all, and he +was regarded as a general arbitrator among the sometimes restless +population of Brennerstadt. + +His delight at seeing Burke was obvious; he hailed him with +acclamations. "I've been meaning to ride over your way for ages," +he declared, his rubicund face shining with geniality as he wrung +his friend's hand hard. "I was up-country when you came along last +with your bride. Dark horse that you are, Burke! I should as soon +have thought of getting married myself, as of seeing you in double +harness." + +Burke laughed his careless laugh. "You'll come to it yet. No fun +in growing old alone in this country." + +"And what's the lady like?" pursued Kelly, keen for news as an +Irish terrier after a rat. "As fair as Eve and twice as charming?" + +"Something that style," agreed Burke. "What are you drinking, old +chap? Any ice to be had?" + +He conferred with the waiter, but Kelly's curiosity was far from +being satisfied. He pounced back upon the subject the moment +Burke's attention was free. + +"And is she new to this part of the world then? She came out to be +married, I take it? And what does she think of it at all?" + +"You'll have to come over and see for yourself," said Burke. + +"So I will, old feller. I'll come on the first opportunity. I'd +love to see the woman who can capture you. Done any shooting +lately, or is wedded bliss still too sweet to leave?" + +"I've had a few other things as well to think about," said Burke +drily, + +"And this is your first absence? What will the missis do without +you?" + +"She'll manage all right. She's very capable. She is helping me +with the farm. The life seems to suit her all right, only I shall +have to see she doesn't work too hard." + +"That you will, my son. This climate's hard on women. Look at +poor Bill Merston's wife! When she came out, she was as pretty and +as sweet as a little wild rose. And now--well, it gives you the +heartache to look at her." + +"Does it?" said Burke grimly. "She doesn't affect me that way. If +I were in Merston's place,--well, she wouldn't look like that for +long." + +"Wouldn't she though?" Kelly looked at him with interest. "You +always were a goer, old man. And what would your treatment consist +of?" + +"Discipline," said Burke briefly. "No woman is happy if she +despises her husband. If I were in Merston's place, I would see to +it that she did not despise me. That's the secret of her trouble. +It's poison to a woman to look down on her husband." + +"Egad!" laughed Kelly. "But you've studied the subject? Well, +here's to the fair lady of your choice! May she fulfil all +expectations and be a comfort to you all the days of your life!" + +"Thanks!" said Burke. "Now let's hear a bit about yourself! How's +the diamond industry?" + +"Oh, there's nothing the matter with it just now. We've turned +over some fine stones in the last few days. Plenty of rubbish, +too, of course. You don't want a first-class speculation, I +presume? If you've got a monkey to spare, I can put you on to +something rather great." + +"Thanks, I haven't," said Burke. "I never have monkeys to spare. +But what's the gamble?" + +"Oh, it's just a lottery of Wilbraham's. He has a notion for +raffling his biggest diamond. The draw won't take place for a few +weeks yet; and then only monkeys need apply. It's a valuable +stone. I can testify to that. It would be worth a good deal more +if it weren't for a flaw that will have to be taken out in the +cutting and will reduce it a lot. But even so, it's worth some +thousands, worth risking a monkey for, Burke. Think what a +splendid present it would be for your wife!" + +Burke laughed and shook his head. "She isn't that sort if I know +her." + +"Bet you you don't know her then," said Kelly, with a grin. "It's +a good sporting chance anyway. I don't fancy there will be many +candidates, for the stone has an evil name." + +Burke looked slightly scornful. "Well, I'm not putting any monkeys +into Wilbraham's pocket, so that won't trouble me. Have you seen +anything of Guy Ranger lately?" + +The question was casually uttered, but it sent a sharp gleam of +interest into Kelly's eyes. "Oh, it's him you've come for, is it?" +he said. "Well, let me tell you this for your information! He's +had enough of Blue Hill Farm for the present." + +Burke said nothing, but his grey eyes had a more steely look than +usual as he digested the news. + +Kelly looked at him curiously. "The boy's a wreck," he said. +"Simply gone to pieces; nerves like fiddle-strings. He drinks like +hell, but it's my belief he'd die in torment if he didn't." + +Still Burke said nothing, and Kelly's curiosity grew. + +"You know what he's doing; don't you?" he said. "He's doing a +Kaffir's job for Kaffir's pay. It's about the vilest hole this +side of perdition, my son. And I'm thinking you won't find it +specially easy to dig him out." + +Burke's eyes came suddenly straight to the face of the Irishman. +He regarded him for a moment or two with a faintly humorous +expression; then: "That's just where you can lend me a hand, +Donovan," he said. "I'm going to ask you to do that part." + +"The deuce you are!" said Kelly. "You're not going to ask much +then, my son. Moreover, it's well on the likely side that he'll +refuse to budge. Better leave him alone till he's tired of it." + +"He's dead sick of it already," said Burke with conviction. "You +go to him and tell him you've a decent berth waiting for him. +He'll come along fast enough then." + +"I doubt it," said Kelly. "I doubt it very much. He's in just the +bitter mood to prefer to wallow. He's right under, Burke, and he +isn't making any fight. He'll go on now till he's dead." + +"He won't!" said Burke shortly. "Where exactly is he? Tell me +that!" + +"He's barkeeping for that brute Hoffstein, and taking out all his +wages in drink. I saw him three days ago. I assure you he's past +help. I believe he'd shoot himself if you took any trouble over +him. He's in a pretty desperate mood." + +"Not he!" said Burke. "I'm going to have him out anyway." + +Again Kelly looked at him speculatively. "Well, what's the +notion?" he asked after a moment, frankly curious. "You've never +worried after him before." + +Burke's eyes were grim. "You may be sure of one thing, Donovan," +he said, "I'm not out for pleasure this journey." + +"I've noted that," observed Kelly. + +"I don't want you to help me if you have anything better to do," +pursued Burke. "I shall get what I've come for in any case." + +"Oh, don't you worry yourself! I'm on," responded Kelly, with his +winning, Irish smile. "When do you want to catch your hare? +Tonight?" + +"Yes; to-night," said Burke soberly. "I'll come down with you to +Hoffstein's, and if you can get him out, I'll do the rest." + +"Hurrah!" crowed Kelly softly, lifting his glass. "Here's luck to +the venture!" + +But though Burke drank with him, his face did not relax. + +A little later they left the hotel together. A strong wind was +still blowing, sprinkling the dust of the desert everywhere. They +pushed their way against it, striding with heads down through the +swirling darkness of the night. + +Hoffstein's bar was in a low quarter of the town and close to the +mine-workings. A place of hideous desolation at all times, the +whirling sandstorm made of it almost an inferno. They scarcely +spoke as they went along, grimly enduring the sand-fiend that stung +and blinded but could not bar their progress. + +As they came within sight of Hoffstein's tavern, they encountered +groups of men coming away, but no one was disposed to loiter on +that night of turmoil; no one accosted them as they approached. +The place was built of corrugated iron, and they heard the sand +whipping against it as they drew near. Kelly paused within a few +yards of the entrance. The door was open and the lights of the bar +flared forth into the darkness. + +"You stop here!" bawled Kelly. "I'll go in and investigate." + +There was an iron fence close to them, affording some degree of +shelter from the blast. Burke stood back against it, dumbly +patient. The other man went on, and in a few seconds his short +square figure passed through the lighted doorway. + +There followed an interval of waiting that seemed interminable--an +interval during which Burke moved not at all, but stood like a +statue against the wall, his hat well down over his eyes, his hands +clenched at his sides. The voices of men drifted to and fro +through the howling night, but none came very near him. + +It must have been nearly half-an-hour later that there arose a +sudden fierce uproar in the bar, and the silent watcher +straightened himself up sharply. The turmoil grew to a babel of +voices, and in a few moments two figures, struggling furiously, +appeared at the open door. They blundered out, locked together +like fighting beasts, and behind them the door crashed to, leaving +them in darkness. + +Burke moved forward. "Kelly, is that you?" + +Kelly's voice, uplifted in lurid anathema, answered him, and in a +couple of seconds Kelly himself lurched into him, nearly hurling +him backwards. "And is it yourself?" cried the Irishman. "Then +help me to hold the damned young scoundrel, for he's fighting like +the devils in hell! Here he is! Get hold of him!" + +Burke took a silent hard grip upon the figure suddenly thrust at +him, and almost immediately the fighting ceased. + +"Let me go!" a hoarse voice said. + +"Hold him tight!" said Kelly. "I'm going to take a rest. Guy, you +young devil, what do you want to murder me for? I've never done +you a harm in my life." + +The man in Burke's grasp said nothing whatever. He was breathing +heavily, but his resistance was over. He stood absolutely passive +in the other man's hold. + +Kelly gave himself an indignant shake and continued his tirade. "I +call all the saints in heaven to witness that as sure as my name is +Donovan Kelly so sure is it that I'll be damned to the last most +nether millstone before ever I'll undertake to dig a man out of +Hoffstein's marble halls again. You'd better watch him, Burke. +His skin is about as full as it'll hold." + +"We'll get back," said Burke briefly. + +He was holding his captive locked in a scientific grip, but there +was no violence about him. Only, as he turned, the other turned +also, as if compelled. Kelly followed, cursing himself back to +amiability. + +Back through the raging wind they went, as though pursued by +furies. They reached and entered the hotel just as the Kaffir +porter was closing for the night. He stared with bulging eyes at +Burke and his companion, but Burke walked straight through, looking +neither to right nor left. + +Only at the foot of the stairs, he paused an instant, glancing back. + +"I'll see you in the morning, Donovan," he said. "Thanks for all +you've done." + +To which Kelly replied, fingering a bump on his forehead with a +rueful grin, "All's well that ends well, my son, and sure it's a +pleasure to serve you. I flatter myself, moreover, that you +wouldn't have done the trick on your own. Hoffstein will stand +more from me than from any other living man." + +The hint of a smile touched Burke's set lips. "Show me the man +that wouldn't!" he said; and turning, marched his unresisting +prisoner up the stairs. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE GOOD CAUSE + +"Why can't you leave me alone? What do you want with me?" + +Half-sullenly, half-aggressively, Guy Ranger flung the questions, +standing with lowering brow before his captor. His head was down +and his eyes raised with a peculiar, brutish expression. He had +the appearance of a wild animal momentarily cowed, but preparing +for furious battle. The smouldering of his look was terrible. + +Burke Ranger met it with steely self-restraint. "I'll tell you +presently," he said. + +"You'll tell me now!" Fiercely the younger man made rejoinder. +His power of resistance was growing, swiftly swallowing all sense +of expediency. "If I choose to wallow in the mire, what the devil +is it to you? You didn't send that accursed fool Kelly round for +your own pleasure, I'll take my oath. What is it you want me for? +Tell me straight!" + +His voice rose on the words. His hands were clenched; yet still he +wore that half-frightened look as of an animal that will spring +when goaded, not before. His hair hung black and unkempt about his +burning eyes. His face was drawn and deadly pale. + +Burke stood like a rock, confronting him. He blocked the way to +the door. "I'll tell you all you want to know in the morning," he +said. "You have a wash now and turn in!" + +The wild eyes took a fleeting glance round the room, returning +instantly, as if fascinated, to Burke's face. + +"Why the devil should I? I've got a--sty of my own to go to." + +"Yes, I know," said Burke. Yet, he stood his ground, grimly +emotionless. + +"Then let me go to it!" Guy Ranger straightened himself, breathing +heavily. "Get out!" he said. "Or--by heaven--I'll throw you!" + +"You can't," said Burke. "So don't be a fool! You know--none +better--that that sort of thing doesn't answer with me." + +"But what do you want?" The reiterated question had a desperate +ring as if, despite its urgency, the speaker dreaded the reply. +"You've never bothered to dig me out before. What's the notion? +I'm nothing to you. You loathe the sight of me." + +Burke made a slight gesture as of repudiation, but he expressed no +denial in words. "As to that," he said, "you draw your own +conclusions. I can't discuss anything with you now. The point is, +you are out of that hell for the present, and I'm going to keep you +out." + +"You!" There was a note of bitter humour in the word. Guy Ranger +threw back his head as he uttered it, and by the action the +likeness between them was instantly proclaimed. "That's good!" he +scoffed. "You--the man who first showed me the gates of hell--to +take upon yourself to pose as deliverer! And for whose benefit, if +one might ask? Your own--or mine?" + +His ashen face with the light upon it was still boyish despite the +stamp of torment that it bore. Through all the furnace of his +degradation his youth yet clung to him like an impalpable veil that +no suffering could rend or destroy. + +Burke suddenly abandoned his attitude of gaoler and took him by the +shoulder. "Don't be a fool!" he said again, but he said it gently. +"I mean what I say. It's a way I've got. This isn't the time for +explanations, but I'm out to help you. Even you will admit that +you're pretty badly in need of help." + +"Oh, damn that!" Recklessly Guy made answer, chafing visibly under +the restraining hold; yet not actually flinging it off. "I know +what I'm doing all right. I shall pull up again presently--before +the final plunge. I'm not going to attempt it before I'm ready. +I've found it doesn't answer." + +"You've got to this time," Burke said. + +His eyes, grey and indomitable, looked straight into Guy's, and +they held him in spite of himself. Guy quivered and stood still. + +"You've got to," he reiterated. "Don't tell me you're enjoying +yourself barkeeping at Hoffstein's! I've known you too long to +swallow it. It just won't go down." + +"It's preferable to doing the white nigger on your blasted farm!" +flashed back Guy. "Starvation's better than that!" + +"Thank you," said Burke. He did not flinch at the straight hit, +but his mouth hardened. "I see your point of view of course. +Perhaps it's beside the mark to remind you that you might have been +a partner if you'd only played a decent game. I wanted a partner +badly enough." + +An odd spasm crossed Guy's face. "Yes. You didn't let me into +that secret, did you, till I'd been weighed in the balances and +found wanting? You were too damned cautious to commit yourself. +And you've congratulated yourself on your marvellous discretion +ever since, I'll lay a wager. You hide-bound, self-righteous prigs +always do. Nothing would ever make you see that it's just your +beastly discretion that does the mischief,--your infernal, +complacent virtue that breeds the vice you so deplore!" He broke +into a harsh laugh that ended in a sharp catch of the breath that +bent him suddenly double. + +Burke's hand went swiftly from his shoulder to his elbow. He led +him to a chair. "Sit down!" he said. "You've got beyond yourself. +I'm going to get you a drink, and then you'll go to bed." + +Guy sat crumpled down in the chair like an empty sack. His head +was on his clenched hands. He swayed as if in pain. + +Burke stood looking down at him for a moment or two. Then he +turned and went away, leaving the door ajar behind him. + +When he came back, Guy was on his feet again, prowling uneasily up +and down, but he had not crossed the threshold. He gave him that +furtive, hunted look again as he entered. + +"What dope is that? Not the genuine article I'll wager my soul!" + +"It is the genuine article," Burke said. "Drink it, and go to bed!" + +But Guy stood before him with his hands at his sides. The +smouldering fire in his eyes was leaping higher and higher. +"What's the game?" he said. "Is it a damned ruse to get me into +your power?" + +Burke set down the glass he carried, and turned full upon him. +There was that about him that compelled the younger man to meet his +look. They stood face to face. + +"You are in my power," he said with stern insistence. "I've borne +with you because I didn't want to use force. But--I can use force. +Don't forget that!" + +Guy made a sharp movement--the movement of the trapped creature. +Beneath Burke's unsparing regard his eyes fell. In a moment he +turned aside, and muttering below his breath he took up the glass +on the table. For a second or two he stood staring at it, then +lifted it as if to drink, but in an instant changed his purpose and +with a snarling laugh swung back and flung glass and contents +straight at Burke's grim face. + +What followed was of so swift and so deadly a nature as to possess +something of the quality of a whirlwind. Almost before the glass +lay in shivered fragments on the floor, Guy was on his knees and +being forced backwards till his head and shoulders touched the +boards. And above him, terrible with awful intention, was Burke's +face, gashed open across the chin and dripping blood upon his own. + +The fight went out of Guy then like an extinguished flame. With +gasping incoherence he begged for mercy. + +"You're hurting me infernally! Man, let me up! I've been--I've +been--a damn' fool! Didn't know--didn't realize! Burke--for +heaven's sake--don't torture me!" + +"Be still!" Burke said. "Or I'll murder you!" + +His voice was low and furious, his hold without mercy. Yet, after +a few seconds he mastered his own violence, realizing that all +resistance in the man under him was broken. In a silence that was +more appalling than speech he got to his feet, releasing him. + +Guy rolled over sideways and lay with his face on his arms, gasping +painfully. After a pause, Burke turned from him and went to the +washing-stand. + +The blood continued to now from the wound while he bathed it. The +cut was deep. He managed, however, to staunch it somewhat at +length, and then very steadily he turned back. + +"Get up!" he said. + +Guy made a convulsive movement in response, but he only half-raised +himself, sinking back immediately with a hard-drawn groan. + +Burke bent over him. "Get up!" he said again. "I'll help you." + +He took him under the arms and hoisted him slowly up. Guy +blundered to his feet with shuddering effort. + +"Now--fire me out!" he said. + +But Burke only guided him to the bed. "Sit down!" he said. + +Numbly he obeyed. He seemed incapable of doing otherwise. But +when, still with that unwavering steadiness of purpose, Burke +stooped and began to unfasten the straps of his gaiters, he +suddenly cried out as if he had been struck unawares in a vital +place. + +"No--no--no! I'm damned--I'm damned if you shall! Burke--stop, do +you hear? Burke!" + +"Be quiet!" Burke said. + +But Guy flung himself forward, preventing him. They looked into +one another's eyes for a tense interval, then, as the blood began +to trickle down his chin again, Burke released himself. + +In the same moment, Guy covered his face and burst into agonized +sobbing most terrible to hear. + +Burke stood up again. Somehow all the hardness had gone out of him +though the resolution remained. He put a hand on Guy's shoulder, +and gently shook him. + +"Don't do it, boy! Don't do it! Pull yourself together for +heaven's sake! Drink--do anything--but this! You'll want to shoot +yourself afterwards." + +But Guy was utterly broken, his self-control beyond recovery. The +only response he made was to feel for and blindly grip the hand +that held him. + +So for a space they remained, while the anguish possessed him and +slowly passed. Then, with the quiescence of complete exhaustion, +he suffered Burke's ministrations in utter silence. + +Half-an hour later he lay in a dead sleep, motionless as a stone +image, while the man who dragged him from his hell rested upon two +chairs and grimly reviewed the problem which he had created for +himself. There was no denying the fact that young Guy had been a +thorn in his side almost ever since his arrival in the country. +The pity of it was that he possessed such qualities as should have +lifted him far above the crowd. He had courage, he had resource. +Upon occasion he was even brilliant. But ever the fatal handicap +existed that had pulled him down. He lacked moral strength, the +power to resist temptation. As long as he lived, this infirmity of +character would dog his steps, would ruin his every enterprise. +And Burke, whose stubborn force made him instinctively impatient of +such weakness, lay and contemplated the future with bitter +foreboding. + +There had been a time when he had thought to rectify the evil, to +save Guy from himself, to implant in him something of that moral +fibre which he so grievously lacked. But he had been forced long +since to recognize his own limitations in this respect. Guy was +fundamentally wanting in that strength which was so essentially a +part of his own character, and he had been compelled at last to +admit that no outside influence could supply the want. He had come +very reluctantly to realize that no faith could be reposed in him, +and when that conviction had taken final hold upon him, Burke had +relinquished the struggle in disgust. + +Yet, curiously, behind all his disappointment, even contempt, there +yet lurked in his soul an odd liking for the young man. Guy was +most strangely likable, however deep he sank. Unstable, +unreliable, wholly outside the pale as he was, yet there ever hung +about him a nameless, indescribable fascination which redeemed him +from utter degradation, a charm which very curiously kept him from +being classed with the swine. There was a natural gameness about +him that men found good. Even at his worst, he was never revolting. + +He seemed to Burke a mass of irresponsible inconsistency. He was +full of splendid possibilities that invariably withered ere they +approached fruition. He had come to regard him as a born failure, +and though for Sylvia's sake he had made this final effort, he had +small faith in its success. Only she was so hard to resist, that +frank-eyed, earnest young partner of his. She was so unutterably +dear in all her ways. How could he hear the tremor of her pleading +voice and refuse her? + +The memory of her came over him like a warm soft wave. He felt +again the quick pressure of her arm about his neck, the fleeting +sweetness of her kiss. How had he kept himself from catching her +to his heart in that moment, and holding her there while he drank +his fill of the cup she had so shyly proffered? How had he ever +suffered her to flit from him down the rough _kopje_ and turn at +the bottom with the old intangible shield uplifted between them? + +The blood raced in his veins. He clenched his hands in impotent +self-contempt. And yet at the back of his man's soul he knew that +by that very forbearance his every natural impulse condemned, he +had strengthened his position, he had laid the foundation-stone of +a fabric that would endure against storm and tempest. The house +that he would build would be an abiding-place--no swiftly raised +tent upon the sand. It would take time to build it, infinite care, +possibly untold sacrifice. But when built, it would be absolutely +solid, proof for all time against every wind that blew. For every +stone would be laid with care and made fast with the cement that is +indestructible. And it would be founded upon a rock. + +So, as at last he drifted into sleep, Guy lying in a deathlike +immobility by his side, there came to him the conviction that what +he had done had been well done, done in a good cause, and +acceptable to the Master Builder at Whose Behest he was vaguely +conscious that all great things are achieved. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE RETURN + +When the morning broke upon Blue Hill Farm the sand-storm had blown +itself out. With brazen splendour the sun arose to burn the +parched earth anew, but Sylvia was before it. With the help of +Fair Rosamond and, Joe, the boy, she was preparing a small wooden +hut close by for the reception of a guest. He should not go back +to that wretched cabin on the sand if she could prevent it. He +should be treated with honour. He should be made to feel that to +her--and to Burke--his welfare was a matter of importance. + +She longed to know how Burke had fared upon his quest. She +yearned, even while she dreaded, to see the face which once had +been all the world to her. That he had ceased to fill her world +was a fact that she frankly admitted to herself just as she +realized that she felt no bitterness towards this man who had so +miserably failed her. Her whole heart now was set upon drawing him +back from the evil paths down which he had strayed. When that was +done, when Guy was saved from the awful destruction that menaced +him, then there might come time for other thoughts, other +interests. Since Burke had acceded to her urgent request so +obviously against his will, her feelings had changed towards him. +A warmth of gratitude had filled her, It had been so fine of him to +yield to her like that. + +But somehow she could not suffer her thoughts to dwell upon Burke +just then. Always something held her back, restraining her, +filling her with a strange throbbing agitation that she herself +must check, lest it should overwhelm her. Instinctively, almost +with a sense of self-preservation, she turned her mind away from +him. And she was too busy--much too busy--to sit and dream. + +When the noon-day heat waxed fierce, she had to rest, though it +required her utmost strength of will to keep herself quiet, lying +listening with straining ears to the endless whirring of countless +insects in the silence of the _veldt_. + +It was with unspeakable relief that she arose from this enforced +inactivity and, as evening drew on, resumed her work. She was +determined that Guy should be comfortable when he came. She knew +that it was more than possible that he would not come that day, but +she could not leave anything unfinished. It was so important that +he should realize his welcome from the very first moment of arrival. + +All was finished at last even to her satisfaction. She stood alone +in the rough hut that she had turned into as dainty a guest-chamber +as her woman's ingenuity could devise, and breathed a sigh of +contentment, feeling that she had not worked in vain. Surely he +would feel at home here! Surely, even though through his weakness +they had had to readjust both their lives, by love and patience a +place of healing might be found. It was impossible to analyze her +feelings towards him, but she was full of hope. Again she fell to +wondering how Burke had fared. + +At sunset she went out and saddled the horse he had given her as a +wedding-present, Diamond, a powerful animal, black save for a white +mark on his head from which he derived his name. She and Diamond +were close friends, and in his company her acute restlessness began +to subside. She rode him out to the _kopje_, but she did not go +round to view the lonely cabin above the stony watercourse. She +did not want to think of past troubles, only to cherish the hope +for the future that was springing in her heart. + +She was physically tired, but Diamond seemed to understand, and +gave her no trouble. For awhile they wandered in the sunset light, +she with her face to the sky and the wonderful mauve streamers of +cloud that spread towards her from the west. Then, as the light +faded, she rode across the open _veldt_ to the rough road by which +they must come. + +It wound away into the gathering dusk where no lights gleamed, and +a strong sense of desolation came to her, as it were, out of the +desert and gripped her soul. For the first time she looked forward +with foreboding. + +None came along the lonely track. She heard no sound of hoofs. +She tried to whistle a tune to keep herself cheery, but very soon +it failed. The silent immensity of the _veldt_ enveloped her. She +had a forlorn feeling of being the only living being in all that +vastness, except for a small uneasy spirit out of the great +solitudes that wandered to and fro and sometimes fanned her with an +icy breath that made her start and shiver. + +She turned her horse's head at last. "Come, Diamond, we'll go +home." + +The word slipped from her unawares, but the moment she had uttered +it she remembered, and a warm flush mounted in her cheeks. Was it +really home to her--that abode in the wilderness to which Burke +Ranger had brought her? Had she come already to regard it as she +had once regarded that dear home of her childhood from which she +had been so cruelly ousted? + +The thought of the old home went through her with a momentary pang. +Did her father ever think of her now, she wondered? Was he happy +himself? She had written to him after her marriage to Burke, +telling him all the circumstances thereof. It had been a difficult +letter to write. She had not dwelt overmuch upon Guy's part +because she could not bring herself to do so. But she had tried to +make the position intelligible to him, and she hoped she had +succeeded. + +But no answer had come to her. Since leaving England, she had +received letters from one or two friends, but not one from her old +home. It was as if she had entered another world. Already she had +grown so accustomed to it that she felt as if she had known it for +years. And she had no desire to return. The thought of the summer +gaieties she was foregoing inspired her with no regret. Isolated +though she was, she was not unhappy. She had only just begun to +realize it, and not yet could she ask herself wherefore. + +A distinct chill began to creep round her with the approach of +night. She lifted the bridle, and Diamond broke into a trot. Back +to Blue Hill Farm they went, leaving the silence and the loneliness +behind them as they drew near. Mary Ann was scolding the girl from +the open door of the kitchen. Her shrill vituperations banished +all retrospection from Sylvia's mind. She found herself laughing +as she slipped to the ground and handed the horse over to Joe. + +Then she went within, calling to the girl to light the lamps. +There was still mending to be done in Burke's wardrobe. She +possessed herself of some socks, and went to their sitting-room. +Her former restlessness was returning, but she resolutely put it +from her, and for more than an hour she worked steadily at her +task. Then, the socks finished, she took up a book on +cattle-raising and tried to absorb herself in its pages. + +She soon realized, however, that this was quite hopeless, and, at +last, in desperation she flung on a cloak and went outside. The +night was still, the sky a wonderland of stars. She paced to and +fro with her face uplifted to the splendour for a long, long time. +And still there came no sound of hoofs along the lonely track. + +Gradually she awoke to the fact that she was getting very tired. +She began to tell herself that she had been too hopeful. They +would not come that night. + +Her knees were getting shaky, and she went indoors. A cold supper +had been spread. She sat down and partook of food, scarcely +realizing what she ate. Then, reviving, she rallied herself on her +foolishness. Of course they would not come that night. She had +expected too much, had worn herself out to no purpose. She +summoned her common sense to combat her disappointment, and +commanded herself sternly to go to bed before exhaustion overtook +her. She had behaved like a positive idiot. It was high time she +pulled herself together. + +It was certainly growing late. Mary Ann and her satellites had +already retired to their own quarters some little distance from the +bungalow. She was quite alone in the eerie silence. Obviously, +bed was the only place if she did not mean to sit and shiver with +sheer nervousness. Stoutly she collected her mental forces and +retreated to her room. She was so tired that she knew she would +sleep if she could control her imagination. + +This she steadfastly set herself to do, with the result that sleep +came to her at last, and in her weariness she sank into a deep +slumber that, undisturbed by any outside influence, would have +lasted throughout the night. She had left a lamp burning in the +sitting-room that adjoined her bedroom, and the door between ajar, +so that she was not lying in complete darkness. She had done the +same the previous night, and had felt no serious qualms. The light +scarcely reached her, but it was a comfort to see it at hand when +she opened her eyes. It gave her a sense of security, and she +slept the more easily because of it. + +So for an hour or more she lay in unbroken slumber; then, like a +cloud arising out of her sea of oblivion, there came to her again +that dream of two horsemen galloping. It was a terrible dream, all +the more terrible because she knew so well what was coming. Only +this time, instead of the ledge along the ravine, she saw them +clearly outlined against the sky, racing from opposite directions +along a knife-edge path that stood up, sharp and jagged, between +two precipices. + +With caught breath she stood apart and watched in anguished +expectation, watched as if held by some unseen force, till there +came the inevitable crash, the terrible confusion of figures locked +in deadly combat, and then the hurtling fall of a single horseman +down that frightful wall of rock. His face gleamed white for an +instant, and then was gone. Was it Guy? Was it Burke? She knew +not. . . . + +It was then that strength returned to her, and she sprang up, +crying wildly, every pulse alert and pricking her to action. She +fled across the room, instinctively seeking the light, stumbled on +the threshold, and fell headlong into the arms of a man who stood +just beyond. They closed upon her instantly, supporting her. She +lay, gasping hysterically, against his breast. + +"Easy! Easy!" he said. "Did I startle you?" + +It was Burke's voice, very deep and low. She felt the steady beat +of his heart as he held her. + +Her senses returned to her and with them an overwhelming +embarrassment that made her swiftly withdraw herself from him. He +let her go, and she retreated into the darkness behind her. + +"What is it, partner?" he said gently. "You've nothing to be +afraid of." + +There was no reproach in his voice, yet something within reproached +her instantly. She put on slippers and dressing-gown and went back +to him. + +"I've had a stupid dream," she said. "I expect I heard your horse +outside. So--you have come back alone!" + +"He has gone back to his own cabin," Burke said. + +"Burke!" She looked at him with startled, reproachful eyes. Her +hair lay in a fiery cloud about her shoulders, and fire burned in +her gaze as she faced him. + +He made a curious gesture as if he restrained some urging impulse, +not speaking for a moment. When his voice came again it sounded +cold, with an odd note of defiance. "I've done my best." + +She still looked at him searchingly. "Why wouldn't he come here?" +she said. + +He turned from her with a movement that almost seemed to indicate +impatience "He preferred not to. There isn't much accommodation +here. Besides, he can very well fend for himself. He's used to +it." + +"I have been preparing for him all day," Sylvia said. She looked +at him anxiously, struck by something unusual in his pose, and +noted for the first time a wide strip of plaster on one side of his +chin. "Is all well?" she questioned. "How have you hurt your +face?" + +He did not look at her. "Yes, all's well," he said. "I cut +myself--shaving. You go back to bed! I'm going to refresh before +I turn in." + +Sylvia turned to a cupboard in the room where she had placed some +eatables before retiring. She felt chill with foreboding. What +was it that Burke was hiding behind that curt manner? She was sure +there was something. + +"What will Guy do for refreshment?" she said, as she set dishes and +plates upon the table. + +"He'll have some tinned stuff in that shanty of his," said Burke. + +She turned from the table with abrupt resolution. "Have something +to eat, partner," she said, "and then tell me all about it!" + +She looked for the sudden gleam of his smile, but she looked in +vain. He regarded her, indeed, but it was with sombre eyes. + +"You go back to bed!" he reiterated. "There is no necessity for +you to stay up. You can see him for yourself in the morning." + +He would have seated himself at the table with the words, but she +laid a quick, appealing hand upon his arm, deterring him. "Burke!" +she said. "What is the matter? Please tell me!" + +She felt his arm grow rigid under her fingers. And then with a +suddenness that electrified her he moved, caught her by the wrists +and drew her to him, locking her close. + +"You witch!" he said. "You--enchantress! How shall I resist you?" + +She uttered a startled gasp; there was no time for more ere his +lips met hers in a kiss so burning, so compelling, that it reft +from her all power of resistance. One glimpse she had of his eyes, +and it was as if she looked into the deep, deep heart of the fire +unquenchable. + +She wanted to cry out, so terrible was the sight, but his lips +sealed her own. She lay helpless in his hold. + +Afterwards she realized that she must have been near to fainting, +for when at the end of those wild moments of passion he let her go, +her knees gave way beneath her and she could not stand. Yet +instinctively she gripped her courage with both hands. He had +startled her, appalled her even, but there was a fighting strain in +Sylvia, and she flung dismay away. She held his arm in a quivering +grasp. She smiled a quivering smile. And these were the bravest +acts she had ever forced herself to perform. + +"You've done it now, partner!" she said shakily. "I'm +nearly--squeezed--to death!" + +"Sylvia!" he said. + +Amazement, contrition, and even a curious dash of awe, were in his +voice. He put his arm about her, supporting her. + +She leaned against him, panting, her face downcast. "It's--all +right," she told him. "I told you you might sometimes, didn't I? +Only--you--were a little sudden, and I wasn't prepared. I believe +you've been having a rotten time. Sit down now, and have something +to eat!" + +But he did not move though there was no longer violence in his +hold. He spoke deeply, above her bent head. "I can't stand this +farce much longer. I'm only human after all, and there is a limit +to everything. I can't keep at arm's length for ever. Flesh and +blood won't bear it." + +She did not lift her head, but stood silent within the circle of +his arm. It was as if she waited for something. Then, after a +moment or two, she began to rub his sleeve lightly up and down, her +hand not very steady. + +"You're played out, partner," she said. "Don't let's discuss +things to-night! They are sure to look different in the morning." + +"And if they don't?" said Burke. + +She glanced up at him with again that little quivering smile. +"Well, then, we'll talk," she said, "till we come to an +understanding." + +He put his hand on her shoulder. "Sylvia, don't--play with me!" he +said. + +His tone was quiet, but it held a warning that brought her eyes to +his in a flash. She stood so for a few seconds, facing him, and +her breast heaved once or twice as if breathing had become +difficult. + +At last, "There was no need to say that to me, partner," she said, +in a choked voice. "You don't know me--even as well as--as you +might--if you--if you took the trouble." She paused a moment, and +put her hand to her throat. Her eyes were full of tears. "And +now--good night!" she said abruptly. + +Her tone was a command. He let her go, and in an instant the door +had closed between them. He stood motionless, waiting tensely for +the shooting of the bolt; but it did not come. He only heard +instead a faint sound of smothered sobbing. + +For a space he stood listening, his face drawn into deep lines, his +hands hard clenched. Then at length with a bitter gesture he +flung himself down at the table. + +He was still sitting motionless a quarter of an hour later, the +food untouched before him, when the intervening door opened +suddenly and silently, and like a swooping bird Sylvia came swiftly +behind him and laid her two hands on his shoulders. + +"Partner dear, I've been a big idiot. Will you forgive me?" she +said. + +Her voice was tremulous. It still held a sound of tears. She +tried to keep out of his sight as he turned in his chair. + +"Don't--don't stare at me!" she said, and slipped coaxing arms that +trembled round his neck, locking her hands tightly in front of him. +"You hurt me a bit--though I don't think you meant to. And now +I've hurt you--quite a lot. I didn't mean it either, partner. So +let's cry quits! I've forgiven you. Will you try to forgive me?" + +He sat quite still for a few seconds, and in the silence shyly she +laid her cheek down against the back of his head. He moved then, +and very gently clasped the trembling hands that bound him. But +still he did not speak. + +"Say it's all right!" she urged softly. "Say you're not cross +or--or anything!" + +"I'm not," said Burke very firmly. + +"And don't--don't ever think I want to play with you!" she pursued, +a catch in her voice. "That's not me, partner. I'm sorry I'm so +very unsatisfactory. But--anyhow that's not the reason." + +"I know the reason," said Burke quietly. + +"You don't," she rejoined instantly. "But never mind that now! +You don't know anything whatever about me, partner. I can't say I +even know myself very intimately just now. I feel as if--as if +I've been blindfolded, and I can't see anything at all just yet. +So will you try to be patient with me? Will you--will you--go on +being a pal to me till the bandage comes off again? I--want a +pal--rather badly, partner." + +Her pleading voice came muffled against him. She was clinging to +him very tightly. He could feel her fingers straining upon each +other. He stroked them gently. + +"All right, little girl. All right," he said. + +His tone must have reassured her, for she slipped round and knelt +beside him. "I'd like you to kiss me," she said, and lifted a pale +face and tear-bright eyes to his, + +He took her head between his hands, and she saw that he was moved. +He bent in silence, and would have kissed her brow, but she raised +her lips instead. And shyly she returned his kiss. + +"You're so--good to me," she said, in a whisper. "Thank you--so +much." + +He said no word in answer. Mutely he let her go. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE GUEST + +When Sylvia met her husband again, it was as if they had never been +parted or any cloud arisen to disturb the old frank comradeship. + +They breakfasted at daybreak before riding out over the lands, and +their greeting was of the most commonplace description. Later, as +they rode together across the barren _veldt_, Burke told her a +little of his finding of Guy at Brennerstadt. He did not dwell +upon any details, but by much that he left unsaid Sylvia gathered +that the task had not been easy. + +"He knows about--me?" she ventured presently, with hesitation. + +"Yes," Burke said. + +"Was he--surprised?" she asked. + +"No. He knew long ago." + +She asked no more. It had been difficult enough to ask so much. +And she would soon see Guy for herself. She would not admit even +to her own secret soul how greatly she was dreading that meeting +now that it was so near. + +Perhaps Burke divined something of her feeling in the matter, +however, for at the end of a prolonged silence he said, "I thought +I would fetch him over to lunch,--unless you prefer to ride round +that way first." + +"Oh, thank you," she said. "That is good of you." + +As they reached the bungalow, she turned to him with a sudden +question. "Burke, you didn't--really--cut your chin so badly +shaving. Did you?" + +She met the swift flash of his eyes without trepidation, refusing +to be intimidated by the obvious fact that the question was +unwelcome. + +"Did you?" she repeated with insistence. He uttered a brief laugh. +"All right, I didn't. And that's all there is to it." + +"Thank you, partner," she returned with spirit, and changed the +subject. But her heart had given a little throb of dismay within +her. Full well she knew the reason of his reticence. + +They parted before the _stoep_, he leading her animal away, she +going within to attend to the many duties of her household. + +She filled her thoughts with these resolutely during the morning, +but in spite of this it was the longest morning she had ever known. + +She was at length restlessly superintending the laying of lunch +when Joe hurried in with the news that a _baas_ was waiting on the +_stoep_ round the corner to see her. The news startled her. She +had heard no sounds of arrival, nor had Burke returned. For a few +moments she was conscious of a longing to escape that was almost +beyond her, control, then with a sharp effort she commanded herself +and went out. + +Turning the corner of the bungalow, she came upon him very +suddenly, standing upright against one of the pillar-supports, +awaiting her. He was alone, and a little throb of thankfulness +went through her that this was so. She knew in that moment that +she could not have borne to meet him for the first time in Burke's +presence. + +She was trembling as she went forward, but the instant their hands +met her agitation fell away from her, for she suddenly realized +that he was trembling also. + +No conventional words came to her lips. How could she ever be +conventional with Guy? And it was Guy--Guy in the flesh--who stood +before her, so little altered in appearance from the Guy she had +known five years before that the thought flashed through her mind +that he looked only as if he had come through a sharp illness. She +had expected far worse, though she realized now what Burke had +meant when he had said that whatever resemblance had once existed +between them, they were now no longer alike. He had not developed +as she had expected. In Burke, she seemed to see the promise of +Guy's youth. But Guy himself had not fulfilled that promise. He +had degenerated. He had proved himself a failure. And yet he did +not look coarsened or hardened by vice. He only looked, to her +pitiful, inexperienced eyes, as if he had been ravaged by some +sickness, as if he had suffered intensely and were doomed to suffer +as long as he lived. + +That was the first impression she received of him, and it was that +that made her clasp his hand in both her own and hold it fast. + +"Oh, Guy!" she said. "How ill you look!" + +His fingers closed hard upon hers. He did not attempt to meet her +earnest gaze. "So you got married to Burke!" he said, ignoring her +exclamation. "It was the best thing you could do. He may not be +exactly showy, but he's respectable. I wonder you want to speak to +me after the way I let you down." + +The words were cool, almost casual; yet his hand still held hers in +a quivering grasp. There was something in that grasp that seemed +to plead for understanding. He flashed her a swift look from eyes +that burned with a fitful, feverish fire out of deep hollows. How +well she remembered his eyes! But they had never before looked at +her thus. With every moment that passed she realized that the +change in him was greater than that first glance had revealed. + +"Of course I want to speak to you!" she said gently. "I forgave +you long ago--as, I hope, you have forgiven me." + +"I!" he said. "My dear girl, be serious!" + +Somehow his tone pierced her. There was an oddly husky quality in +his voice that seemed to veil emotion. The tears sprang to her +eyes before she was aware. + +"Whatever happens then, we are friends," she said. "Remember that +always, won't you? It--it will hurt me very much if you don't." + +"Bless your heart!" said Guy, and smiled a twisted smile. "You +were always generous, weren't you? Too generous sometimes. What +did you want to rake me out of my own particular little comer of +hell for? Was it a mistaken idea of kindness or merely curiosity? +I wasn't anyhow doing you any harm there." + +His words, accompanied by that painful smile, went straight to her +heart. "Ah, don't--don't!" she said. "Did you think I could +forget you so easily, or be any thing but wretched while you were +there?" + +He looked at her again, this time intently, "What can you be made +of, Sylvia?" he said. "Do you mean to say you found it easy to +forgive me?" + +She dashed the tears from her eyes. "I don't remember that I was +ever--angry with you," she said. "Somehow I realized--from the +very first--that--that--it was just--bad luck." + +"You amaze me!" he said. + +She smiled at him. "Do I? I don't quite see why. Is it so +amazing that one should want to pass on and make the best of +things? That is how I feel now. It seems so long ago, Guy,--like +another existence almost. It is too far away to count." + +"Are you talking of the old days?" he broke in, in a voice that +grated. "Or of the time a few weeks ago when you got here to find +yourself stranded?" + +She made a little gesture of protest. "It wasn't for long. I +don't want to think of it. But it might have been much worse. +Burke was--is still--so good to me." + +"Is he?" said Guy. He was looking at her curiously, and +instinctively she turned away, avoiding his eyes. + +"Come and have some lunch!" she said. "He ought to be in directly." + +"He is in," said Guy. "He went round to the stable." + +It was another instance of Burke's goodness that he had not been +present at their meeting. She turned to lead the way within with a +warm feeling at her heart. It was solely due to this consideration +of his that she had not suffered the most miserable embarrassment. +Somehow she felt that she could not possibly have endured that +first encounter in his presence. But now that it was over, now +that she had made acquaintance with this new Guy--this stranger +with Guy's face, Guy's voice, but not Guy's laugh or any of the +sparkling vitality that had been his--she felt she wanted him. She +needed his help. For surely now he knew Guy better than she did! + +It was with relief that she heard his step, entering from the back +of the house. He came in, whistling carelessly, and she glanced +instinctively at Guy. That sound had always made her think of him. +Had he forgotten how to whistle also, she wondered? + +She expected awkwardness, constraint; but Burke surprised her by +his ease of manner. Above all, she noticed that he was by no means +kind to Guy. He treated him with a curt friendliness from which +all trace of patronage was wholly absent. His attitude was rather +that of brother than host, she reflected. And its effect upon Guy +was of an oddly bracing nature. The semi-defiant air dropped from +him. Though still subdued, his manner showed no embarrassment. He +even, as time passed, became in a sardonic fashion almost jocose. + +In company with Burke, he drank lager-beer, and he betrayed not the +smallest desire to drink too much. Furtively she watched him +throughout the meal, trying to adjust her impressions, trying to +realize him as the lover to whom she had been faithful for so long, +the lover who had written those always tender, though quite +uncommunicative letters, the lover, who had cabled her his welcome, +and then had so completely and so cruelly failed her. + +Her ideas of him were a whirl of conflicting notions which utterly +bewildered her. Of one thing only did she become very swiftly and +surely convinced, and that was that in failing her he had saved her +from a catastrophe which must have eclipsed her whole life. +Whatever he was, whatever her feelings for him, she recognized that +this man was not the mate her girlish dreams had so fondly +pictured. Probably she would have realized this in any case from +the moment of their meeting, but circumstances might have compelled +her to join her life to his. And then------ + +Her look passed from him to Burke, and instinctively she breathed a +sigh of thankfulness. He had saved her from much already, and his +rock-like strength stood perpetually between her and evil. For the +first time she was consciously glad that she had entrusted herself +to him. + +At the end of luncheon she realized with surprise that there had +not been an awkward moment. They went out on to the _stoep_ to +smoke cigarettes when it was over, and drink the coffee which she +went to prepare. It was when she was coming out with this that she +first heard Guy's cough--a most terrible, rending sound that filled +her with dismay. Stepping out on to the _stoep_ with her tray, she +saw him bent over the back of a chair, convulsed with coughing, and +stood still in alarm. She had never before witnessed so painful a +struggle. It was as if he fought some demon whose clutch +threatened to strangle him. + +Burke came to her and took the tray from her hands. "He'll be +better directly," he said. "It was the cigarette." + +With almost superhuman effort, Guy succeeded in forcing back the +monster that seemed to be choking him, but for several minutes +thereafter he hung over the chair with his face hidden, fighting +for breath. + +Burke motioned to Sylvia to sit down, but she would not. She stood +by Guy's side, and at length as he grew calmer, laid a gentle hand +upon his arm. + +"Come and sit down, Guy. Would you like some water?" + +He shook his head. "No--no! Give me--that damned cigarette!" + +"Don't you be a fool!" said Burke, but he said it kindly. "Sit +down and be quiet for a bit!" + +He came up behind Guy, and took him by the shoulders. Sylvia saw +with surprise the young man yield without demur, and suffer himself +to be put into the chair where with an ashen face he lay for a +space as if afraid to move. + +Burke drew her aside. "Don't be scared!" he said, "It's nothing +new. He'll come round directly." + +Guy came round, sat slowly up, and reached a shaking hand towards +the table on which lay his scarcely lighted cigarette. + +"Oh, don't!" Sylvia said quickly. "See, I have just brought out +some coffee. Won't you have some?" + +Burke settled the matter by picking up the cigarette and tossing it +away. + +Guy gave him a queer look from eyes that seemed to bum like red +coals, but he said nothing whatever. He took the coffee Sylvia +held out to him and drank it as if parched with thirst. + +Then he turned to her. "Sorry to have made such an exhibition of +myself. It's all this infernal sand. Yes, I'll have some more, +please. It does me good. Then I'll get back to my own den and +have a sleep." + +"You can sleep here," Burke said unexpectedly. "No one will +disturb you. Sylvia never sits here in the afternoon." + +Again Sylvia saw that strange look in Guy's eyes, a swift intent +glance and then the instant falling of the lids. + +"You're very--kind," said Guy. "But I think I'll get back to my +own quarters all the same." + +Impulsively Sylvia intervened. "Oh, Guy, please,--don't go back to +that horrible little shanty on the sand! I got a room all ready +for you yesterday--if you will only use it." + +He turned to her. For a second his look was upon her also, and it +seemed to her in that moment that she and Burke had united cruelly +to bait some desperate animal. It sent such a shock through her +that she shrank in spite of herself. + +And then for the first time she heard Guy laugh, and it was a sound +more dreadful than his cough had been, a catching, painful sound +that was more like a cry--the hunger-cry of a prowling beast of the +desert. + +He got up as he uttered it, and stretched his arms above his head. +She saw that his hands were clenched. + +"Oh, don't overdo it, I say!" he begged. "Hospitality is all very +well, but it can be carried too far. Ask Burke if it can't! +Besides, two's company and three's the deuce. So I'll be +going--and many thanks!" + +He was gone with the words, snatching his hat from a chair where he +had thrown it, and departing into the glare of the desert with +never a backward glance. + +Sylvia turned swiftly to her husband, and found his eyes upon her. + +"With a gasping cry she caught his arm. Oh, can't you go after +him? Can't you bring him back?" + +He freed the arm to put it round her, with the gesture of one who +comforts a hurt child. "My dear, it's no good," he said. "Let him +go!" + +"But, Burke--" she cried. "Oh, Burke----" + +"I know," he made answer, still soothing her. "But it can't be +done--anyhow at present. You'll drive him away if you attempt it. +I know. I've done it. Leave him alone till the devil has gone out +of him! He'll come back then--and be decent--for a time." + +His meaning was unmistakable. The force of what he said drove in +upon her irresistibly. She burst into tears, hiding her face +against his shoulder in her distress. + +"But how dreadful! Oh, how dreadful! He is killing himself. I +think--the Guy--I knew--is dead already." + +"No, he isn't," Burke said, and he held her with sudden closeness +as he said it. "He isn't--and that's the hell of it. But you +can't save him. No one can." + +She lifted her face sharply. There was something intolerable in +the words. With the tears upon her cheeks she challenged them. + +"He can be saved! He must be saved! I'll do it somehow--somehow!" + +"You may try," Burke said, as he suffered her to release herself. +"You won't succeed." + +She forced a difficult smile with quivering lips. "You don't know +me. Where there's a will, there's a way. And I shall find it +somehow." + +He looked grim for an instant, then smiled an answering smile. +"Don't perish in the attempt!" he said. "That do-or-die look of +yours is rather ominous. Don't forget you're my partner! I can't +spare you, you know." + +She uttered a shaky laugh. "Of course you can't. Blue Hill Farm +would go to pieces without me, wouldn't it? I've often thought I'm +quite indispensable." + +"You are to me," said Burke briefly; and ere the quick colour had +sprung to her face, he also had gone his way. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE INTERRUPTION + +Sylvia meant to ride round to Guy's hut in search of him that +evening, but when the time came something held her back. + +Burke's words, "You'll drive him away," recurred to her again and +again, and with them came a dread of intruding that finally +prevailed against her original intention. He must not think for a +moment that she desired to spy upon him, even though that dreadful +craving in his eyes haunted her perpetually, urging her to action. +It seemed inevitable that for a time at least he must fight his +devil alone, and with all her strength she prayed that he might +overcome. + +In the end she rode out with Burke, covering a considerable +distance, and returning tired in body but refreshed in mind. + +They had supper together as usual, but when it was over he +surprised her by taking up his hat again. + +"You are going out?" she said. + +"I'm going to have a smoke with Guy," he said. "You have a game of +Patience, and then go to bed!" + +She looked at him uncertainly. "I'll come with you," she said. + +He was filling his pipe preparatory to departure. "You do as I +say!" he said. + +She tried to laugh though she saw his face was grim. "You're +getting rather despotic, partner. I shall have to nip that in the +bud. I'm not going to stay at home and play Patience all by +myself. There!" + +He raised his eyes abruptly from his task, and suddenly her heart +was beating fast and hard. "All right," he said. "We'll stay at +home together." + +His tone was brief, but it thrilled her. She was afraid to speak +for a moment or two lest he should see her strange agitation. +Then, as he still looked at her, "Oh no, partner," she said +lightly. "That wouldn't be the same thing at all. I am much too +fond of my own company to object to solitude. I only thought I +would like to come, too. I love the _veldt_ at night." + +"Do you?" he said. "I wonder what has taught you to do that." + +He went on with the filling of his pipe as he spoke, and she was +conscious of quick relief. His words did not seem to ask for an +answer, and she made none. + +"When are you going to take me to Ritzen?" she asked instead. + +"To Ritzen!" He glanced up again in surprise. "Do you want to go +to Ritzen?" + +"Or Brennerstadt," she said, "Whichever is the best shopping +centre." + +"Oh!" He began to smile. "You want to shop, do you? What do you +want to buy?" + +She looked at him severely. "Nothing for myself, I am glad to say." + +"What! Something for me?" His smile gave him that look--that +boyish look--which once she had loved so dearly upon Guy's face. +She felt as if something were pulling at her heart. She ignored it +resolutely. + +"You will have to buy it for yourself," she told him sternly. +"I've got nothing to buy it with. It's something you ought to have +got long ago--if you had any sense of decency." + +"What on earth is it?" Burke dropped his pipe into his pocket and +gave her his full attention. + +Sylvia, with a cigarette between her lips, got up to find the +matches. She lighted it very deliberately under his watching eyes, +then held out the match to him. "Light up, and I'll tell you." + +He took the slender wrist, blew out the match, and held her, facing +him. + +"Sylvia," he said. "I ought to have gone into the money question +with you before. But all I have is yours. You know that, don't +you?" + +She laughed at him through the smoke. "I know where you keep it +anyhow, partner," she said. "But I shan't take any--so you needn't +be afraid." + +"Afraid!" he said, still holding her. "But you are to take it. +Understand? It's my wish." + +She blew the smoke at him, delicately, through pursed lips. "Good +my lord, I don't want it. Couldn't spend it if I had it. So now!" + +"Then what is it I am to buy?" he said. + +Lightly she answered him. "Oh, you will only do the paying part. +I shall do the choosing--and the bargaining, if necessary." + +"Well, what is it?" Still he held her, and there was something of +insistence, something of possession, in his hold. + +Possibly she had never before seemed more desirable to him--or more +elusive. For she was beginning to realize and to wield her power. +Again she took a whiff from her cigarette, and wafted it at him +through laughing lips. + +"I want some wool--good wool--and a lot of it, to knit some +socks--for you. Your present things are disgraceful." + +His look changed a little. His eyes shone through the veil of +smoke she threw between them, "I can buy ready-made socks. I'm not +going to let you make them--or mend them." + +Sylvia's red lips expressed scorn. "Ready-made rubbish! No, sir. +With your permission I prefer to make. Then perhaps I shall have +less mending to do." + +He was drawing her to him and she did not actively resist, though +there was no surrender in her attitude. + +"And why won't you have any money?" he said. "We are partners." + +She laughed lightly. "And you give me board and lodging. I am not +worth more." + +He looked her in the eyes. "Are you afraid to take too much--lest +I should want too much in return?" + +She did not answer. She was trembling a little in his hold, but +her eyes met his fearlessly. + +He put up a hand and took the cigarette very gently from her lips. +"Sylvia, I'm going to tell you something--if you'll listen." + +He paused a moment. She was suddenly throbbing from head to foot. + +"What is it?" she whispered. + +He snuffed out the cigarette with his fingers and put it in his +pocket. Then he bent to her, his hand upon her shoulder. + +His lips were open to speak, and her silence waited for the words, +when like the sudden rending of the heavens there came an awful +sound close to them, so close that is shook the windows in their +frames and even seemed to shake the earth under their feet. + +Sylvia started back with a cry, her hands over her face. "Oh, +what--what--what is that?" + +Burke was at the window in a second. He wrenched it open, and as +he did so there came the shock of a thudding fall. A man's +figure, huddled up like an empty sack lay across the threshold. It +sank inwards with the opening of the window, and Guy's face white +as death, with staring, senseless eyes, lay upturned to the +lamplight. + +Something jingled on the floor as his inert form collapsed, and a +smoking revolver dropped at Burke's feet. + +He picked it up sharply, uncocked it and laid it on the table. +Then he stooped over the prostrate body. The limbs were twitching +spasmodically, but the movement was wholly involuntary. The +deathlike face testified to that. And through the grey flannel +shirt above the heart a dark stain spread and spread. + +"He is dead!" gasped Sylvia at Burke's shoulder. + +"No," Burke said. + +He opened the shirt with the words and exposed the wound beneath. +Sylvia shrank at the sight of the welling blood, but Burke's voice +steadied her. + +"Get some handkerchiefs and towels," he said, "and make a wad! We +must stop this somehow." + +His quietness gave her strength. Swiftly she moved to do his +bidding. + +Returning, she found that he had stretched the silent figure full +length upon the floor. The convulsive movements had wholly ceased. +Guy lay like a dead man. + +She knelt beside Burke. "Tell me what to do and I'll do it! I'll +do--anything!" + +"All right," he said. "Get some cold water!" + +She brought it, and he soaked some handkerchiefs and covered the +wound. + +"I think we shall stop it," he said. "Help me to get this thing +under his shoulders! I shall have to tie him up tight. I'll lift +him while you get it underneath." + +She was perfectly steady as she followed his instructions, and even +though in the process her hands were stained with Guy's blood, she +did not shrink again. It was no easy task, but Burke's skill and +strength of muscle accomplished it at last. Across Guy's body he +looked at her with a certain grim triumph. + +"Well played, partner! That's the first move. Are you all right?" + +She saw by his eyes that her face betrayed the horror at her heart. +She tried to smile at him, but her lips felt stiff and cold. Her +look went back to the ashen face on the floor. + +"What--what must be done next?" she said. + +"He will have to stay as he is till we can get a doctor," Burke +answered. "The bleeding has stopped for the present, but--" He +broke off. + +"Child, how sick you look!" he said. "Here, come and wash! +There's nothing more to be done now." + +She got up, feeling her knees bend beneath her but controlling them +with rigid effort. "I--am all right," she said. "You--you think +he isn't dead?" + +Burke's hand closed upon her elbow. "He's not dead,--no! He may +die of course, but I don't fancy he will at present,--not while he +lies like that." + +He was drawing her out of the room, but she resisted him suddenly. +"I can't go. I can't leave him--while he lives. Burke, don't, +please, bother about me! Are you--are you going to fetch a doctor?" + +"Yes," said Burke. + +She looked at him, her eyes wide and piteous. "Then please go +now--go quickly! I--will stay with him till you come back." + +"I shall have to leave you for some hours," he said. + +"Oh, never mind that!" she answered, "Just be as quick as you can, +that's all! I will be with him. I--shan't be afraid." + +She was urging him to the door, but he turned back. He went to the +table, picked up the revolver he had laid there, and put it away in +a cupboard which he locked. + +She marked the action, and as he came to her again, laid a +trembling hand upon his arm. "Burke! Could it--could it have been +an accident?" + +"No. It couldn't," said Burke. He paused a moment, looking at her +in a way she did not understand. She wondered afterwards what had +been passing in his mind. But he said no further word except a +brief, "Good-bye!" + +Ten minutes later, she heard the quick thud of his horse's hoofs as +he rode into the night. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE ABYSS + +"Sylvia!" + +Was it a voice that spoke in the overwhelming silence, or was it +the echo in her soul of a voice that would never speak again? +Sylvia could not decide. She had sat for so long, propped against +a chair, watching that still figure on the floor, straining her +senses to see or hear some sign of breathing, trying to cheat +herself into the belief that he slept, and then with a wrung heart +wondering if he were not better dead. + +All memory of the bitterness and the cruel disappointment that he +had brought into her life had rolled away from her during those +still hours of watching. She did not think of herself at all; only +of Guy, once so eager and full of sparkling hope, now so tragically +fallen in the race of life. All her woman's tenderness was awake +and throbbing with a passionate pity for this lover of her youth. +Why, oh why had he done this thing? The horror of it oppressed her +like a crushing, physical weight. Was it for this that she had +persuaded Burke to rescue him from the depths to which he had sunk? +Had she by her rash interference only precipitated his final +doom--she who had suffered so deeply for his sake, who had yearned +so ardently to bring him back? + +Burke had been against it from the beginning; Burke knew to his +cost the hopelessness of it all. Ah, would it have been better if +she had listened to him and refrained from attempting the +impossible? Would it not have been preferable to accept failure +rather than court disaster? What had she done? What had she done? + +"Sylvia!" + +Surely the old Guy was speaking to her! Those pallid lips could +make no sound; the new, strange Guy was dead. + +As in a dream, she answered him through the silence, feeling as if +she spoke into the shadows of the Unknown. + +"Yes, Guy? Yes? I am here." + +"Will you--forgive me," he said, "for making--a boss shot!" + +Then she turned to the prostrate form beside her on the floor, and +saw that the light of understanding had come back into those +haunted eyes. + +She knelt over him and laid her hand upon his rough hair. "Oh, +Guy, hush--hush!" she said. "Thank God you are still here!" + +A very strange expression flitted over his upturned face, a look +that was indescribably boyish and yet so sad that she caught her +breath to still the intolerable pain at her heart. + +"I shan't be--long." he said. "Thank God for that--too! I've +been--working myself up to it--all day." + +"Guy!" she said. + +He made a slight movement of one hand, and she gathered it close +into her own. It seemed to her that the Shadow of Death had drawn +very near to them, enveloping them both. + +"It had--to be," he said, in the husky halting voice so unfamiliar +to her. "It--was a mistake--to try to bring me back. +I'm--beyond--redemption. Ask Burke;--he knows!" + +"You are not--you are not!" she told him vehemently. "Guy!" She +was holding his hand hard pressed against her heart; her words came +with a rush of pitying tenderness that swept over every barrier. +"Guy! I want you! You must stay. If you go now--you--you will +break my heart." + +His eyes kindled a little at her words, but in a moment the emotion +passed. "It's too late, my dear;--too late," he said and turned +his head on the pillow under it as if seeking rest. "You +don't--understand. Just as well for me perhaps. But I'm better +gone--for your sake, better gone." + +The conviction of his words went through her like a sword-thrust. +He seemed to have passed beyond her influence, almost, she fancied, +not to care. Yet why did the look in his eyes make her think of a +lost child--frightened, groping along an unknown road in the dark? +Why did his hand cling to hers as though it feared to let go? + +She held it very tightly as she made reply. "But, Guy, it isn't +for us to choose. It isn't for us to discharge ourselves. Only +God knows when our work is done." + +He groaned. "I've given all mine to the devil. God couldn't use +me if He tried." + +"You don't know," she said. "You don't know. We're none of us +saints, I think He makes allowances--when things go wrong with +us--just as--just as we make allowances for each other." + +He groaned again. "You would make allowances for the devil +himself," he muttered. "It's the way you're made. But it isn't +justice. Burke would tell you that." + +An odd little tremor of impatience went through her. "I know you +better than Burke does," she said. "Better, probably--than anyone +else in the world." + +He turned his head to and fro upon the pillow. "You don't know me, +Sylvia. You don't know me--at all." + +Yet the husky utterance seemed to plead with her as though he +longed for her to understand. + +She stooped lower over him. "Never mind, dear! I love you all the +same," she said. "And that's why I can't bear you--to go--like +this." Her voice shook unexpectedly. She paused to steady it. +"Guy," she urged, almost under her breath at length, "you will +live--you will try to live--for my sake?" + +Again his eyes were upon her. Again, more strongly, the flame +kindled. Then, very suddenly, a hard shudder went through him, and +a dreadful shadow arose and quenched that vital gleam. For a few +moments consciousness itself seemed to be submerged in the most +awful suffering that Sylvia had ever beheld. His eyeballs rolled +upwards under lids that twitched convulsively. The hand she held +closed in an agonized grip upon her own. She thought that he was +dying, and braced herself instinctively to witness the last +terrible struggle, the rending asunder of soul and body. + +Then--as one upon the edge of an abyss--he spoke, his voice no more +than a croaking whisper. + +"It's hell for me--either way. Living or dead--hell!" + +The paroxysm spent itself and passed like an evil spirit. The +struggle for which she had prepared herself did not come. Instead, +the flickering lids closed over the tortured eyes, the clutching +hand relaxed, and there fell a great silence. + +She sat for a long time not daring to move, scarcely breathing, +wondering if this were the end. Then gradually it came to her, +that he was lying in the stillness of utter exhaustion. She felt +for his pulse and found it beating, weakly but unmistakably. He +had sunk into a sleep which she realized might be the means of +saving his life. + +Thereafter she sat passive, leaning against a chair, waiting, +watching, as she had waited and watched for so long. Once she +leaned her head upon her hand and prayed "O dear God, let him +live!" But something--some inner voice--seemed to check that +prayer, and though her whole soul yearned for its fulfilment she +did not repeat it. Only, after a little, she stooped very low, and +touched Guy's forehead with her lips. + +"God bless you!" she said softly. "God bless you!" + +And in the silence that followed, she thought there was a +benediction. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE DESIRE TO LIVE + +In the last still hour before the dawn there came the tread of +horses' feet outside the bungalow and the sound of men's voices. + +Sylvia looked up as one emerging from a long, long dream, though +she had not closed her eyes all night. The lamp was burning low, +and Guy's face was in deep shadow; but she knew by the hand that +she still held close between her own that he yet lived. She even +fancied that the throb of his pulse was a little stronger. + +She looked at Burke with questioning, uncertain eyes as he entered. +In the dim light he seemed to her bigger, more imposing, more +dominant, than he had ever seemed before. He rolled a little as he +walked as if stiff from long hours in the saddle. + +Behind him came another man--a small thin man with sleek black hair +and a swarthy Jewish face, who moved with a catlike deftness, +making no sound at all. + +"Well, Sylvia?" Burke said. "Is he alive?" + +He took the lamp from the table, and cast its waning light full +upon her. She shrank a little involuntarily from the sudden glare. +Almost without knowing it, she pressed Guy's inert hand to her +breast. The dream was still upon her. It was hardly of her own +volition that she answered him. + +"Yes, he is alive. He has been speaking. I think he is asleep." + +"Permit me!" the stranger said. + +He knelt beside the still form while Burke held the lamp. He +opened the shirt and exposed the blood-soaked bandage. + +Then suddenly he looked at Sylvia with black eyes of a most amazing +brightness. "Madam, you cannot help here. You had better go." + +Somehow he made her think of a raven, unscrupulous, probably wholly +without pity, possibly wicked, and overwhelmingly intelligent. She +avoided his eyes instinctively. They seemed to know too much. + +"Will he--do you think he win--live?" she whispered. + +He made a gesture of the hands that seemed to indicate infinite +possibilities. "I do not think at present. But I must be +undisturbed. Go to your room, madam, and rest! Your husband will +come to you later and tell you what I have done--or failed to do." + +He spoke with absolute fluency but with a foreign accent. His +hands were busy with the bandages, dexterous, clawlike hands that +looked as if they were delving for treasure. + +She watched him, speechless and fascinated, for a few seconds. +Then Burke set the lamp upon the chair against which she had leaned +all the night, and bent down to her. + +"Let me help you!" he said. + +A shuddering horror of the sight before her came upon her. She +yielded herself to him in silence. She was shivering violently +from head to foot. Her limbs were so numb she could not stand. He +raised her and drew her away. + +The next thing she knew was that she was sitting on the bed in her +own room, and he was making her drink brandy and water in so +burning a mixture that it stung her throat. + +She tried to protest, but he would take no refusal till she had +swallowed what he had poured out. Then he put down the glass, +tucked her feet up on the bed with an air of mastery, and spread a +rug over her. + +He would have left her then with a brief injunction to remain where +she was, but she caught and held his arm so that he was obliged to +pause. + +"Burke, is that dreadful man a doctor?" + +"The only one I could get hold of," said Burke. "Yes, he's a +doctor all right. Saul Kieff his name is. I admit he's a +scoundrel, but anyway he's keen on his job." + +"You think he'll save Guy?" she said tremulously. "Oh, Burke, he +must be saved! He must be saved!" + +An odd look came into Burke's eyes. She remembered it later, +though it was gone in an instant like the sudden flare of lightning +across a dark sky. + +"We shall do our best," he said. "You stay here till I come back!" + +She let him go. Somehow that look had given her a curious shock +though she did not understand it. She heard the door shut firmly +behind him, and she huddled herself down upon the pillow and lay +still. + +She wished he had not made her drink that fiery draught. All her +senses were in a tumult, and yet her body felt as if weighted with +lead. She lay listening tensely for every sound, but the silence +was like a blanket wrapped around her--a blanket which nothing +seemed to penetrate. + +It seemed to overwhelm her at last, that silence, to blot out the +clamour of her straining nerves, to deprive her of the power to +think. Though she did not know it, the stress of that night's +horror and vigil had worn her out. She sank at length into a deep +sleep from which it seemed that nought could wake her. And when +more than an hour later, Burke came, treading softly, and looked +upon her, he did not need to keep that burning hunger-light out of +his eyes. For she was wholly unconscious of him as though her +spirit were in another world. + +He looked and looked with a gaze that seemed as if it would consume +her. And at last he leaned over her, with arms outspread, and +touched her sunny, disordered hair with his lips. It was the +lightest touch, far too light to awaken her. But, as if some happy +thought had filtered down through the deeps of her repose, she +stirred in her sleep. She turned her face up to him with the faint +smile of a slumbering child. + +"Good night!" she murmured drowsily. + +Her eyes half-opened upon him. She gave him her lips. + +And as he stooped, with a great tremor, to kiss them, "Good night, +dear--Guy!" Her voice was fainter, more indistinct. She sank back +again into that deep slumber from which she had barely been roused. + +And Burke went from her with the flower-like memory of her kiss +upon his lips, and the dryness of ashes in his mouth. + + +It was several hours later that Sylvia awoke to full consciousness +and a piercing realization of a strange presence that watched by +her side. + +She opened her eyes wide with a curious conviction that there was a +cat in the room, and then all in a moment she met the cool, +repellent stare of the black-browed doctor whom Burke had brought +from Ritzen. + +A little quiver of repugnance went through her at the sight, +swiftly followed by a sharp thrill of indignation. What was he +doing seated there by her side--this swarthy-faced stranger whom +she had disliked instinctively at first sight? + +And then--suddenly it rushed through her mind that he was the +bearer of evil tidings, that he had come to tell her that Guy was +dead. She raised herself sharply. + +"Oh, what is it? What is it?" she gasped. "Tell me quickly! It's +better for me to know. It's better for me to know." + +He put out a narrow, claw-like hand and laid it upon her arm. His +eyes were like onyxes, Oriental, quite emotionless. + +"Do not agitate yourself, madam!" he said. "My patient is better. +I think, that with care--he may live. That is, if he finds it +worth while." + +"What do you mean?" she said in a whisper. + +That there was a veiled meaning to his words she was assured at the +outset. His whole bearing conveyed something mysterious, something +sinister, to her startled imagination. She wanted to shake off the +hand upon her arm, but she had to suffer it though the man's bare +touch revolted her. + +He was leaning slightly towards her, but yet his face was utterly +inanimate. It was obvious that though he had imposed his +personality upon her with a definite end in view, he was personally +totally indifferent as to whether he achieved that end or not. + +"I mean," he said, after a quiet pause, "that the desire to live is +sometimes the only medicine that is of any avail. I know Guy +Ranger. He is a fool in many ways, but not in all. He is not for +instance fool enough to hang on to life if it holds nothing worth +having. He was born with an immense love of life. He would not +have done this thing if he had not somehow lost this gift--for it +is a gift. If he does not get it back--somehow--then," the black, +stony eyes looked into hers without emotion--"he will die." + +She shrank at the cold deliberation of his words. "Oh no--no! Not +like this! Not--by his own hand!" + +"Ah!" He leaned towards her, bringing his sallow, impassive +countenance close to hers, repulsively close, to her over-acute +sensibilities. "And how is that to be prevented? Who is to give +him that priceless remedy--the only medicine that can save him? +Can I?" He lifted his shoulders expressively, indicating his own +helplessness. And then in a voice dropped to a whisper, "Can you?" + +She did not answer him. There was something horrible to her in +that low-spoken question, something that yet possessed for her a +species of evil fascination that restrained her from open revolt. + +He waited for a while, his eyes so immovably fixed upon hers that +she had a mild wonder if they were lidless--as the eyes of a +serpent. + +Then at last, through grim pale lips that did not seem to move, he +spoke again. "Madam, it lies with you whether Guy Ranger lives or +dies. You can open to him the earthly paradise or you can hurl him +back to hell. I have only Drought him a little way. I cannot keep +him. Even now, he is slipping--he is slipping from my hold. It is +you, and you alone, who can save him. How do I know this thing? +How do I know that the sun rises in the east? I--have--seen. It +is you who have taken from him the desire to live--perhaps +unintentionally; that I do not know. It is you--and you alone--who +can restore it. Need I say more than this to open your eyes? +Perhaps they are already open. Perhaps already your heart has been +in communion with his. If so, then you know that I have told you +the truth. If you really desire to save him--and I think you +do--then everything else in life must go to that end. Women were +made for sacrifice, they say." A sardonic flicker that was +scarcely a smile touched his face. "Well, that is the only way of +saving him. If you fail him, he will go under." + +He got up with the words. He had evidently said his say. As his +hand left hers, Sylvia drew a deep hard breath, as of one emerging +from a suffocating atmosphere. She had never felt so oppressed, so +fettered, with evil in the whole of her life. And yet he had not +urged her to any line of action. He had merely somewhat baldly, +wholly dispassionately, told her the truth, and the very absence of +emotion with which he had spoken had driven conviction to her soul. +She saw him go with relief, but his words remained like a stone at +the bottom of her heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE REMEDY + +When Sylvia went to Guy a little later, she found him installed in +Burke's room. Burke himself was out on the farm, but it was past +the usual hour for luncheon, and she knew he would be returning +soon. + +Kieff rose up noiselessly from the bedside at her entrance, and she +saw that Guy was asleep. She was conscious of a surging, +passionate longing to be alone with him as she crept forward. The +silent presence of this stranger had a curious, nauseating effect +upon her. She suppressed a shudder as she passed him. + +He stood behind her in utter immobility as she bent over the bed. +Guy was lying very still, but though he was pale, the deathly look +had gone from his face. He looked unutterably tired, but very +peaceful. + +Lying so, with all the painful lines of his face relaxed, she saw +the likeness of his boyhood very clearly on his quiet features, and +her heart gave a quick hard throb within her that sent the hot +tears to her eyes. The sight of him grew blurred and dim. She +just touched his black hair with trembling fingers as she fought +back a sob. + +And then quite suddenly his eyes were open, looking at her. The +pupils were enormously enlarged, giving him an unfamiliar look. +But at sight of her, a quick smile flashed across his face--his old +glad smile of welcome, and she knew him again. "Hullo--darling!" +he said. + +She could not speak in answer. She could only lay her hand over +his and hold it fast. + +He went on, his speech rapid, slightly incoherent. Guy had been +like that, she remembered, in moments of any excitement or stress. + +"I've had a beastly bad dream, sweetheart. Thought I'd lost +you--somehow I was messing about in a filthy fog, and there were +beastly precipices about. And you--you were calling +somewhere--telling me not to forget something. What was it? I'm +dashed if I can remember now." + +"It--doesn't matter," she managed to say, though her voice was +barely audible. + +He opened his eyes a little wider. "Are you crying, I say? What's +the matter? What, darling? You're not crying for me? Eh? I +shall get over it. I always come up again. Ask Kelly! Ask Kieff!" + +"Yes, you always come up again," Kieff said, in his brief, +mechanical voice. + +Guy threw him a look that was a curious blend of respect and +disgust. "Hullo, Lucifer!" he said. "What are you doing here? +Come to show us the quickest way to hell? He's an authority on +that, Sylvia. He knows all the shortest cuts." + +He broke off with a sudden hard breath, and Sylvia saw again that +awful shadow gather in his eyes. She made way for Kieff, though +not consciously at his behest, and there followed a dreadful +struggling upon which she could not look. Kieff spoke once or +twice briefly, authoritatively, and was answered by a sound more +anguished than any words. Then at the end of several unspeakable +seconds she heard Burke's footstep outside the door. She turned to +him as he entered, with a thankfulness beyond all expression. + +"Oh, Burke, he is suffering--so terribly. Do see if you can help!" + +He passed her swiftly and went to the other side of the bed. +Somehow his presence braced her. She looked again upon Guy in his +extremity. + +He was propped against Kieff's shoulder, his face quite livid, his +eyes roaming wildly round the room, till suddenly they found and +rested upon her own. All her life Sylvia was to remember the +appeal those eyes held for her. It was as if his soul were crying +aloud to her for freedom. + +She came to the foot of the bed. The anguish had entered into her +also, and it was more than she could bear. + +She turned from Burke to Kieff. "Oh, do anything--anything--to +help him!" she implored him. "Don't let him suffer--like this!" + +Kieff's hand went to his pocket. "There is only one thing," he +said. + +Burke, his arm behind Guy's convulsed body, made an abrupt gesture +with his free hand. "Wait! He'll come through it. He did before." + +And still those tortured eyes besought Sylvia, urged her, entreated +her. + +She left the foot of the bed, and went to Kieff. Her lips felt +stiff and numb, but she forced them to speak. + +"If you have anything that will help him, give it to him now! +Don't wait! Don't wait!" + +Kieff the impassive, nodded briefly, and took his hand from his +pocket. + +"Wait! He is better," Burke said. + +But, "Don't wait! Don't wait!" whispered Sylvia. "Don't let him +die--like this!" + +Kieff held out to her a small leather case. "Open it!" he said. + +She obeyed him though her hands were trembling. She took out the +needle and syringe it contained. + +Burke said no more. Perhaps he realized that the cause was already +lost. And so he looked on in utter silence while Sylvia and Kieff +between them administered the only thing that could ease the awful +suffering that seemed greater than flesh and blood could bear. + +It took effect with marvellous quickness--that remedy of Kieff's. +It was, to Sylvia's imagination, like the casting forth of a demon. +Guy's burning eyes ceased to implore her. He strained no longer in +the cruel grip. His whole frame relaxed, and he even smiled at her +as they laid him back against the pillows. + +"That's better," he said. + +"Thank God!" Sylvia whispered. + +His eyes were drooping heavily. He tried to keep them open. "Hold +my hand!" he murmured to her. + +She sat on the edge of the bed, and took it between her own. + +His finger pressed hers. "That's good, darling. Now I'm happy. +Wish we--could go on like this--always. Don't you?" + +"No," she whispered back. "I want you well again." + +"Ah!" His eyes were closing; he opened them again. "You mean +that, sweetheart? You really want me?" + +"Of course I do," she said. + +Guy was still smiling but there was pathos in his smile. "Ah, that +makes a difference," he said, "--all the difference. That means +you've quite forgiven me. Quite, Sylvia?" + +"Quite," she answered, and she spoke straight from her heart. She +had forgotten Burke, forgotten Kieff, forgotten everyone in that +moment save Guy, the dear lover of her youth. + +And he too was looking at her with eyes that saw her alone. "Kiss +me, little sweetheart!" he said softly. "And then I'll know--for +sure." + +It was boyishly spoken, and she could not refuse. She had no +thought of refusing. + +As in the old days when they had been young together, her heart +responded to the call of his. She leaned down to him instantly and +very lovingly, and kissed him. + +"Sure you want me?" whispered Guy. + +"God knows I do," she answered him very earnestly. + +He smiled at her and closed his eyes. "Good night!" he murmured. + +"Good night, dear!" she whispered back. + +And then in the silence that followed she knew that he fell asleep. + +Someone touched her shoulder, and she looked up. Burke was +standing by her side. + +"You can leave him now," he said. "He won't wake." + +He spoke very quietly, but she thought his face was stern. A faint +throb of misgiving went through her. She slipped her hand free and +rose. + +She saw that Kieff had already gone, and for a moment she +hesitated. But Burke took her steadily by the arm, and led her +from the room. + +"He won't wake," he reiterated. "You must have something to eat," + +They entered the sitting-room, and she saw with relief that Kieff +was not there either. The table was spread for luncheon, and Burke +led her to it. + +"Sit down!" he said. "Never mind about Kieff! He can look after +himself." + +She sat down in silence. Somehow she felt out of touch with Burke +at that moment. Her long vigil beside Guy seemed in some +inexplicable fashion to have cut her off from him. Or was it those +strange words that Kieff had uttered and which even yet were +running in her brain? Whatever it was, it prevented all intimacy +between them. They might have been chance-met strangers sitting at +the same board. He waited upon her as if he were thinking of other +things. + +Her own thoughts were with Guy alone. She ate mechanically, half +unconsciously watching the door, her ears strained to catch any +sound. + +"He will probably sleep for hours," Burke said, breaking the +silence. + +She looked at him with a start. She had almost forgotten his +presence. She met his eyes and felt for a few seconds oddly +disconcerted. It was with an effort she spoke in answer. + +"I hope he will. That suffering is so terrible." + +"It's bad enough," said Burke. "But the morphia habit is worse. +That's damnable." + +She drew a sharp breath. She felt almost as if he had struck her +over the heart. "Oh, but surely--" she said--"surely--having it +just once--like that----" + +"Do you think he is the sort of man to be satisfied with just once +of anything?" said Burke. + +The question did not demand an answer, she made none. With an +effort she controlled her distress and changed the subject. + +"How long will Dr. Kieff stay?" + +Burke's eyes were upon her again. She wished he would not look at +her so intently. "He will probably see him through," he said. +"How long that will take it is impossible to say. Not long, I +hope." + +"You don't like him?" she ventured. + +"Personally," said Burke, "I detest him. He is not out here in his +professional capacity. In fact I have a notion that he was kicked +out of that some years ago. But that doesn't prevent him being a +very clever surgeon. He likes a job of this kind." + +Sylvia caught at the words. "Then he ought to succeed," she said. +"Surely he will succeed!" + +"I think you may trust him to do his best," Burke said. + +They spoke but little during the rest of the meal. There seemed to +be nothing to say. In some curious fashion Sylvia felt paralyzed. +She could not turn her thought in any but the one direction, and +she knew subtly but quite unmistakably that in this they were not +in sympathy. It was a relief to her when Burke rose from the +table. She was longing to get back to Guy. She had an almost +overwhelming desire to be alone with him, even though he lay +unconscious of her. They had known each other so long ago, before +she had come to this land of strangers. Was it altogether +unnatural that meeting thus again the old link should have been +forged anew? And his need of her was so great--infinitely greater +now than it had ever been before. + +She lingered a few moments to set the table in order for Kieff; +then turned to go to him, and was surprised to find Burke still +standing by the door. + +She looked at him questioningly, and as if in answer he laid his +hand upon her shoulder, detaining her. He did not speak +immediately, and she had a curious idea that he was embarrassed. + +"What is it, partner?" she said, withdrawing her thoughts from Guy +with a conscious effort. + +He bent slightly towards her. His hold upon her was not wholly +steady. It was as if some hidden force vibrated strongly within +him, making itself felt to his very finger-tips. Yet his face was +perfectly composed, even grim, as he said, "There is one thing I +want to say to you before you go. Sylvia, I haven't asserted any +right over you so far. But don't forget--don't let anyone induce +you to forget--that the right is mine! I may claim it--some day." + +That aroused her from preoccupation very effectually. The colour +flamed in her face. "Burke! I don't understand you!" she said, +speaking quickly and rather breathlessly, for her heart was beating +fast and hard. "Have you gone mad?" + +"No, I am not mad," he said, and faintly smiled. + +"I am just looking after our joint interests, that's all." + +She opened her eyes wide. "Still I don't understand you," she +said. "I thought you promised--I thought we agreed--that you were +never to interfere with my liberty." + +"Unless you abused it," said Burke. + +She flinched a little in spite of herself, so uncompromising were +both his tone and attitude. But in a moment she drew herself +erect, facing him fearlessly. + +"I don't think you know--quite--what you are saying to me," she +said. "You are tired, and you are looking at things--all crooked. +Will you please take a rest this afternoon? I am sure you need it. +And to-night--" She paused a moment, for, her courage +notwithstanding, she had begun to tremble--"to-night,"--she said +again, and still paused, feeling his hand tighten upon her, feeling +her heart quicken almost intolerably under its weight. + +"Yes?" he said, his voice low, intensely quiet, "Please finish! +What am I to do to-night?" + +She faced him bravely, with all her strength. "I hope," she said, +"you will come and tell me you are sorry." + +He threw up his head with a sharp gesture. She saw his eyes kindle +and burn with a flame she dared not meet. + +A swift misgiving assailed her. She tried to release herself, but +he took her by the other shoulder also, holding her before him. + +"And if I do all that," he said, a deep quiver in his voice that +thrilled her through and through, "what shall I get in return? How +shall I be rewarded?" + +She gripped her self-control with a great effort, summoning that +high courage of hers which had never before failed her. + +She smiled straight up at him, a splendid, resolute smile. "You +shall have--the kiss of peace," she said. + +His expression changed. For a moment his hold became a grip that +hurt her--bruised her. She closed her eyes with an involuntary +catch of the breath, waiting, expecting she knew not what. Then, +very suddenly, the strain was over. He set her free and turned +from her. + +"Thank you." he said, in a voice that sounded oddly strangled. +"But I don't find that--especially satisfying--just now." + +His hands were clenched as he left her. She did not dare to follow +him or call him back. + + + + +PART III + +CHAPTER I + +THE NEW ERA + +Looking back later, it almost seemed to Sylvia that the days that +followed were as an interval between two acts in the play of life. +It was a time of transition, though what was happening within her +she scarcely realized. + +One thing only did she fully recognize, and that was that the old +frank comradeship between herself and Burke had come to an end. +During all the anxiety of those days and the many fluctuations +through which Guy passed, Burke came and went as an outsider, +scarcely seeming to be interested in what passed, never +interfering. He never spoke to Kieff unless circumstances +compelled him, and with Sylvia herself he was so reticent as to be +almost forbidding. Her mind was too full of Guy, too completely +occupied with the great struggle for his life, to allow her +thoughts to dwell very much upon any other subject. She saw that +Burke's physical wants were attended to, and that was all that she +had time for just then. He was sleeping in the spare hut which she +had prepared for Guy with such tender care, and she was quite +satisfied as to his comfort there. It came to be something of a +relief when every evening he betook himself thither. Though she +never actually admitted it to herself, she was always more at ease +when he was out of the bungalow. + +She and Kieff were fighting inch by inch to save Guy, and she could +not endure any distractions while the struggle lasted. For it was +a desperate fight, and there was little rest for either of them. +Her first sensation of repugnance for this man had turned into a +species of unwilling admiration, His adroitness, his resource, the +almost uncanny power of his personality, compelled her to a curious +allegiance. She gave him implicit obedience, well knowing that, +though in all else they were poles asunder, in this thing they were +as one. They were allied in the one great effort to defeat the +Destroyer. They fought day and night, shoulder to shoulder, never +yielding, never despairing, never slacking. + +And very gradually at last the tide that had ebbed so low began to +turn. Through bitter suffering, often against his will, Guy Ranger +was drawn slowly back again to the world he had so nearly left. +Kieff never let him suffer for long. He gave him oblivion whenever +the weakened endurance threatened to fail. And Sylvia, seeing that +the flickering strength was always greater under the influence of +Kieff's remedy, raised no protest. They fought death with the +weapon of death. It would be time enough when the battle was won +to cast that weapon aside. + +During those days of watching and conflict, she held little +converse with Guy. He was like a child, content in his waking +hours to have her near him, and fretful if she were ever absent. +Under Kieff's guidance, she nursed him with unfailing care, +developing a skill with which she had never credited herself. As +gradually his strength returned, he would have her do everything +for him, resenting even Kieff's interference though never actively +resisting his authority. He seemed to stand in awe of Kieff, +Sylvia noticed, a feeling from which she herself was not wholly +free. For there was a subtle mastery about him which influenced +her in spite of herself. But she had put aside her instinctive +dislike of the man because of the debt she owed him. He had +brought Guy back, had wrenched him from the very jaws of Death, and +she would never forget it. He had saved her from a life-long +sorrow. + +And so, as slowly Guy returned, she schooled herself to subdue a +certain distrust of him which was never wholly absent from her +consciousness. She forced herself to treat him as a friend. She +silenced the warning voice within her that had bade her so +constantly beware. Perhaps her own physical endurance had begun to +waver a little after the long strain. Undoubtedly his influence +over her was such as it could scarcely have become under any other +circumstances. Her long obedience to his will in the matter of Guy +had brought her to a state of submission at which once she would +have scoffed. And when at last, the worst of the battle over, she +was overtaken by an overpowering weariness of mind and body, all +things combined to place her at a hopeless disadvantage. + +One day, after three weeks of strenuous nursing, she quitted Guy's +room very suddenly to battle with a ghastly feeling of faintness +which threatened to overwhelm her. Kieff, who had been present +with Guy, followed her almost immediately to her own room, and +found her with a deathly face groping against the wall as one +stricken blind. + +He took her firmly by the shoulders and forced her down over the +back of a chair, holding her so with somewhat callous strength of +purpose, till with a half-hysterical gasp she begged him to set her +free. The colour had returned to her face when she stood up, but +those few moments of weakness had bereft her of her self-control. +She could not restrain her tears. + +Kieff showed no emotion of any sort. With professional calm, he +put her down upon the bed, and stood over her, feeling her pulse. + +"You want sleep," he said. + +She turned her face away from him, ashamed of the weakness she +could not hide. "Yes, I know. But I can't sleep. I'm always +listening. I can't help it. My brain feels wound up. +Sometimes--sometimes it feels as if it hurts me to shut my eyes." + +"There's a remedy for that," said Kieff, and his hand went to his +pocket. + +She looked at him startled. "Oh, not that! Not that! I couldn't. +It would be wrong." + +"Not if I advise it," said Kieff, with a self-assurance that seemed +to knock aside her resistance as of no account. + +She knew she ought to have resisted further, but somehow she could +not. His very impassivity served to make opposition impossible. +It came to her that the inevitable was upon her, and whatever she +said would make no difference. Moreover, she was too tired greatly +to care. + +She uttered a little cry when a few seconds later she felt the +needle pierce her flesh, but she submitted without a struggle. +After all, what did it matter for once? And she needed rest so much. + +With a sigh she surrendered herself, and was amazed at the swift +relief that came to her. It was like the rolling away of an +immense weight, and immediately she seemed to float upwards, +upwards, like a soaring bird. + +Kieff remained by her side, but his presence did not trouble her. +She was possessed by an ecstasy so marvellous that she had no room +for any other emotion; She was as one borne on wings, ascending, +ever ascending, through an atmosphere of transcendent gold. + +Once he touched her forehead, and bringing his hand slowly +downwards compelled her to close her eyes. A brief darkness came +upon her, and she uttered a muffled protest. But when he lifted +his hand again, her eyes did not open. The physical had fallen +from her, material things had ceased to matter. She was free--free +as the ether through which she floated. She was mounting upwards, +upwards, upwards, through celestial morning to her castle at the +top of the world. And the magic--the magic that beat in her +veins--was the very elixir of life within her, inspiring her, +uplifting her. For a space she hovered thus, still mounting, but +imperceptibly, caught as it were between earth and heaven. Then +the golden glamour about her turned to a mystic haze. Strange +visions, but half comprehended, took shape and dissolved before +her. She believed that she was floating among the mountain-crests +with the Infinite all about her. The wonder of it and the rapture +were beyond all utterance, beyond the grasp of human knowledge; the +joy exceeded all that she had ever known. And so by exquisite +phases, she entered at last a great vastness--a slumber-space where +all things were forgotten, lost in the radiance of an unbroken +peace. + +She folded the wings of her enchantment with absolute contentment +and slept. She had come to a new era in her existence. She had +reached the top of the world. . . . + +It was long, long after that she awoke, returning to earth with the +feeling of one revisiting old haunts after half a lifetime. She +was very tired, and her head throbbed painfully, but at the back of +her brain was an urgent sense of something needed, something that +must be done. She raised herself with immense effort,--and met the +eyes of Burke seated by her side. + +He was watching her with a grave, unstirring attention that did not +waver for an instant as she moved. It struck her that there was a +strange remoteness about him, almost as if he belonged to another +world. Or was it she--she who had for a space overstepped the +boundary and wandered awhile through the Unknown? + +He spoke, and in his voice was a depth that awed her. + +"Do you know me?" he said. + +She gazed at him, bewildered, wondering. "But of course I know +you! Why do you ask? Are you--changed in any way?" + +He made an odd movement, as if the question in her wide eyes +pierced him. He did not answer her in words; only after a moment +he took her hand and pushed up the sleeve as though looking for +something. + +She lay passive for a few seconds, watching him. Then suddenly, +blindly, she realized what was the object of his search. She made +a quick, instinctive movement to frustrate him. + +His hand tightened instantly upon hers; he pointed to a tiny mark +upon the inside of her arm. "How did you get that?" he said. + +His eyes looked straight into hers. There was something pitiless, +something almost brutal, in their regard. In spite of herself she +flinched, and lowered her own. + +"Answer me!" he said. + +She felt the hot colour rush in a guilty flood over her face. "It +was only--for once," she faltered. "I wanted sleep, and I couldn't +get it." + +"Kieff gave it you," he said, his tone grimly insistent. + +She nodded. "Yes. He meant well. He saw I was fagged out." + +Burke was silent for a space, still grasping her hand. Her head +was throbbing dizzily, but she would not lower it to the pillow +again in his presence. She felt almost like a prisoner awaiting +sentence. + +"Did he give it you against your will?" he asked at length. + +"Not altogether." Her voice was almost a whisper. Her heart was +beating with hard, uneven strokes. She felt sick and faint. + +Burke moved suddenly, releasing her hand. He rose with that +decision characteristic of him and walked across the room. She +heard the splash of water in a basin, and then he came back to her. +As if she had been a child, he raised her to lean against him, and +proceeded very quietly to bathe her face and head with ice-cold +water. + +She shrank at the chill of it, but he persisted in his task, and +very soon she began to feel refreshed. + +"Thank you," she murmured at last. "I am better now. I will get +up." + +"You had better lie still for the present," he said. "I will send +you in some supper later." + +His tone was repressive. She could not look him in the face. But, +as he made as if he would rise, something impelled her to lay a +detaining hand upon his arm. + +"Please wait a minute!" she said, + +He waited, and in a moment, with difficulty, she went on. + +"Burke, I have done wrong, I know. I am sorry. Please don't be +angry with me! I--can't bear it." + +There was a catch in her voice that she could not restrain. She +had a great longing to hide her face on his shoulder and burst into +tears. But something--some inner, urgent warning--held her back. + +Burke sat quite still. There was a touch of rigidity in his +attitude. "All right," he said at last. "I am not angry--with +you." + +Her fingers closed upon his arm. "Please don't quarrel with Dr. +Kieff about it!" she said nervously. "It won't happen again." + +She felt him stiffen still further at her words. "It certainly +won't," he said briefly, "Tell me, have you got any of the infernal +stuff by you?" + +She glanced up at him, startled by the question. "Of course I +haven't!" she said. + +His eyes held a glitter that was almost bestial. She dropped her +hand from, his arm as if she had received an electric shock. He +got up instantly. + +"Very well. I will leave you now. You had better go to bed." + +"I must see Guy first," she objected. + +"I am attending to Guy," he said. + +That opened her eyes. She started up, facing him, a sudden sharp +misgiving at her heart. "Burke! You! Where--is Dr. Kieff?" + +He uttered a grim, exultant sound that made her quiver. "He is on +his way back to Ritzen--or Brennerstadt. He didn't mention which." + +"Ah!" Her hands were tightly clasped upon her breast. "What--what +have you done to him?" she panted. + +Burke had risen to his feet. "I have--helped him on his way, +that's all," he said. + +She tried to stand up also, but the moment she touched the ground, +she reeled. He caught her, and held her, facing him. His eyes +shone with a glow as of molten metal, + +"Do you think," he said, breathing deeply, "that I would suffer +that accursed fiend to drag my wife--my wife--down into that +infernal slough?" + +She was trembling from head to foot; her knees doubled under her, +but he held her up. The barely repressed violence of his speech +was perceptible in his hold also. She had no strength to meet it. + +"But what of Guy?" she whispered voicelessly. "He will die!" + +"Guy!" he said, and in the word there was a bitterness +indescribable. "Is be to be weighed in the balance against you?" + +She was powerless to reason with him, and perhaps it was as well +for her that this was so, for he was in no mood to endure +opposition. His wrath seemed to beat about her like a storm-blast. +But yet he held her up, and after a moment, seeing her weakness, he +softened somewhat. + +"There! Lie down again!" he said, and lowered her to the bed. +"I'll see to Guy. Only remember," he stooped over her, and to her +strained senses he loomed gigantic, "if you ever touch that stuff +again, my faith in you will be gone. And where there is no trust, +you can't expect--honour." + +The words seemed to pierce her, but he straightened himself the +moment after and turned to go. + +She covered her face with her hands as the door closed upon him. +She felt as if she had entered upon a new era, indeed, and she +feared with a dread unspeakable to look upon the path which lay +before her. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +INTO BATTLE + +When Sylvia saw Guy again, he greeted her with an odd expression in +his dark eyes, half-humorous, half-speculative. He was lying +propped on pillows by the open window, a cigarette and a box of +matches by his side. + +"Hullo, Sylvia!" he said. "You can come in. The big _baas_ has +set his house in order and gone out." + +The early morning sunshine was streaming across his bed. She +thought he looked wonderfully better, and marvelled at the change. + +He smiled at her as she drew near. "Yes, I've been washed and fed +and generally made respectable. Thank goodness that brute Kieff +has gone anyway! I couldn't have endured him much longer. What +was the grand offence? Did he make love to you or what?" + +"Make love to me! Of course not!" Sylvia flushed indignantly at +the suggestion. + +Guy laughed; he seemed in excellent spirits. "He'd better not, +what? But the big _baas_ was very angry with him, I can tell you. +And I can't think it was on my account. I'm inoffensive enough, +heavens knows." + +He reached up a hand as she stood beside him, and took and held +hers. + +"You're a dear girl, Sylvia," he said. "Just the very sight of you +does me good. You're not sorry Kieff has gone?" + +"Sorry! No!" She looked down at him with doubt in her eyes. +"Only--we owe him a good deal, remember. He saved your life." + +"Oh, that!" said Guy lightly. "You may set your mind quite at rest +on that score, my dear. He wouldn't have done it if he hadn't felt +like it. He pleases himself in all he does. But I should like to +have witnessed his exit last night. That, I imagine, was more +satisfactory from Burke's point of view than from his. +He--Burke--came back with that smile-on-the-face-of-the-tiger +expression of his. You've seen it, I daresay. It was very much in +evidence last night." + +Sylvia repressed a sudden shiver. "Oh, Guy! What do you think +happened?" + +He gave her hand a sudden squeeze. "Nothing to worry about, I do +assure you. He's a devil of a fellow when he's roused, isn't he? +But--so far as my knowledge goes--he's never killed anyone yet. +Sit down, old girl, and let's have a smoke together! I'm allowed +just one to-day--as a reward for good behaviour." + +"Are you being good?" said Sylvia. + +Guy closed one eye. "Oh, I'm a positive saint to-day. I've +promised--almost--never to be naughty again. Do you know Burke +slept on the floor in here last night? Decent of him, wasn't it?" + +Sylvia glanced swiftly round. "Did he? How uncomfortable for him! +He mustn't do that again," + +"He didn't notice," Guy assured her. "He was much too pleased with +himself. I rather like him for that, you know. He has a wonderful +faculty for--what shall we call it?--mental detachment? Or, is it +physical? Anyway, he knows how to enjoy his emotions, whatever +they are, and he doesn't let any little personal discomfort stand +in his way." + +He ended with a careless laugh from which all bitterness was +absent, and after a little pause Sylvia sat down by his side. His +whole attitude amazed her this morning. Some magic had been at +work. The fretful misery of the past few weeks had passed like a +cloud. This was her own Guy come back to her, clean, sane, with +the boyish humour that she had always loved in him, and the old +quick light of understanding and sympathy in his eyes. + +He watched her with a smile. "Aren't you going to light up, too? +Come, you'd better. It'll tone you up," + +She looked back at him. "Had you better smoke?" she said. "Won't +it start your cough?" + +He lifted an imperious hand. "It won't kill me if it does. Why +are you looking at me like that?" + +"Like what?" she said. + +"As if I'd come back from the dead." He frowned at her abruptly +though his eyes still smiled. "Don't!" he said. + +She smiled in answer, and picked up the matchbox. It was of silver +and bore his initials. + +"Yes," Guy said, "I've taken great care of it, haven't I? It's +been my mascot all these years." + +She took out a match and struck it without speaking. There was +something poignant in her silence. She was standing again in the +wintry dark of her father's park, pressed close to Guy's heart, and +begging him brokenly to use that little parting gift of hers with +thoughts of her when more than half the world lay between them. +Guy's cigarette was in his mouth. She stooped forward to light it. +Her hand was trembling. In a moment he reached up, patted it +lightly, and took the match from her fingers. The action said more +than words. It was as if he had gently turned a page in the book +of life, and bade her not to look back. + +"Now don't you bother about me!" he said. "I'm being good--as you +see. So go and cook the dinner or do anything else that appeals to +your housekeeper's soul! That is, if you feel it's immoral to +smoke a cigarette at this early hour. Needless to say, I shall be +charmed if you will join me." + +But he did not mean to talk upon intimate subjects, and his tone +conveyed as much. She lingered for a while, and they spoke of the +farm, the cattle, Burke's prospects, everything under the sun save +personal matters. Yet there was no barrier in their reserve. They +avoided these by tacit consent. + +In the end she left him, feeling strangely comforted. Burke had +been right. The devil had gone out of Guy, and he had come back. + +She pondered the matter as she went about her various tasks, but +she found no solution thereof. Something must have happened to +cause the change in him; she could not believe that Kieff's +departure had effected it. Her thoughts went involuntarily to +Burke--Burke whose wrath had been so terrible the previous night. +Was it due to him? Had he accomplished what neither Kieff's skill +nor her devotion had been able to achieve? Yet he had spoken of +Guy as one of his failures. He had impressed upon her the fact +that Guy's, case was hopeless. She had even been convinced of it +herself until to-day. But to-day all things were changed. Guy had +come back. + +The thought of her next meeting with Burke tormented her +continually, checking all gladness. She dreaded it unspeakably, +listening for him with nerves on edge during the busy hours that +followed. + +She made the Kaffir boy bring the camp-bed out of the guest-hut +which Burke had occupied of late and set it up in a corner of Guy's +room. Kieff had slept on a long-chair in the sitting-room, taking +his rest at odd times and never for any prolonged spell. She had +even wondered sometimes if he ever really slept at all, so alert +had he been at the slightest sound. But she knew that Burke hated +the long-chair because it creaked at every movement, and she was +determined that he should not spend another night on the floor. +So, while with trepidation she awaited him, she made such +preparations as she could for his comfort. + +Joe, the house-boy, was very clumsy in all his ways, and Guy, +looking on, seemed to derive considerable amusement from his +performance. "I always did like Joe," he remarked. "There's +something about his mechanism that is irresistibly comic. Oh, do +leave him alone, Sylvia! Let him arrange the thing upside down if +he wants to!" + +Joe's futility certainly had something of the comic order about it. +He had a dramatic fashion of rolling his eyes when expectant of +rebuke, which was by no means seldom. And the vastness of his +smile was almost bewildering. Sylvia had never been able quite to +accustom herself to his smile. + +"He's exactly like a golliwog, isn't he?" said Guy. "His head will +split in two if you encourage him." + +But Sylvia, hot and anxious, found it impossible to view Joe's +exhibition with enjoyment. He was more stupid in the execution of +her behests than she had ever found him before, and at length, +losing patience, she dismissed him and proceeded to erect the bed +herself. + +She was in the midst of this when there came the sound of a step in +the room, and Guy's quick, + +"Hullo!" told her of the entrance of a third person. She stood up +sharply, and met Burke face to face. + +She was panting a little from her exertions, and her hand went to +her side. For the moment a horrible feeling of discomfiture +overwhelmed her. His look was so direct; it seemed to go straight +through her. + +"What is this for?" he said. + +She mastered her embarrassment with a swift effort. "Guy said you +slept on the floor last night. I am sure it wasn't very +comfortable, so I have brought this in instead. You don't mind?" +with a glance at him that held something of appeal. + +"I mind you putting it up yourself," he said briefly. "Sit down! +Where's that lazy hound, Joe?" + +"Oh, don't call Joe!" Guy begged. "He has already reduced her to +exasperation. She won't listen to me either when I tell her that I +can look after myself at night. You tell her, Burke! She'll +listen to you perhaps." + +But Burke ended the matter without further discussion by putting +her on one side and finishing the job himself. Then he stood up. + +"Let Mary Ann do the rest! You have been working too hard. Come, +and have some lunch! You'll be all right, Guy?" + +"Oh, quite," Guy assured him. "Mary Ann can take care of me. +She'll enjoy it." + +Sylvia looked back at him over her shoulder as she went out, but +she did not linger. There was something imperious about Burke just +then. + +They entered the sitting-room together. "Look here!" he said. +"You're not to tire yourself out. Guy is convalescent now. Let +him look after himself for a bit!" + +"I haven't been doing anything for Guy," she objected. "Only I +can't have you sleeping on the floor." + +"What's it matter," he said gruffly, "where or how I sleep?" And +then suddenly he took her by the shoulders and held her before him. +"Just look at me a moment!" he said. + +It was a definite command. She lifted her eyes, but the instant +they met his that overwhelming confusion came upon her again. His +gaze was so intent, so searching. All her defences seemed to go +down before it. + +Her lip suddenly quivered, and she turned her face aside. +"Be--kind to me, Burke!" she said, under her breath. + +He let her go; but he stood motionless for some seconds after as if +debating some point with himself. She went to the window and +nervously straightened the curtain. After a considerable pause his +voice came to her there. + +"I want you to rest this afternoon, and ride over with me to the +Merstons after tea. Will you do that?" + +She turned sharply. "And leave Guy? Oh, no!" + +Across the room she met his look, and she saw that he meant to have +his way. "I wish it," he said. + +She came slowly back to him. "Burke,--please! I can't do that. +It wouldn't be right. We can't leave Guy to the Kaffirs." + +"Guy can look after himself," he reiterated. "You have done +enough--too much--in that line already. He doesn't need you with +him all daylong." + +She shook her head. "I think he needs--someone. It wouldn't be +right--I know it wouldn't be right to leave him quite alone. +Besides, the Merstons won't want me. Why should I go?" + +"Because I wish it," he said again. And, after a moment, as she +stood silent, "Doesn't that count with you?" + +She looked up at him quickly, caught by something in his tone, "Of +course your wishes count with me!" she said. "You know they do. +But all the same--" She paused, searching for words. + +"Guy comes first," he suggested, in the casual voice of one stating +an acknowledged fact. + +She felt the hot colour rise to her temples. "Oh, it isn't fair of +you to say that!" she said. + +"Isn't it true?" said Burke. + +She collected herself to answer him. "It is only because his need +has been so great. If we had not put him first--before everything +else--we should never have saved him." + +"And now that he is saved," Burke said, a faint ring of irony in +his voice, "isn't it almost time to begin to consider--other needs? +Do you know you are looking very ill?" + +He asked the question abruptly, so abruptly that she started. Her +nerves were on edge that day. + +"Am I? No, I didn't know. It isn't serious anyway. Please don't +bother about that!" + +He smiled faintly. "I've got to bother. If you don't improve very +quickly, I shall take you to Brennerstadt to see a decent doctor +there." + +"Oh, don't be absurd!" she said, with quick annoyance. "I'm not +going to do anything so silly." + +He put his hand on her arm. "Sylvia, I've got something to say to +you," he said. + +She made a slight movement as if his touch were unwelcome. "Well? +What is it?" she said. + +"Only this." He spoke very steadily, but while he spoke his hand +closed upon her. You've gone your own way so far, and it hasn't +been specially good for you. That's why I'm going to pull you up +now, and make you go mine." + +"Make me!" Her eyes flashed sudden fire upon him. She was +overwrought and weary, and he had taken her by surprise, or she +would have dealt with the situation--and with him--far otherwise. +"Make me!" she repeated, and in second, almost before she knew it, +she was up in arms, facing him with open rebellion. "I'll defy you +to do that!" she said. + +The moment she had said it, the word still scarcely uttered, she +repented. She had not meant to defy him. The whole thing had come +about so swiftly, so unexpectedly, hardly, she felt, of her own +volition. And now, more than half against her will, she stood +committed to carry through an undertaking for which even at the +outset, she had no heart. For there was no turning back. The +challenge, once uttered, could not be withdrawn. She was no +coward. The idea came to her that if she blenched then she would +for all time forfeit his respect as well as her own. + +So she stood her ground, slim and upright, braced to defiance, +though at the back of all her bravery there lurked a sickening fear. + +Burke did not speak at once. His look scarcely altered, his hold +upon her remained perfectly steady and temperate. Yet in the pause +the beating of her heart rose between them--a hard, insistent +throbbing like the fleeing feet of a hunted thing. + +"You really mean that?" he asked at length. + +"Yes." Straight and unhesitating came her answer. It was now or +never, she told herself. But she was trembling, despite her utmost +effort. + +He bent a little, looking into her eyes. "You really wish me to +show you who is master?" he said. + +She met his look, but her heart was beating wildly, spasmodically. +There was that about him, a ruthlessness, a deadly intention, that +appalled her. The ground seemed to be rocking under her feet, and +a dreadful consciousness of sheer, physical weakness rushed upon +her. She went back against the table, seeking for support. + +But through it all, desperately she made her gallant struggle for +freedom. "You will never master me against my will," she said. +"I--I--I'll die first!" + +And then, as the last shred of her strength went from her she +covered her face with her hands, shutting him out. + +"Ah!" he said. "But who goes into battle without first counting +the cost?" + +He spoke sombrely, without anger; yet in the very utterance of the +words there was that which made her realize that she was beaten. +Whether he chose to avail himself of the advantage or not, the +victory was his. + +At the end of a long silence, she lifted her head. "I give you +best, partner," she said, and held out her hand to him with a +difficult smile. "I'd no right--to kick over the traces--like +that. I'm going to be good now--really." + +It was a frank acceptance of defeat; so frank as to be utterly +disarming. He took the proffered hand and held it closely, without +speaking. + +She was still trembling a little, but she had regained her +self-command. "I'm sorry I was such a little beast," she said. +"But you've got me beat. I'll try and make good somehow." + +He found his voice at that. It came with an odd harshness. +"Don't!" he said. "Don't!--You're not--beat. The battle isn't +always to the strong." + +She laughed faintly with more assurance, though still somewhat +shakily. "Not when the strong are too generous to take advantage, +perhaps. Thank you for that, partner. Now--do you mind if I take +Guy his nourishment?" + +She put the matter behind her with that inimitable lightness of +hers which of late she had seemed to have lost. She went from him +to wait upon Guy with the tremulous laugh upon her lips, and when +she returned she had fully recovered her self-control, and talked +with him upon many matters connected with the farm which he had not +heard her mention during all the period of her nursing. She +displayed all her old zest. She spoke as one keenly interested. +But behind it all was a feverish unrest, a nameless, intangible +quality that had never characterized her in former days. She was +elusive. Her old delicate confidence in him was absent. She +walked warily where once she had trodden without the faintest +hesitation. + +When the meal was over, she checked him as he was on the point of +going to Guy. "How soon ought we to start for the Merstons?" she +asked. + +He paused a moment. Then, "I will let you off to-day," he said. +"We will ride out to the _kopje_ instead." + +He thought she would hail this concession with relief, but she +shook her head instantly, her face deeply flushed. + +"No, I think not! We will go to the Merstons--if Guy is well +enough. We really ought to go." + +She baffled him completely. He turned away. "As you will," he +said. "We ought to start in two hours." + +"I shall be ready," said Sylvia. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE SEED + +"Well!" said Mrs. Merston, with her thin smile. "Are you still +enjoying the Garden of Eden, Mrs. Ranger?" + +Sylvia, white and tired after her ride, tried to smile in answer +and failed. "I shall be glad when the winter is over," she said. + +Mrs. Merston's colourless eyes narrowed a little, taking her in. +"You don't look so blooming as you did," she remarked. "I hear you +have had Guy Ranger on your hands." + +"Yes," Sylvia said, and coloured a little in spite of herself. + +"What has been the matter with him?" demanded Mrs. Merston. + +Sylvia hesitated, and in a moment the older woman broke into a +grating laugh. + +"Oh, you needn't trouble to dress it up in polite language. I know +the malady he suffers from. But I wonder Burke would allow you to +have anything to do with it. He has a reputation for being rather +particular." + +"He is particular," Sylvia said. + +Somehow she could not bring herself to tell Mrs. Merston the actual +cause of Guy's illness. She did not want to talk of it. But Mrs. +Merston was difficult to silence. + +"Is it true that that scoundrel Kieff has been staying at Blue Hill +Farm?" she asked next, still closely observant of her visitor's +face. + +Sylvia looked at her with a touch of animation. "I wonder why +everyone calls him that," she said. "Yes, he has been with us. He +is a doctor, a very clever one. I never liked him very much, but I +often wondered what he had done to be called that." + +"Oh, I only know what they say," said Mrs. Merston. "I imagine he +was in a large measure responsible for young Ranger's fall from +virtue in the first place--and that of a good many besides. He's +something of a vampire, so they say. There are plenty of them +about in this charming country." + +"How horrible!" murmured Sylvia, with a slight shudder as a vision +of the motionless, onyx eyes which had so often watched her rose in +her mind. + +"You're looking quite worn out," remarked Mrs. Merston. "Why did +you let your husband drag you over here? You had better stay the +night and have a rest." + +But Sylvia hastened to decline this invitation with much decision. +"I couldn't possibly do that, thank you. There is so much to be +seen to at home. It is very kind of you, but please don't suggest +it to Burke!" + +Mrs. Merston gave her an odd look. "Do you always do as your +husband tells you!" she said. "What a mistake!" + +Sylvia blushed very deeply. "I think--one ought," she said in a +low voice. + +"How old-fashioned of you!" said Mrs. Merston. "I don't indulge +mine to that extent. Are you going to Brennerstadt for the races +next month? Or has the oracle decreed that you are to stay behind?" + +"I don't know. I didn't know there were any." Sylvia looked out +through the mauve-coloured twilight to where Burke stood talking +with Merston by one of the hideous corrugated iron cattle-sheds. +The Merstons' farm certainly did not compare favourably with +Burke's. She could not actively condemn Mrs. Merston's obvious +distaste for all that life held for her. So far as she could see, +there was not a tree on the place, only the horrible prickly pear +bushes thrusting out their distorted arms as if exulting in their +own nakedness. + +They had had their tea in front of the bungalow, if it could be +dignified by such a name. It was certainly scarcely more than an +iron shed, and the heat within during the day was, she could well +imagine, almost unbearable. It was time to be starting back, and +she wished Burke would come. Her hostess's scoffing reference to +him made her long to get away. Politeness, however, forbade her +summarily to drop the subject just started. + +"Do you go to Brennerstadt for the races?" she asked. + +"I?" said Mrs. Merston, and laughed again her caustic, mirthless +laugh. "No! My acquaintance with Brennerstadt is of a less +amusing nature. When I go there, I merely go to be ill, and as +soon as I am partially recovered, I come back--to this." There was +inexpressible bitterness in her voice. "Some day," she said, '"I +shall go there to die. That is all I have to look forward to now." + +"Oh, don't!" Sylvia said, with quick feeling. "Don't, please! You +shouldn't feel like that." + +Mrs. Merston's face was twisted in a painful smile. She looked +into the girl's face with a kind of cynical pity. "You will come +to it," she said. "Life isn't what it was to you even now. You're +beginning to feel the thorns under the rose-leaves. Of course you +may be lucky. You may bear children, and that will be your +salvation. But if you don't--if you don't----" + +"Please!" whispered Sylvia. "Please don't say that to me!" + +The words were almost inarticulate. She got up as she uttered them +and moved away. Mrs. Merston looked after her, and very strangely +her face altered. Something of that mother-love in her which had +so long been cheated showed in her lustreless eyes. + +"Oh, poor child!" she said. "I am sorry." + +It was briefly spoken. She was ever brief in her rare moments of +emotion. But there was a throb of feeling in the words that +reached Sylvia. She turned impulsively back again. + +"Thank you," she said, and there were tears in her eyes as she +spoke. "I think perhaps--" her utterance came with an effort "--my +life is--in its way--almost as difficult as yours. That ought to +make us comrades, oughtn't it? If ever there is anything I can do +to help you, please tell me!" + +"Let it be a mutual understanding!" said Mrs. Merston, and to +Sylvia's surprise she took and pressed her hand for a moment. + +There was more comfort in that simple pressure than Sylvia could +have believed possible. She returned it with that quick warmth of +hers which never failed to respond to kindness, and in that second +the seed of friendship was sown upon fruitful ground. + +The moment passed, sped by Mrs. Merston who seemed half-afraid of +her own action. + +"You must get your husband to take you to Brennerstadt for the +races," she said. "It would make a change for you. It's a shame +for a girl of your age to be buried in the wilderness." + +"I really haven't begun to be dull yet," Sylvia said. + +"No, perhaps not. But you'll get nervy and unhappy. You've been +used to society, and it isn't good for you to go without it +entirely. Look at me!" said Mrs. Merston, with her short laugh. +"And take warning!" + +The two men were sauntering towards them, and they moved to meet +them. Far down in the east an almost unbelievably huge moon hung +like a brazen shield. The mauve of the sunset had faded to pearl. + +"It is rather a beautiful world, isn't it?" Sylvia said a little +wistfully. + +"To the favoured few--yes," said Mrs. Merston. + +Sylvia gave her a quick glance. "I read somewhere--I don't know if +it's true--that we are all given the ingredients of happiness, but +the mixing is left to ourselves. Perhaps you and I haven't found +the right mixture yet." + +"Ah!" said Mrs. Merston. "Perhaps not." + +"I'm going to have another try," said Sylvia, with sudden energy. + +"I wish you luck," said Mrs. Merston somewhat grimly. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +MIRAGE + +From the day of her visit to the Merstons Sylvia took up her old +life again, and pursued all her old vocations with a vigour that +seemed even more enthusiastic than of yore. Her ministrations to +Guy had ceased to be of an arduous character, or indeed to occupy +much of her time. It was mainly Burke who filled Kieff's place and +looked after Guy generally with a quiet efficiency that never +encouraged any indulgence. They seemed to be good friends, yet +Sylvia often wondered with a dull ache at the heart if this were +any more than seeming. There was so slight a show of intimacy +between them, so little of that camaraderie generally so noticeable +between dwellers in the wilderness. Sometimes she fancied she +caught a mocking light in Guy's eyes when they looked at Burke. He +was always perfectly docile under his management, but was he always +genuine? She could not tell. His recovery amazed her. He seemed +to possess an almost boundless store of vitality. He cast his +weakness from him with careless jesting, laughing down all her +fears. She knew well that he was not so strong as he would have +had her believe, that he fought down his demon of suffering in +solitude, that often he paid heavily for deeds of recklessness. +But the fact remained that he had come back from the gates of +death, and each day she marvelled anew. + +She and Burke seldom spoke of him when together. That intangible +reserve that had grown up between them seemed to make it +impossible. She had no longer the faintest idea as to Burke's +opinion of the returned prodigal, whether he still entertained his +previous conviction that Guy was beyond help, or whether he had +begun at length to have any confidence for the future. In a vague +fashion his reticence hurt her, but she could not bring herself to +attempt to break through it. He was a man perpetually watching for +something, and it made her uneasy and doubtful, though for what he +watched she had no notion. For it was upon herself rather than +upon Guy that his attention seemed to be concentrated. His +attitude puzzled her. She felt curiously like a prisoner, though +to neither word, nor look, nor deed could she ascribe the feeling. +She was even at times disposed to put it down to the effect of the +weather upon her physically. It did undoubtedly try her very +severely. Though the exercise that she compelled herself to take +had restored to her the power to sleep, she always felt as weary +when she arose as when she lay down. The heat and the drought +combined to wear her out. Valiantly though she struggled to rally +her flagging energies, the effort became increasingly difficult. +She lived in the depths of a great depression, against which, +strive as she might, she ever strove in vain. She was furious with +herself for her failure, but it pursued her relentlessly. She +found the Kaffir servants more than usually idle and difficult to +deal with, and this added yet further to the burden that weighed +her down. + +One day, returning from a ride to find Fair Rosamond swabbing the +floor of the _stoep_ with her bath-sponge, she lost her temper +completely and wholly unexpectedly, and cut the girl across her +naked shoulders with her riding-switch. It was done in a moment--a +single, desperate moment of unbearable exasperation. Rosamond +screamed and fled, upsetting her pail inadvertently over her +mistress's feet as she went. And Sylvia, with a burning sense of +shame for her violence, retreated as precipitately to her own room. + +She entered by the window, and, not even noticing that the door +into the sitting-room stood ajar, flung herself down by the table +in a convulsion of tears. She hated herself for her action, she +hated Rosamond for having been the cause of it. She hated the +blazing sky and the parched earth, the barren _veldt_, the +imprisoning _kopjes_, the hopeless sense of oppression, of being +always somehow in the wrong. A wild longing to escape was upon +her, to go anywhere--anywhere, so long as she could get right away +from that intolerable weight of misgiving, doubt, dissatisfaction, +foreboding, that hung like a galling chain upon her. + +She was getting like Mrs. Merston, she told herself passionately. +Already her youth had gone, and all that made life worth living was +going with it. She had made her desperate bid for happiness, and +she had lost. And Burke--Burke was only watching for her hour of +weakness to make himself even more completely her master than he +was already. Had he not only that morning--only that +morning--gruffly ordered her back from a distant cattle-run that +she had desired to inspect? Was he not always asserting his +authority in some fashion over her, crumbling away her resistance +piece by piece till at last he could stride in all-conquering and +take possession? He was always so strong, so horribly strong, so +sure of himself. And though it had pleased him to be generous in +his dealings with her, she had seen far less of that generosity +since Guy's recovery. They were partners no longer, she told +herself bitterly. That farce was ended. Perhaps it was her own +fault. Everything seemed to be her fault nowadays. She had not +played her cards well during Guy's illness. Somehow she had not +felt a free agent. It was Kieff who had played the cards, had +involved her in such difficulties as she had never before +encountered, and then had left her perforce to extricate herself +alone; to extricate herself--or to pay the price. She seemed to +have been struggling against overwhelming odds ever since. She had +fought with all her strength to win back to the old freedom, but +she had failed. And in that dark hour she told herself that +freedom was not for her. She was destined to be a slave for the +rest of her life. + +The wild paroxysm of crying could not last. Already she was +beginning to be ashamed of her weakness. And ere long she would +have to face Burke. The thought of that steady, probing look made +her shrink in every fibre. Was there anything that those shrewd +eyes did not see? + +What was that? She started at a sound. Surely he had not returned +so soon! + +For a second there was something very like panic at her heart. +Then, bracing herself, she lifted her head, and saw Guy. + +He had entered by the sitting-room door and in his slippers she had +not heard him till he was close to her. He was already bending +over her when she realized his presence. + +She put up a quick hand. "Oh, Guy!" she said with a gasp. + +He caught and held it in swift response. "My own girl!" he said. +"I heard you crying. I was in my room dressing. What's it all +about?" + +She could not tell him, the anguish was still too near. She bowed +her head and sat in throbbing silence. + +"Look here!" said Guy. "Don't!" He stooped lower over her, his +dark face twitching. "Don't!" he said again. "Life isn't worth +it. Life's too short. Be happy, dear! Be happy!" + +He spoke a few words softly against her hair. There was entreaty +in their utterance. It was as if he pleaded for his own self. + +She made a little movement as if something had pierced her, and in +a moment she found her voice. + +"Life is so--difficult," she said, with a sob. + +"You take it too hard," he answered rapidly. "You think too much +of--little things. It isn't the way to be happy. What you ought +to do is to grab the big things while you can, and chuck the little +ones into the gutter. Life's nothing but a farce. It isn't meant +to be taken--really seriously. It isn't long enough for sacrifice. +I tell you, it isn't long enough!" + +There was something passionate in the reiterated declaration. The +clasp of his hand was feverish. That strange vitality of his that +had made him defy the death he had courted seemed to vibrate within +him like a stretched wire. His attitude was tense with it. And a +curious thrill went through her, as though there were electricity +in his touch. + +She could not argue the matter with him though every instinct told +her he was wrong. She was too overwrought to see things with an +impartial eye. She felt too tired greatly to care. + +"I feel," she told him drearily, "as if I want to get away from +everything and everybody." + +"Oh no, you don't!" he said. "All you want is to get away from +Burke. That's your trouble--and always will be under present +conditions. Do you think I haven't looked on long enough? Why +don't you go away?" + +"Go away!" She looked up at him again, startled. + +Guy's sunken eyes were shining with a fierce intensity. They urged +her more poignantly than words. "Don't you see what's going to +happen--if you don't?" he said. + +That moved her. She sprang up with a sound that was almost a cry, +and stood facing him, her hand hard pressed against her heart. + +"Of course I know he's a wonderful chap and all that," Guy went on. +"But you haven't cheated yourself yet into believing that you care +for him, have you? He isn't the sort to attract any woman at first +sight, and I'll wager he has never made love to you. He's far too +busy with his cattle and his crops. What on earth did you marry +him for? Can't you see that he makes a slave of everyone who comes +near him?" + +But she lifted her head proudly at that. "He has never made a +slave of me," she said. + +"He will," Guy rejoined relentlessly. "He'll have you under his +heel before many weeks. You know it in your heart. Why did you +marry him, Sylvia? Tell me why you married him!" + +The insistence of the question compelled an answer. Yet she +paused, for it was a question she had never asked herself. Why had +she married Burke indeed? Had it been out of sheer expediency? Or +had there been some deeper and more subtle reason? She knew full +well that there was probably not another man in Africa to whom she +would have thus entrusted herself, however urgent the +circumstances. How was it then that she had accepted Burke? + +And then, looking into Guy's tense face, the answer came to her, +and she had uttered it almost before she knew. "I married him +because he was so like you." + +The moment she had uttered the words she would have recalled them, +for Guy made an abrupt movement and turned so white that she +thought he would faint. His eyes went beyond her with a strained, +glassy look, and for seconds he stood so, as one gone suddenly +blind. + +Then with a jerk he pulled himself together, and gave her an odd +smile that somehow cut her to the heart. + +"That was a straight hit anyway," he said. "And are you going to +stick to him for the same reason?" + +She turned her face away with the feeling of one who dreads to look +upon some grievous hurt. "No," she said, in a low voice. "Only +because--I am his wife." + +Guy made a short, contemptuous sound. "And for that you're going +to let him ride rough-shod over you--give him the right to control +your every movement? Oh, forgive me, but you good people hold such +ghastly ideas of right and wrong. And what on earth do you gain by +it all? You sacrifice everything to the future, and the future is +all mirage--all mirage. You'll never get there, never as long as +you live." + +Again that quick note of passion was in his voice, and she tingled +at the sound, for though she knew so well that he was wrong +something that was quick and passionate within her made instinctive +response. She understood him. Had she not always understood him? + +She did not answer him. She had given him her answer. And he, +realizing this turned aside to open the window. Yet, for a moment +he stood looking back at her, and all her life she was to remember +the love and the longing of his eyes. It was as if for that second +a veil had been rent aside, and he had shown her his naked soul. + +She wondered afterwards if he had really meant her to see. For +immediately, as he went out, he broke into a careless whistle, and +then, an instant later, she heard him fling a greeting to someone +out in the blinding sunshine. + +An answer came back from much nearer than she had anticipated. It +was in the guttural tones of Hans Schafen the overseer, and with a +jerk she remembered that the man always sat on the corner of the +_stoep_ to await Burke if he arrived before their return from the +lands. It was his custom to wear rubber soles to his boots, and no +one ever heard him come or go. For some reason this fact had +always prejudiced her against Hans Schafen. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +EVERYBODY'S FRIEND + +When Burke came in to lunch half an hour later, he found Sylvia +alone in the sitting-room, laying the cloth. + +She glanced up somewhat nervously at his entrance. "I've +frightened Rosamond away," she said. + +"Little cuss! Good thing too!" he said. She proceeded rapidly +with her occupation. + +"I believe there's a sand-storm coming," she said, after a moment. + +"Yes, confound it!"' said Burke. + +He went to the window and stood gazing out with drawn brows. + +With an effort she broke the silence. "What has Schafen to report? +Is all well?" + +He wheeled round abruptly and stood looking at her. For a few +seconds he said nothing whatever, then as with a startled sense of +uncertainty she turned towards him he spoke. "Schafen? Yes, he +reported--several things. The dam over by Ritter Spruit is dried +up for one thing. The animals will all have to driven down here. +Then there have been several bad _veldt_-fires over to the north. +It isn't only sand that's coming along. It's cinders too. We've +got to take steps to protect the fodder, or we're done. It's just +the way of this country. A single night may bring ruin." + +He spoke with such unwonted bitterness that Sylvia was aroused out +of her own depression. She had never known him take so pessimistic +a view before. With an impulsiveness that was warm and very +womanly, she left her task and went to him. + +"Oh, Burke!" she said. "But the worst doesn't happen, does it? +Anyway not often!" + +He made an odd sound that was like a laugh choked at birth. "Not +often," he agreed. And then abruptly, straightening himself, +"Suppose it did,--what then?" + +"What then?" She looked at him for a moment, still feeling +curiously unsure of her ground. "Well, we'd weather it somehow, +partner," she said, and held out her hand to him with a little +quivering smile. + +He made no movement to take her hand. Perhaps he had already heard +what a few seconds later reached her own ears,--the sound of Guy's +feet upon the _stoep_ outside the window. But during those seconds +his eyes dwelt upon her, holding her own with a fixed intentness +that somehow made her feel cold. It was an unspeakable relief to +her when he turned them from her, as it were setting her free. + +Guy came in with something of his old free swing, and closed the +window behind him. "Better to stew than to eat sand," he remarked. +"I've just heard from one of the Kaffirs that Piet Vreiboom's land +is on fire." + +"What?" said Burke sharply. + +"It's all right at present," said Guy. "We can bear it with +equanimity. The wind is the other way." + +"The wind may change," said Burke. + +"That wouldn't be like your luck," remarked Guy, as he seated +himself. + +They partook of the meal almost in silence. To Sylvia the very air +was laden with foreboding. Everything they ate was finely powered +with sand, but she alone was apparently aware of the fact. The +heat inside the bungalow was intense. Outside a fierce wind had +begun to blow, and the sky was dark. + +At the end of a very few minutes Burke arose. Guy sprang instantly +to his feet. + +"Are you off? I'm coming!" + +"No--no," Burke said shortly. "Stay where you are!" + +"I tell you I'm coming," said Guy, pushing aside his chair. + +Burke, already ac the door, paused and looked at him. "Better +not," he said. "You're not up to it--and this infernal sand----" + +"Damn the sand!" said Guy, with vehemence. "I'm coming!" + +He reached Burke with the words. His hand sought the door. Burke +swallowed the rest of his remonstrance. + +"Please yourself!" he said, with a shadowy smile; and then for a +moment his eyes went to Sylvia. "You will stay in this afternoon," +he said. + +It was a definite command, and she had no thought of defying it. +But the tone in which it was uttered hurt her. + +"I suppose I shall do as I am told," she said, in a low voice. + +He let Guy go and returned to her. He bent swiftly down over her +and dropped a small key into her lap. "I leave you in charge of +all that I possess," he said. "Good-bye!" + +She looked up at him quickly. "Burke!" she stammered. Burke! +There is no--danger?" + +"Probably not of the sort you mean," he answered. And then +suddenly his arms were round her. He held her close and hard. For +a second she felt the strong beat of his heart, and then forgot it +in an overwhelming rush of emotion that so possessed her as almost +to deprive her of her senses. For he kissed her--he kissed +her--and his kiss was as the branding of a hot iron. It seemed to +burn her to the soul. + +The next moment she was free; the door closed behind him, and she +was alone. She sank down over the table, quivering all over. Her +pulses were racing, her nerves in a wild tumult. She believed that +the memory of that scorching kiss would tingle upon her lips for +ever. It was as if an electric current had suddenly entered her +inner-most being and now ran riot in every vein. And so wild was +the tumult within her that she knew not whether dread or dismay or +a frantic, surging, leaping thing that seemed to cry aloud for +liberty were first in that mad race. She clasped her hands very +tightly over her face, struggling to master those inner forces that +fought within her. Never in her life had so fierce a conflict torn +her. Soul and body, she seemed to be striving with an adversary +who pierced her at every turn. He had kissed her thus; and in that +unutterable moment he had opened her eyes, confronting her with an +amazing truth from which she could not turn aside. Passion and a +fierce and terrible jealousy had mingled in his kiss, anger also, +and a menacing resentment that seemed to encompass her like a fiery +ring, hedging her round. + +But not love! There had been no love in his kiss. It had been an +outrage of love, and it had wounded her to the heart. It had made +her want to hide--to hide--till the first poignancy of the pain +should be past. And yet--and yet--in all her anguish she knew that +the way which Guy had so recklessly suggested was no way of escape +for her. To flee from him was to court disaster--such disaster as +would for ever wreck her chance of happiness. It could but confirm +the evil doubt he harboured and might lead to such a catastrophe as +she would not even contemplate. + +But yet some way of escape there must be, and desperately she +sought it, striving in defence of that nameless thing that had +sprung to such wild life within her under the burning pressure of +his lips, that strange and untamed force that she could neither +bind nor subdue, but which to suffer him to behold meant sacrilege +to her shrinking soul--such sacrilege as she believed she could +never face and live. + +Gradually the turmoil subsided, but it left her weak, inert, +impotent. The impulse to pray came to her, but the prayer that +went up from her trembling heart was voiceless and wordless. She +had no means of expression in which to cloak her utter need. Only +the stark helplessness of her whole being cried dumbly for +deliverance. + +A long time passed. The bungalow was silent and empty. She was +quite alone. She could hear the rising rush of the wind across the +_veldt_, and it sounded to her like a thing hunted and fleeing. +The sand of the desert whipped against the windows, and the gloom +increased. She was not naturally nervous, but a sense of fear +oppressed her. She had that fateful feeling, which sometimes comes +even in the sunshine, of something about to happen, of turning a +sharp corner in the road of life that must change the whole outlook +and trend of existence. She was afraid to look forward. For the +first time life had become terrible to her. + +She roused herself to action at last and got up from the table. +Something fell on the ground as she did so. It was the key that +Burke had given into her care. She knew it for the key of his +strong-box in which he kept his money and papers. His journeys to +Brennerstadt were never frequent, and she knew that he usually kept +a considerable sum by him. The box was kept on the floor of the +cupboard in the wall of the room which Guy now occupied. It was +very heavy, so heavy that Burke himself never lifted it, seldom +moved it from its place, but opened and closed it as it stood. She +wondered as she groped for the key why he had given it to her. +That action of his pointed to but one conclusion. He expected to +be going into danger. He would not have parted with it otherwise. +Of that she was certain. He and Guy were both going into danger +then, and she was left in utter solitude to endure her suspense as +best she could. + +She searched in vain for the key. It was small and made to fit a +patent lock. The darkness of the room baffled her search, and at +last she abandoned it and went to the pantry for a lamp. The +Kaffirs had gone to their huts. She found the lamp empty and +untrimmed in a corner, with two others in the same condition. The +oil was kept in an outbuilding some distance from the bungalow, and +there was none in hand. She diverted her search to candles, but +these also were hard to find. She spent several minutes there in +the darkness with the wind howling weirdly around like a lost thing +seeking shelter, and the sand beating against the little window +with a persistent rattle that worried her nerves with a strange +bewilderment. + +Eventually she found an empty candlestick, and after prolonged +search an end of candle. Sand was everywhere. It ground under her +feet, and made gritty everything she touched. Was it fancy that +brought to her the smell of burning, recalling Burke's words? She +found herself shivering violently as she went to her own room for +matches. + +It was while she was here that there came to her above the roar of +the wind a sudden sound that made her start and listen. Someone +was knocking violently, almost battering, at the door that led into +the passage. + +Her heart gave a wild leap within her. Somehow--she knew not +wherefore--her thoughts went to Kieff. She had a curiously strong +feeling that he was, if not actually at the door, not far away. +Then, even while she stood with caught breath listening, the door +burst open and a blast of wind and sand came hurling into the +house. It banged shut again instantly, and there followed a +tramping of feet as if a herd of cattle had entered. Then there +came a voice. + +"Damnation!" it said, with vigour. "Damnation! It's a hell of a +country, and myself was the benighted fool ever to come near it at +all. Whist to it now! Anyone would think the devil himself was +trying for admittance." + +Very strangely that voice reassured Sylvia though she had never +heard it before in her life. It did more; it sent such a rush of +relief through her that she nearly laughed aloud. + +She groped her way out into the passage, feeling as if a great +weight had been lifted from her. "Come in, whoever you are!" she +said. "It is rather infernal certainly. I'll light a candle in a +moment--as soon as I can find some matches." + +She saw a dim, broad figure standing in front of her and heard a +long, soft whistle of dismay. + +"I beg your pardon, madam," said the voice that had spoken such +hearty invective a few seconds before. "Sure, I had no idea I was +overheard. And I hope that I'll not have prejudiced you at all +with the violence of me language. But it's in the air of the +country, so to speak. And we all come to it in time. If it's a +match that you're wanting, I've got one in my pocket this minute +which I'll hand over with all the good will in the world if you'll +do me the favour to wait." + +Sylvia waited. She knew the sort of face that went with that +voice, and it did not surprise her when the red Irish visage and +sandy brows beamed upon her above the flickering candle. The laugh +she had repressed a moment before rose to her lips. There was +something so comic in this man's appearance just when she had been +strung up for tragedy. + +He looked at her with the eyes of a child, smiling good-humouredly +at her mirth. "Sure, you're putting the joke on me," he said. +"They all do it. Where can I have strayed to? Is this a fairy +palace suddenly sprung up in the desert, and you the Queen of No +Man's Land come down from your mountain-top to give me shelter?" + +She shook her head, still laughing, "No, I've never been to the +mountain-top. I'm only a farmer's wife." + +"A farmer's wife!" He regarded her with quizzical curiosity for a +space. "Is it Burke's bride that you are?" he questioned. "And is +it Burke Ranger's farm that I've blundered into after all?" + +"I am Burke Ranger's wife," she told him. "But I left off being a +bride a long time ago. We are all too busy out here to keep up +sentimental nonsense of that sort." + +"And isn't it the cynic that ye are entirely?" rejoined the +visitor, broadly grinning. "Sure, it's time I introduced myself to +the lady of the house. I'm Donovan Kelly, late of His Majesty's +Imperial Yeomanry, and at present engaged in the peaceful avocation +of mining for diamonds under the rubbish-heaps of Brennerstadt." + +Sylvia held out her hand. There could be no standing upon ceremony +with this man. She hailed him instinctively as a friend. There +are some men in the world whom no woman can regard in any other +light. + +"I am very pleased to meet you," she said, with simplicity. "And I +know Burke will be glad too that you have managed to make your way +over here. You haven't chosen a very nice day for your visit. +What a ghastly ride you must have had! What about your horse?" + +"Sure, I'd given myself up for lost entirely," laughed Kelly. "And +I said to St. Peter--that's my horse and the best animal bred out +of Ireland--'Pete,' I said to him, 'it's a hell of a country and no +place for ye at all. But if ye put your back into it, Pete, and +get us out of this infernal sandpit, I'll give ye such a draught of +ale as'll make ye dance on your head with delight.' He's got a +taste for the liquor, has Pete. I've put him in a cowshed I found +round the corner, and, faith, he fair laughed to be out of the +blast. He's a very human creature, Mrs. Ranger, with the soul of a +Christian, only a bit saintlier." + +"I shall have to make his acquaintance," said Sylvia. "Now come in +and have some refreshment! I am sure you must need it." + +"And that's a true word," said Kelly, following her into the +sitting-room. "My throat feels as if it were lined with +sand-paper." + +She rapidly cleared a place for him at the table, and ministered to +his wants. His presence was so large and comforting that her own +doubts and fears had sunk into the background. For a time, +listening to his artless talk, she was scarcely aware of them, and +she was thankful for the diversion. It had been a terrible +afternoon. + +He began to make enquiries regarding Burke's absence at length, and +then she told him about the _veldt_-fires, and the menace to the +land. His distress returned somewhat as she did so, and he was +quick to perceive the anxiety she sought to hide. + +"Now don't you worry--don't you worry!" he said. "Burke wasn't +made to go under. He's one in a million. He's the sort that'll +win to the very top of the world. And why? Because he's sound." + +"Ah!" Sylvia said. Somehow that phrase at such a moment sent an +odd little pang through her. Would Burke indeed win to the top of +the world, she wondered? It seemed so remote to her now--that +palace of dreams which they had planned to share together. Did he +ever think of it now? She wondered--she wondered! + +"Don't you worry!" Kelly said again. "There's nothing in life more +futile. Is young Guy still here, by the way? Has he gone out +scotching _veldt_-fires too?" + +She started and coloured. How much did he know about Guy? How +much would it be wise to impart? + +Perhaps he saw her embarrassment, for he hastened to enlighten her. +"I know all about young Guy. Nobody's enemy but his own. I helped +Burke dig him out of Hoffstein's several weeks back, and a tough +job it was. How has he behaved himself lately? Been on the bust +at all?" + +Sylvia hesitated. She knew this man for a friend, and she trusted +him without knowing why; but she could not speak with freedom to +anyone of Guy and his sins. + +But again the Irishman saw and closed the breach. His shrewd eyes +smiled kindly comprehension. "Ah, but he's a difficult youngster," +he said. "Maybe he'll mend his ways as he gets older. We do +sometimes, Mrs. Ranger. Anyhow, with all his faults he's got the +heart of a gentleman. I've known him do things--decent +things--that only a gentleman would have thought of doing. I've +punched his head for him before now, but I've always liked young +Guy. It's the same with Burke. You can't help liking the fellow." + +"I don't think Burke likes him," Sylvia said almost involuntarily. + +"Then, begging your pardon, you're wrong," said Kelly. "Burke +loves him like a brother. I know that all right. No, he'll never +say so. He's not the sort. But it's the truth, all the same. +He's about the biggest disappointment in Burke's life. He'd never +have left him to sink if he hadn't been afraid the boy would shoot +himself if he did anything else." + +"Ah!" Sylvia said again, with a sharp catch in her breath. "That +was what he was afraid of." + +"Sure, that was it," said Kelly cheerfully. "You'll generally find +that that good man of yours has a pretty decent reason for +everything he does. It isn't often he loses his head--or his +temper. He's a fine chap to be friendly with, but a divil to +cross." + +"Yes. I've heard that before," Sylvia said, with a valiant little +smile. "I should prefer to be friendly with him myself." + +"Ah, sure and you're right," said Kelly. "But is it yourself that +could be anything else? Why, he worships the very ground under +your feet. I saw that clear as daylight that time at Brennerstadt." + +She felt her heart quicken a little. "How--clever of you!" she +said. + +He nodded with beaming appreciation of the compliment. "You'll +find my conclusions are generally pretty near the mark," he said. +"It isn't difficult to know what's in the minds of the people +you're fond of. Now is it?" + +She stifled a sigh. "I don't know. I'm not very good at +thought-reading myself." + +He chuckled like a merry child. "Ah, then you come to me, Mrs. +Ranger!" he said. "I'll be proud to help ye any time." + +"I expect you help most people," she said. "You are everybody's +friend." + +"I do my best," said Donovan Kelly modestly. "And, faith, a very +pleasant occupation it is." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE HERO + +The wind went down somewhat at sunset and Sylvia realized with +relief that the worst was over. She sat listening for the return +of Burke and Guy while her companion chatted cheerfully of a +thousand things which might have interested her at any other time +but to which now she gave but fitful attention. + +He was in the midst of telling her about the draw for the great +diamond at Brennerstadt and how the tickets had been reduced from +monkeys to ponies because the monkeys were too shy, when there came +the sound for which she waited--a hand upon the window-catch and +the swirl of sand blown in by the draught as it opened. + +She was up in a moment, guarding the candle and looking out over it +with eager, half-dazzled eyes. For an instant her look met Burke's +as he stood in the aperture, then swiftly travelled to the man with +him. Guy, with a ghastly face that tried to smile, was hanging +upon him for support. + +Burke shut the window with decision and stood staring at Sylvia's +companion. + +Kelly at once proceeded with volubility to explain his presence. +"Ah, yes, it's meself in the flesh, Burke, and very pleased to see +ye. I've taken a holiday to come and do ye a good turn. And Mrs. +Ranger has been entertaining me like a prince in your absence. So +you've got young Guy with you! What's the matter with the boy?" + +"I'm all right," said Guy, and quitted his hold upon Burke as if to +demonstrate the fact. + +But Burke took him by the arm and led him to a chair. "You sit +down!" he commanded briefly. "Hullo, Donovan! Glad to see you! +Have you had a drink?" + +"Sure, I've had all that mortal man could desire and more to it," +declared Kelly. + +"Good," said Burke, and turned to Sylvia. "Get out the brandy, +will you?" + +She hastened to do his bidding. There was a blueness about Guy's +lips that frightened her, and she saw that his hands were clenched. + +Yet, as Burke bent over him a few moments later, he laughed with +something of challenge in, his eyes. "Ripping sport, old chap!" he +said, and drank with a feverish eagerness. + +Burke's hand was on his shoulder. She could not read his +expression, but she was aware of something unusual between them, +something that was wholly outside her experience. Then he spoke, +his voice very quiet and steady. + +"Go slow, man! You've had a bit of a knockout." + +Guy looked across at her, and there was triumph in his look. "It's +been--sport," he said again. "Ripping sport!" It was so boyishly +uttered, and his whole attitude was so reminiscent of the old days, +that she felt herself thrill in answer. She moved quickly to him. + +"What has been happening? Tell me!" she said. + +He laughed again. "My dear girl, we've been fighting the devil in +his own element, and we've beat him off the field." He sprang to +his feet. "Here, give me another drink, or I shall die! My throat +is a bed of live cinders." + +Burke intervened. "No--no! Go slow, I tell you! Go slow! Get +some tea, Sylvia! Where are those Kaffirs?" + +"They haven't been near all day," Sylvia said. "I frightened +Rosamond away this morning, and the others must have been afraid of +the storm." + +"I'll rout 'em out," said Kelly. + +"No. You stay here! I'll go." Burke turned to the door, but +paused as he opened it and looked back. "Sylvia!" he said. + +She went to him. He put his hand through her arm and drew her into +the passage. "Don't let Guy have any more to drink!" he said. +"Mind, I leave him to you." + +He spoke with urgency; she looked at him in surprise. + +"Yes, I mean it," he said. "You must prevent him somehow. I +can't--nor Kelly either. You probably can--for a time anyhow." + +"I'll do my best," she said. + +His hand closed upon her. "If you fail, he'll go under, I know the +signs. It's up to you to stop him. Go back and see to it!" + +He almost pushed her from him with the words, and it came to her +that for some reason Guy's welfare was uppermost with him just +then. He had never betrayed any anxiety on his account before, and +she wondered greatly at his attitude. But it was no time for +questioning. Mutely she obeyed him and went back. + +She found Guy in the act of filling a glass for Kelly. His own +stood empty at his elbow. She went forward quickly, and laid her +hand on his shoulder. "Guy, please!" she said, + +He looked at her, the bottle in his hand. In his eyes she saw +again that dreadful leaping flame which made her think of some +starved and desperate animal. "What is it?" he said. + +An overwhelming sense of her own futility came upon her. She felt +almost like a child standing there, attempting that of which Burke +had declared himself to be incapable. + +"What is it?" he said again. + +She braced herself for conflict. "Please," she said gently. "I +want you to wait and have some tea. It won't take long to get." +Then, as the fever of his eyes seemed to burn her: "Please, Guy! +Please!" + +Kelly put aside his own drink untouched. "There's no refusing such +a sweet appeal as that," he declared gallantly. "Guy, I move a +postponement. Tea first!" + +But Guy was as one who heard not. He was staring at Sylvia, and +the wild fire in his eyes was leaping higher, ever higher. In that +moment he saw her, and her alone. It was as if they two had +suddenly met in a place that none other might enter. His words of +the morning rushed back upon her--his passionate declaration that +life was not long enough for sacrifice--that the future to which +she looked was but a mirage which she would never reach. + +It all flashed through her brain in a few short seconds, vivid, +dazzling, overwhelming, and the memory of Kieff went with it--Kieff +and his cold, sinister assertion that she held Guy's destiny +between her hands. + +Then, very softly, Guy spoke. "To please--you?" he said. + +She answered him, but it was scarcely of her own volition. She was +as one driven--"Yes--yes!" + +He looked at her closely as if to make sure of her meaning. Then, +with a quick, reckless movement, he turned and set down the bottle +on the table. + +"That settles that," he said boyishly. "Go ahead, Kelly! Drink! +Don't mind me! I am--brandy-proof." + +And Sylvia, throbbing from head to foot, knew she had conquered, +knew she had saved him for a time at least from the threatening +evil. But there was that within her which shrank from the thought +of the victory. She had acted almost under compulsion, yet she +felt that she had used a weapon which would ultimately pierce them +both. + +She scarcely knew what passed during the interval that followed +before Burke's return. As in a dream she heard Kelly still talking +about the Brennerstadt diamond, and Guy was asking him questions +with a keenness of interest that seemed strange to her. She +herself was waiting and watching for Burke, dreading his coming, +yet in a fashion eager for it. For very curiously she had a +feeling that she needed him. For the first time she wanted to lean +upon his strength. + +But when at length he came, her dread of him was uppermost and she +felt she could not meet his look. It was with relief that she saw +Guy was still his first thought. He had fetched Joe from the +Kaffir huts, and the lamps were filled and lighted. He was +carrying one as he entered, and the light flung upwards on his face +showed it to her as the face of a strong man. + +He set the lamp on the table and went straight to Guy. "Look +here!" he said. "I'm going to put you to bed." + +Guy, with his arms on the table, looked up at him and laughed. +"Oh, rats! I'm all right. Can't you see I'm all right? Well, I +must have some tea first anyway. I've been promised tea." + +"I'll bring you your tea in bed," Burke said. + +But Guy protested. "No, really, old chap. I must sit up a bit +longer. I'll be very good. I want to hear all Kelly's news. I +believe I shall have to go back to Brennerstadt with him to paint +the town red. I'd like to have a shot at that diamond. You never +know your luck when the devil's on your side." + +"I know yours," said Burke drily. "And it's about as rotten as it +can be. You've put too great a strain on it all your life." + +Guy laughed again. He was in the wildest spirits. But suddenly in +the midst of his mirth he began to cough with a dry, harsh sound +like the rending of wood. He pushed his chair back from the table, +and bent himself double, seeming to grope upon the floor. It was +the most terrible paroxysm that Sylvia had ever witnessed, and she +thought it would never end. + +Several times he tried to straighten himself, but each effort +seemed to renew the anguish that tore him, and in the end he +subsided limply against Burke who supported him till at last the +convulsive choking ceased. + +He was completely exhausted by that time and offered no +remonstrance when Burke and Kelly between them bore him to the +former's room and laid him on the bed he had occupied for so long. +Burke administered brandy again; there was no help for it. And +then at Guy's whispered request he left him for a space to recover. + +He drew Sylvia out of the room, and Kelly followed. "I'll go back +to him later, and help him undress," he said. "But he will +probably get on better alone for the present." + +"What has been happening?" Sylvia asked him. "Tell me what has +been happening!" + +A fevered desire to know everything was upon her. She felt she +must know. + +Burke looked at her as if something in her eagerness struck him as +unusual. But he made no comment upon it. He merely with his +customary brevity proceeded to enlighten her. + +"We went to Vreiboom's, and had a pretty hot time. Kieff was there +too, by the way. The fire got a strong hold, and if the wind, had +held, we should probably have been driven out of it, and our own +land would have gone too. As it was," he paused momentarily, +"well, we have Guy to thank that it didn't." + +"Guy!" said Sylvia quickly. + +"Yes. He worked like a nigger--better. He's been among hot ashes +and that infernal sand for hours. I couldn't get him out. He did +the impossible." A curious tremor sounded in Burke's voice--"The +impossible!" he said again. + +"Sure, I always said there was grit in the boy," said Kelly. +"You'll be making a man of him yet, Burke. You'll have to have a +good try after this." + +Burke was silent. His eyes, bloodshot but keen, were upon Sylvia's +face. + +It was some moments before with an effort she lifted her own to +meet them. "So Guy is a hero!" she said, with a faint uncertain +smile. "I'm glad of that." + +"Let's drink to him," said Kelly, "now he isn't here to see! +Burke, fill up! Mrs. Ranger!" + +"No--no!" Sylvia said. "I am going to get the tea." + +Yet she paused beside Burke, as if compelled. "What else did he +do?" she said. "You haven't told us all." + +"Not quite all," said Burke, and still his eyes searched hers with +a probing intentness. + +"Don't you want to tell me?" she said. + +"Yes, I will tell you," he answered, "if you especially want to +hear. He saved my life." + +"Hooray!" yelled Kelly, in the voice of one holloaing to hounds. + +Sylvia said nothing for a moment. She had turned very pale. When +she spoke it was with an effort. "How?" + +He answered as if speaking to her alone. "One of Vreiboom's +tumble-down old sheds fired while we were trying to clear it. The +place collapsed and I got pinned inside. Piet Vreiboom didn't +trouble himself, or Kieff, either. He wouldn't--naturally. Guy +got me out." + +"Ah!" she said. It was scarcely more than an intake of the breath. +She could not utter another word, for that imprisoned thing within +her seemed to be clawing at her heart, choking her. If Burke had +died--if Burke had died! She turned herself quickly from the +searching of his eyes, lest he should see--and understand. She +could not--dared not--show him her soul just then. The memory of +his kiss--that single, fiery kiss that had opened her own +eyes--held her back. She went from him in silence. If Burke had +died! + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE NET + +It was not often that Sylvia lay awake, but that night her brain +was in a turmoil, and for long she courted sleep in vain. For some +time after she retired, the murmur of Burke's and Kelly's voices in +the adjoining room kept her on the alert, but it was mainly the +thoughts that crowded in upon her that would not let her rest. The +thought of Guy troubled her most, this and the knowledge that Kieff +was in the neighbourhood. She had an almost uncanny dread of this +man. He seemed to stand in the path as a menace, an evil influence +that she could neither avert nor withstand. Burke had barely +mentioned him, yet his words had expressed the thought that had +sprung instantly to her mind. He was an enemy to them all, most of +all to Guy, and she feared him. She had a feeling that she would +sooner or later have to fight him for Guy's soul, and she was sick +with apprehension. For the only weapon at her disposal was that +weapon she dare not wield. + +The long night dragged away. She thought it would never end. When +sleep came to her at last it was only to bring dreadful dreams in +its train. Burke in danger! Burke imprisoned in a burning hut! +Burke at the mercy of Kieff, the merciless! + +She wrenched herself free from these nightmares in the very early +morning while the stars were still in the sky, and went out on to +the _stoep_ to banish the evil illusions from her brain. It was +still and cold and desolate. The guest-hut in which Kelly was +sleeping was closed. There was no sign of life anywhere. A great +longing to go out alone on to the _veldt_ came to her. She felt as +if the great solitude must soothe her spirit. And it would be good +to realize her wish and to see the day break from that favourite +_kopje_ of hers. + +She turned to re-enter her room for an extra wrap, and then started +at sight of another figure standing at the corner of the bungalow. +She thought it was Burke, and her heart gave a wild leap within +her, but the next moment as it began to move noiselessly towards +her, she recognized Guy. + +He came to her on stealthy feet. "Hullo!" he whispered. "Can't +you sleep?" + +She held out her hand to him. "Guy! You ought to be in bed!" + +He made an odd grimace, and bending, carried her hand to his lips. +"I couldn't sleep either. I've been tormented with a fiery thirst +all night long. What has been keeping you awake? Honestly now!" + +He laughed into her eyes, and she was aware that he was trying to +draw her nearer to him. There was about him at, that moment a +subtle allurement that was hard to resist. Old memories thrilled +through her at his touch. For five years she had held herself as +belonging to him. Could the spell be broken in as many months? + +Yet she did resist him, turning her face away. "I can't tell you," +she said, a quiver in her voice. "I had a good deal to think +about. Guy, what is--Kieff doing at Piet Vreiboom's?" + +Guy frowned. "Heaven knows. He is there for his own amusement, +not mine." + +"You didn't know he was there?" she said, looking at him again. + +His frown deepened. "Yes, I knew. Of course I knew. Why?" + +Her heart sank. "I don't like him," she said. "I know he is +clever. I know he saved your life. But I never did like him. +I--am afraid of him." + +"Perhaps you would have rather he hadn't saved my life?" suggested +Guy, with a twist of the lips. "It would have simplified matters +considerably, wouldn't it?" + +"Don't!" she said, and withdrew her hand. "You know how it hurts +me--to hear you talk like that." + +"Why should it hurt you?" said Guy. + +She was silent, and he did not press for an answer. Instead, very +softly he whistled the air of a song that he had been wont to sing +to her half in jest in the old days. + + Love that hath us in the net + Can he pass and we forget? + +She made a little movement of flinching, but the next moment she +turned back to him with absolute steadfastness. "Guy, you and I +are friends, aren't we? We never could be anything else." + +"Oh, couldn't we?" said Guy. + +"No," she maintained resolutely. "Please let us remember that! +Please let us build on that!" + +He looked at her whimsically. "It's a shaky foundation," he said. +"But we'll try. That is, we'll pretend if you like. Who knows? +We may succeed." + +"Don't put it like that!" she said. "Be a man, Guy! I know you +can be. Only yesterday----" + +"Yesterday? What happened yesterday?" said Guy. "I never remember +the yesterdays." + +"I think you do," she said. "You did a big thing yesterday. You +saved Burke." + +"Oh, that!" He uttered a low laugh. "My dear girl, don't canonize +me on that account! I only did it because those swine wanted to see +him burn." + +She shuddered. "That is not true. You know it is not true. It +pleases you to pretend you are callous. But you are not at heart. +Burke knows that as well as I do," + +"Oh, damn Burke!" he said airly. "He's no great oracle. I wonder +what you'd have said if I had come back without him." + +She clenched her hands hard to keep back another shudder. "I can't +talk of that--can't think of it even. You don't know--you will +never realize--all that Burke has done for me." + +"Yes, I do know," Guy said. "But most men would have jumped at the +chance to do the same. You take it all too seriously. It was no +sacrifice to him. You don't owe him anything. He wouldn't have +done it if he hadn't taken a fancy to you. And he didn't do it for +nothing either. He's not such a philanthropist as that." + +Somehow that hurt her intolerably. She looked at him with a quick +flash of anger in her eyes. "Do you want to make me hate you?" she +said. + +He turned instantly and with a most winning gesture. "No, darling. +You couldn't if you tried," he said. + +She went back a step, shaking her head. "I am not so sure," she +said. "Why do you say these horrible things to me?" + +He held out his hand to her. "I'm awfully sorry, dear," he said. +"But it is for your good. I want you to see life as it is, not as +your dear little imagination is pleased to paint it. You are so +dreadfully serious always. Life isn't, you know. It really isn't. +It's nothing but a stupid and rather vulgar farce." + +She gave him her hand, for she could not deny him; but she gave no +sign of yielding with it. "Oh, how I wish you would take it more +seriously!" she said. + +"Do you?" he said. "But what's the good? Who Is it going to +benefit if I do? Not myself. I should hate it. And not you. You +are much too virtuous to have any use for me." + +"Oh, Guy," she said, "Is it never worth while to play the game?" + +His hand tightened upon hers. "Look here!" he said suddenly. +"Suppose I did as you wish--suppose I did pull up--play the game, +as you call it? Suppose I clawed and grabbed for success Like the +rest of the world--and got it. Would you care?" + +"I wasn't talking of success," she said. "That's no answer." He +swung her hand to and fro with vehement impatience. "Suppose you +were free--yes, you've got to suppose it just for a moment--suppose +you were free--and suppose I came to you with both hands full, and +offered you myself and all I possessed--would you send me empty +away? Would you? Would you?" + +He spoke with a fevered insistence. His eyes were alight and +eager. Just so had he spoken in the long ago when she had given +him her girlish heart in full and happy surrender. + +There was no surrender in her attitude now, but yet she could not, +she could not, relentlessly send him from her. He appealed so +strongly, with so intense an earnestness. + +"I can't imagine these things, Guy," she said at last. "I only ask +you--implore you--to do your best to keep straight. It is worth +while, believe me. You will find that it is worth while." + +"It might be--with you to make it so," he said. "Without you----" + +She shook her head. "No--no! For other, better reasons. We have +our duty to do. We must do it. It is the only way to be happy. I +am sure of that." + +"Have you found it so?" he said. "Are you happy?" + +She hesitated. + +He pressed his advantage instantly. "You are not. You know you +are not. Do you think you can deceive me even though you may +deceive yourself? We have known each other too long for that. You +are not happy, Sylvia. You are afraid of life as it is--of life as +it might be. You haven't pluck to take your fate into your own +hands and hew out a way for yourself. You're the slave of +circumstances and you're afraid to break free." He made as if he +would release her, and then suddenly, unexpectedly, caught her hand +up to his face. "All the same, you are mine--you are mine!" he +told her hotly. "You belonged to me from the beginning, and +nothing else counts or ever can count against that. I would have +died to get out of your way. I tried to die. But you brought me +back. And now, say what you like--say what you like--you are mine! +I saw it in your eyes last night, and I defy every law that man +ever made to take you from me. I defy the thing you call duty. +You love me! You have always loved me! Deny it if you can!" + +It was swift, it was almost overwhelming. At another moment it +might have swept her off her feet. But a greater force was at work +within her, and she stood her ground. + +She drew her hand away. "Not like that, Guy," she said. "I love +you. Yes, I love you. But only as a friend. You--you don't +understand me. How should you? I have grown beyond all your +knowledge of me. I was a girl in the old days--when we played at +love together." A sharp sob rose in her throat, but she stifled +it. "All that is over. I am a woman now. My eyes are +open,--and--the romance is all gone." + +He stiffened as if he had been struck, but only for a second. The +next recklessly he laughed. "That is just your way of putting it," +he said. "Love doesn't change--like that. It either goes out, or +it remains--for good. It is you who don't understand yourself. +You may turn your back on the truth, but you can't alter it. Those +who have once been lovers--and lovers such as you and I--can never +again be only friends. That, if you like, is the impossible. +But--" He paused for a moment, with lifted shoulders, then +abruptly turned to go. "Good-bye!" he said. + +"You are going?" she questioned. + +He swung on his heel as if irresolute. "Yes, I am going. I am +going back to my cabin, back to my wallowing in the mire. Why not? +Is there anyone who cares the toss of a halfpenny what I do?" + +"Yes." Breathlessly she answered him; the words seemed to leap +from her of their own accord, and surely it was hardly of her own +volition that she followed and held his arm, detaining him. "Guy! +You know we care. Burke cares. I care. Guy, please, dear, +please! It's such a pity. Oh, it's such a pity! Won't you--can't +you--fight against it? Won't you even--try? I know you could +conquer, if only--if only you would try!" Her eyes were raised to +his. She besought him with all the strength of her being. She +clung to him as if she would hold him back by sheer physical force +from the abyss at his feet. "Oh, Guy, it is worth while!" she +pleaded. "Indeed--indeed it is worth while--whatever it costs. +Guy,--I beseech--I implore you----" + +She broke off, for with a lightning movement he had taken her face +between his hands. "You can make it worth while," he said. "I +will do it--for you." + +He held her passionately close for an instant, but he did not kiss +her. She saw the impulse to do so in his eyes, and she saw him +beat it fiercely back. That was the only comfort that remained to +her when the next moment he sprang away and went so swiftly from +her that he was lost to sight almost before she knew that he was +gone. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE SUMMONS + +When Kelly awoke that morning, it was some time later, and Burke +was entering his hut with a steaming cup of cocoa. The Irishman +stretched his large bulk and laughed up at his friend. + +"Faith, it's the good host that ye are! I've slept like a top, my +son, and never an evil dream. How's the lad this morning? And +how's the land?" + +"The land's all right so far," Burke said. "I'm just off to help +them bring in the animals. The northern dam has failed." + +Kelly leaped from his bed. "I'll come. That's just the job for me +and St. Peter. Don't bring the missis along though! It's too much +for her." + +"I know that," Burke said shortly. "I've told her so. She is to +take it easy for a bit. The climate is affecting her." + +Kelly looked at him with his kindly, curious eyes. "Can't you get +things fixed up here and bring her along to Brennerstadt for the +races and the diamond gamble? It would do you both good to have a +change." + +Burke shook his head, "I doubt if she would care for it. And young +Guy would want to come too. If he did, he would soon get up to +mischief again. He has gone back to his hut this morning, cleared +out early. I hope he is to be trusted to behave himself." + +"Oh, leave the boy alone!" said Kelly. "He's got some decent +feelings of his own, and it doesn't do to mother him too much. +Give him his head for a bit! He's far less likely to bolt." + +Burke shrugged his shoulders. "I can't hold him if he means to go, +I quite admit. But I haven't much faith in his keeping on the +straight, and that's a fact. I don't like his going back to the +hut, and I'd have prevented it if I'd known. But I slept in the +sitting-room last night, and I was dead beat. He cleared out +early." + +"Didn't anyone see him go?" queried Kelly keenly. + +"Yes. My wife." Again Burke's tone was curt, repressive. "She +couldn't stop him." + +"She made him hold hard with the brandy-bottle last night," said +Kelly. "I admired her for it. She's got a way with her, Burke. +Sure, the devil himself couldn't have resisted her then." + +Burke's faint smile showed for a moment; he said nothing. + +"How you must worship her!" went on Kelly, with amiable effusion. +"Some fellows have all the luck. Sure, you're never going to let +that sweet angel languish here like that poor little Mrs. Merston! +You wouldn't now! Come, you wouldn't!" + +But Burke passed the matter by. He had pressing affairs on hand, +and obviously it was not his intention to discuss his conduct +towards his wife even with the worthy Kelly whose blundering +goodness so often carried him over difficult ground that few others +would have ventured to negotiate. + +He left Kelly to dress, and went back to the bungalow where Sylvia +was busy with a duster trying to get rid of some of the sand that +thickly covered everything. He had scarcely spoken to her that +morning except for news Of Guy, but now he drew her aside. + +"Look here!" he said. "Don't wear yourself out!" + +She gave him a quick look. "Oh, I shan't do that. Work is good +for me. Isn't this sand too awful for words?" + +She spoke with a determined effort to assume the old careless +attitude towards him, but the nervous flush on her cheeks betrayed +her. + +He put his hand on her shoulder, and wheeled her round somewhat +suddenly towards the light. "You didn't sleep last night," he said. + +She tried to laugh, but she could not check the hot flush of +embarrassment that raced into her pale cheeks under his look. "I +couldn't help it," she said. "I was rather wound up yesterday. +It--was an exciting day, wasn't it?" + +He continued to look at her for several seconds, intently but not +sternly. Then very quietly he spoke. "Sylvia, if things go wrong, +if the servants upset you, come to me about it! Don't go to Guy!" + +She understood the reference in a moment. The flush turned to +flaming crimson that mounted in a wave to her forehead. She drew +back from him, her head high. + +"And if Schafen or any other man comes to you with offensive gossip +regarding my behaviour, please kick him as he deserves--next time!" +she said. "And then--if you think it necessary--come to me for an +explanation!" + +She spoke with supreme scorn, every word a challenge. She was more +angry in that moment than she could remember that she had ever been +before. How dared he hear Schafen's evidence against her, and then +coolly take her thus to task? + +The memory of his kiss swept back upon her as she spoke, that kiss +that had so cruelly wounded her, that kiss that had finally rent +the veil away from her quivering heart. She stood before him with +clenched hands. If he had attempted to kiss her then, she would +have struck him. + +But he did not move. He stood, looking at her, looking at her, +till at last her wide eyes wavered and sank before his own. He +spoke then, an odd inflection in his voice. + +"Why are you so angry?" + +Her two fists were pressed hard against her sides. She was aware +of a weakening of her self-control, and she fought with all her +strength to retain it. She could not speak for a second or two, +but it was not fear that restrained her. + +"Tell me!" he said. "Why are you angry?" + +The colour was dying slowly out of her face; a curious chill had +followed the sudden flame. "It is your own fault," she said. + +"How--my fault?" Burke's voice was wholly free from any sort of +emotion; but his question held insistence notwithstanding. + +She answered it almost in spite of herself. "For making me hate +you." + +He made a slight movement as of one who shifts his hold upon some +chafing creature to strengthen his grip. "How have I done that?" +he said. + +She answered him in a quick, breathless rush of words that betrayed +her failing strength completely. "By doubting me--by being jealous +and showing it--by--by--by insulting me!" + +"What?" he said. + +She turned from him sharply and walked away, battling with herself. +"You know what I mean," she said tremulously. "You know quite well +what I mean. You were angry yesterday--angry because Hans +Schafen--a servant--had told you something that made you distrust +me. And because you were angry, you--you--you insulted me!" She +turned round upon him suddenly with eyes of burning accusation. +She was fighting, fighting, with all her might, to hide from him +that frightened, quivering thing that she herself had recognized +but yesterday. If it had been a plague-spot, she could not have +guarded it more jealously. Its presence scared her. Her every +instinct was to screen it somehow, somehow, from those keen eyes. +For he was so horribly strong, so shrewd, so merciless! + +He came up to her as she wheeled. He took one of her quivering +wrists, and held it, his fingers closely pressed upon the leaping +pulse. "Sylvia!" he said, and this time there was an edge to his +voice that made her aware that he was putting force upon himself. +"I have never insulted you--or distrusted you. Everything was +against me yesterday. But when I left you, I gave all I possessed +into your keeping. It is in your keeping still. Does that look +like distrust?" + +She gave, a quick, involuntary start, but he went on, scarcely +pausing. + +"When a man is going into possible danger, and his wife is thinking +of--other things, is he so greatly to blame if he takes the +quickest means at his disposal of waking her up?" + +"Ah!" she said. Had he not waked her indeed? But yet--but +yet--She looked at ham doubtfully. + +"Listen!" he said. "We've been going round in a circle lately. +It's been like that infernal game we used to play as children. +'Snail,' wasn't it called? Where nobody ever got home and +everybody always lost their tempers! Let's get out of it, Sylvia! +Let's leave Guy and Schafen to look after things, and go to the top +of the world by ourselves! I'll take great care of you. You'll be +happy, you know. You'll like it." + +He spoke urgently, leaning towards her. There was nothing terrible +about him at that moment. All the mastery had gone from his +attitude. He was even smiling a little. + +Her heart gave a great throb. It was so long, so long, since he +had spoken to her thus. And then, like a blasting wind, the memory +of Guy's bitter words rushed across her. She seemed again to feel +the sand of the desert blowing in her face, sand that was blended +with ashes. Was it only a slave that he wanted after all? She +hated herself for the thought, but she could not drive it out. + +"Don't you like that idea?" he said. + +Still she hesitated. "What of Guy?" she said. "We must think of +him, Burke. We must." + +"I'm thinking of him," he said. "A little responsibility would +probably do him good." + +"But to leave him--entirely--" She broke off. Someone was +knocking at the outer door, and she was thankful for the +interruption. Burke turned away, and went to answer. He came back +with a note in his hand. + +"It's Merston's house-boy," he said. "I've sent him round to the +kitchen to get a feed. Something's up there, I am afraid. Let's +see what he has to say!" + +He opened the letter while he was speaking, and there fell a short +silence while he read. Sylvia took up her duster again. Her hands +were trembling. + +In a moment Burke spoke. "Yes, it's from Merston. The poor chap +has had an accident, fallen from his horse and badly wrenched his +back. His overseer is away, and he wants to know if I will go over +and lend a hand. I must go of course." He turned round to her. +"You'll be able to manage for a day or two?" + +Her breathing came quickly, nervously. She felt oddly uncertain of +herself, as if she had just come through a crisis that had bereft +her of all her strength, + +"Of course," she said, not looking at him. "Of course." + +He stood for a moment or two, watching her. Then he moved to her +side. + +"I'm leaving you in charge," he said, "But you won't overdo it? +Promise me!" + +She laughed a little. The thought of his going was a vast relief +to her at that moment. She yearned to be alone, to readjust her +life somehow before she met him again. She wanted to rebuild her +defences. She wanted to be quite sure of herself. + +"Oh, I shall take great care of myself," she said. "I'm very good +at that." + +"I wonder," said Burke, And then he laid his hand upon the flicking +duster and stopped her quivering activity. "Are you still--hating +me?" he said. + +She stood motionless, and still her eyes avoided his. "I'll tell +you," she said, "when we meet again." + +"Does that mean that I am to go--unforgiven?" he said. + +Against her will she looked at him. In spite of her, her lip +trembled, + +He put his arm round her. "Does it?" he said. + +"No," she whispered back. + +In that moment they were nearer than they had been through all the +weeks of Guy's illness, nearer possibly than they had ever been +before. It would have been so easy for Sylvia to lean upon that +strong encircling arm, so easy that she wondered afterwards how she +restrained the impulse to do so. But the moment passed so quickly, +sped by the sound of Kelly's feet upon the _stoep_, and Burke's arm +pressed her close and then fell away. + +There was neither disappointment nor annoyance on his face as he +turned to meet his guest. He was even smiling. + +Sylvia recalled that smile afterwards--the memory of it went with +her through all the bitter hours that followed. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +FOR THE SAKE OF THE OLD LOVE + +Kelly accompanied Burke when, after hurried preparation and +consultation with Schafen, he finally took the rough road that +wound by the _kopje_ on his way to the Merstons' farm. He had not +intended to prolong his visit over two days, and he proposed to +conclude it now; for his leisure was limited, and he had undertaken +to be back in Brennerstadt for the occasion of the diamond draw +which he himself had organized, and which was to take place at the +end of the week. But at Burke's request, as they rode upon their +way, he promised to return to Blue Hill Farm for that night and the +next also if Burke could not return sooner. He did not mean to be +absent for more than two nights. His own affairs could not be +neglected for longer, though he might decide to send Schafen over +to help the Merstons if necessary. + +"My wife can't look after Guy single-handed," he said. "It's not a +woman's job, and I can't risk it. I shall feel easier if you are +there." + +And Kelly professed himself proud to be of service in any capacity. +If Mrs. Burke would put up with him for another night, sure, he'd +be delighted to keep her company, and he'd see that the boy behaved +himself too, though for his own part he didn't think that there was +any vice about him just then. + +They did not visit the hut or the sand whither Guy had betaken +himself. The sun was getting high, and Burke, with the Kaffir boy +who had brought the message running at his stirrup, would not +linger on the road. + +"He's probably having a rest," he said. "He won't be fit for much +else to-day. You'll see him to-night, Donovan?" + +And Donovan promised that he would. He was in fact rather proud of +the confidence reposed in him. To treat him as a friend in need +was the highest compliment that anyone could pay the kind-hearted +Irishman. Cheerily he undertook to remain at Blue Hill Farm until +Burke's return, always providing that Mrs. Burke didn't get tired +of him and turn him out. + +"She won't do that," said Burke. "You'll find she will be +delighted to see you to-day when you get back. She hasn't been +trained for solitude, and I fancy it gets on her nerves." + +Perhaps it did. But on that occasion at least Sylvia was thankful +to be left alone. She had her house to set in order, and at that +very moment she was on her knees in the sitting-room, searching, +searching in all directions for the key which she had dropped on +the previous day during the dust-storm, before Kelly's arrival. +Burke's reference to the matter had recalled it to her mind, and +now with shamed self-reproach she sought in every cranny for the +only thing of any importance which he had ever entrusted to her +care. + +She sought in vain. The sand was thick everywhere, but she +searched every inch of the floor with her hands, and found nothing. +The stifling heat of the day descended upon her as she searched. +She felt sick in mind and body, sick with a growing hopelessness +which she would not acknowledge. The thing could not be lost. She +knew that Burke had slept in the room, and none of the servants had +been alone in it since. So the key must be somewhere there, must +have been kicked into some corner, or caught in a crack. She had +felt so certain of finding it that she had not thought it necessary +to tell Burke of her carelessness. But now she began to wish she +had told him. Her anxiety was turning to a perfect fever of +apprehension. The conviction was beginning to force itself upon +her that someone must have found the key. + +But who--who? No Kaffir, she was certain. No Kaffir had entered. +And Burke had been there all night long. He had slept in the long +chair, giving up his bed to the guest. And he had slept late, +tired out after the violent exertions of the previous day. + +He had slept late! Suddenly, there on her knees in the litter of +sand, another thought flashed through her brain, the thought of her +own sleeplessness, the thought of the early morning, the thought of +Guy. + +He had been up early. He generally rested till late in the +morning. He too had been sleepless. But he had a remedy for that +which she knew he would not scruple to take if he felt the need. +His wild excitement of the night before rose up before her. His +eager interest in Kelly's talk of the diamond, the strangeness of +his attitude that morning. And then, with a lightning suddenness, +came the memory of Kieff. + +Guy was under Kieff's influence. She was certain of it. And +Kieff? She shrank at the bare thought of the man, his subtle +force, his callous strength of purpose, his almost uncanny +intelligence. Yes, she was afraid of Kieff--she had always been +afraid of Kieff. + +The midday heat seemed to press upon her like a burning, crushing +weight. It seemed to deprive her of the power to think, certainly +of the power to reason. For what rational connection could there +be between Kieff and the loss of Burke's key? Kieff was several +miles away at the farm of Piet Vreiboom. And Guy--where was Guy? +She wished he would come back. Surely he would come back soon! +She would tell him of her loss, she yearned to tell someone; she +would get him to help her in her search. For it could not be lost. +It could not be really lost! They would find it somehow--somehow! + +It was no actual reasoning but a blind instinct that moved her to +get up at length and go to the room that Guy had occupied for so +long, the room that was Burke's. It was just as Guy had left it +that morning. She noted mechanically the disordered bed. The +cupboard in the corner was closed as usual, but the key was in the +lock. Burke kept his clothes on the higher shelves. The +strong-box stood on the floor with some boots. + +Her eyes went straight to it. Some magnetism seemed to be at work, +compelling her. And then--she gave a gasp of wonder, and almost +fell on to the sandy floor beside the box. The key was in the lock! + +Was it all a dream then? Had it never been lost? Had she but +imagined Burke's action in confiding it to her? She closed her +eyes for a space, for her brain was swimming. The terrible, +parching heat seemed to have turned into a wheel--a fiery wheel of +torture that revolved behind her eyes, making her wince at every +turn. The pain was intense; when she tried to move, it was +excruciating. She sank down with her head almost on the iron box +and waited in dumb endurance for relief. + +A long time passed so, and she fancied later that she must have +slept, for she dared not move while that awful pain lasted, and she +was scarcely conscious of her surroundings. But it became less +acute at last; she found herself sitting up with wide-open eyes, +trying to collect her thoughts. + +They evaded her for a while, and she dared not employ any very +strenuous effort to capture them, lest that unspeakable suffering +should return. But gradually--very gradually--the power to reason +returned to her. She found herself gazing at the key that had cost +her so much; and after a little, impelled by what seemed to be +almost a new sense within her, she took it between her quivering +fingers and turned it. + +It went with an ease that surprised her, for she remembered--her +brain was becoming every moment more strangely clear and alert--she +remembered that Burke had said only a day or two before that it +needed oiling. She opened the box, and with a fateful premonition +looked within. + +A few papers in a rubber band lay in the bottom of the box, and +beside them, carelessly tossed aside, an envelope! There was no +money at all. + +She took up the envelope, feverishly searching. It contained a +cigarette--one of her own--that had been half-smoked. She stared +at it for a second or two in wonder, then like a stab came the +memory of that night--so long ago--when he had taken the cigarette +from between her lips, when he had been on the verge of speech, +when she had stood waiting to hear . . . and Guy had come between. + +Many seconds later she put the envelope back, and got up. +Conviction had come irresistibly upon her; she knew now whose hand +had oiled the lock, she knew beyond all doubting who had opened the +box, and left it thus. + +She was trembling no longer, but steady--firm as a rock. She must +find Guy. Wherever he was, she must find him. That money--her own +sacred charge--must be returned before she faced Burke again. Guy +was mad. She must save him from his madness. This fight for Guy's +soul--she had seen it coming. She realized it as a hand to hand +fight with Kieff. But she would win. She was bound to win. So +she told herself. No power of evil could possibly triumph +ultimately, and she knew that deep in his inmost heart Guy +acknowledged this. However wild and reckless his words, he did not +really expect to see her waver. He might be the slave of evil +himself, but he knew that she would never share his slavery. He +knew it, and in spite of himself he honoured her. She believed he +would always honour her. And this was the weapon on which she +counted for his deliverance, this and the old sweet friendship +between them that was infinitely more enduring than first love. +She believed that her influence over him was greater than Kieff's. +Otherwise she had not dared to pit her strength against that of the +enemy. Otherwise she had waited to beg the help of Kelly, who +always helped everyone. + +The thought of Burke she put resolutely from her. Burke should +never know, if she could prevent it, how low Guy had fallen. If +only she could save Guy from that, she believed she might save him +from all. When once his eyes were opened, when once she had beaten +down Kieff's ascendancy, the battle would be won. But she must act +immediately and with decision. There was not a moment to lose. If +Guy were not checked now, at the very outset, there would be no +saving him from the abyss. She must find him now, at once. And +she must do it alone. There was no alternative to that. Only +alone could she hope to influence him. + +She stooped and locked the box once more, taking the key. Now that +she knew the worst, her weakness was all gone. With the old steady +fearlessness she went from the room. The battle was before her, +but she knew no misgiving. She would win--she was bound to +win--for the sake of the old love and in the strength of the new. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE BEARER OF EVIL TIDINGS + +It was late in the afternoon when Kelly returned to Blue Hill Farm. +He had been riding round Merston's lands with Burke during a great +part of the day, and he was comfortably tired. He looked forward +to spending a congenial evening with his hostess, and he hoped that +young Guy would not be of too lively a turn, for he was in a mood +for peace. + +The first chill of evening was creeping over the _veldt_ as he +ambled along the trail past the _kopje_. As he came within sight +of the farm a wave of sentiment swept over him. + +"Faith, it's a jolly little homestead!" he said, with a sigh. +"Lucky devil--Burke!" + +There was no one about, and he took his horse to the stable and +gave him a rub-down and feed before catering. Then he made his way +into the house from the back, + +There was a light in the sitting-room, and he betook himself +thither, picturing the homely scene of Sylvia knitting socks for +her husband or engaged upon some housewifely task. + +He announced himself with his customary, cheery garrulity as he +entered. + +"Ah, here I am again, Mrs. Burke! And it's good news I've got for +ye. Merston's not so badly damaged after all, and your husband is +hoping to be back by midday in the morning." + +He stopped short. The room was not empty, but the figure that rose +up with an easy, sinuous movement to meet him was not the figure he +had expected to see. + +"Good evening, Kelly!" said Saul Kieff. + +"What the devil!" said Kelly. + +Kieff smiled in a cold, detached fashion. "I came over to find Mr. +Burke Ranger. But I gather he is away from home." + +"What have you come for?" said Kelly. + +He did not like Kieff though his nature was too kindly to entertain +any active antipathy towards anyone. But no absence of intimacy +could ever curb his curiosity, and he never missed any information +for lack of investigation. + +Kieff's motionless black eyes took him in with satirical +comprehension. He certainly would never have made a confidant of +such a man as Kelly unless it had suited his purpose. He took +several moments for consideration before he made reply. "I presume +you are aware," he said then, "that Mrs. Ranger has left for +Brennerstadt?" + +"What?" said Kelly. + +Kieff did not repeat his question. He merely waited for it to sink +in. A faint, subtle smile still hovered about his sallow features. +It was obvious that he regarded his news in anything but a tragic +light. + +"Gone to Brennerstadt!" ejaculated Kelly at length. "But what the +devil would she go there for? I was going myself to-morrow. I'd +have taken her." + +"She probably preferred to choose her own escort," said Kieff. + +"What?" said Kelly again. "Man, is it the truth you're giving me?" + +"Not much point in lying," said Kieff coldly, "when there is +nothing to be gained by it! Mrs. Burke Ranger has gone to +Brennerstadt by way of Ritzen, in the company of Guy Ranger. Piet +Vreiboom will tell you the same thing if you ask him. He is going +to Brennerstadt too to-morrow, and I with him. Perhaps we can +travel together. We may overtake the amorous couple if we ride all +the way." + +Without any apparent movement, his smile intensified at sight of +the open consternation on Kelly's red countenance. + +"You seem surprised at something," he said. + +"I don't believe a damn' word of it," said Kelly bluntly. "You +didn't see them." + +"I saw them both," said Kieff, still smiling, "Piet Vreiboom saw +them also. But the lady seemed to be in a great hurry, so we did +not detain them. They are probably at Ritzen by now, if not +beyond." + +"Oh, damnation!" said Kelly tragically. + +Kieff's smile slowly vanished. His eyes took on a stony, remote +look as though the matter had ceased to interest him. And while +Kelly tramped impotently about the room, he leaned his shoulders +against the wall and stared into space. + +"I am really rather glad to have met you," he remarked presently. +"Can you give me any tip regarding this diamond of Wilbraham's? +You know its value to the tenth part of a farthing, I have no +doubt." + +Kelly paused to glare at him distractedly, "Oh, curse the diamond!" +he said, "It's Mrs. Burke I'm thinking of." + +Kieff's thin lips curled contemptuously. "A woman!" he said, and +snapped his fingers. "A woman who can be bought and sold +again--for far less than half its cost! My good Kelly! Are you +serious?" + +Kelly stamped an indignant foot. "You infernal, cold-blooded +Kaffir!" he roared. "I'm human anyway, which is more than you are!" + +Kieff's sneer deepened. It was Kelly's privilege always to speak +his mind, and no one took offence however extravagantly he +expressed himself. "Can't we have a drink?" he suggested, in the +indulgent tone of one humouring a fractious child. + +"Drink--with you!" fumed Kelly. + +Kieff smiled again. "Of course you will drink with me! It's too +good an excuse to miss. What is troubling you? Surely there is +nothing very unusual in the fact that Mrs. Burke finds herself in +need of a little change!" + +Kelly groaned aloud. "I've got to go and tell Burke. That's the +hell of it. Sure I'd give all the money I can lay hands on to be +quit of that job." + +"You are over-sensitive," remarked Kieff, showing a gleam of teeth +between his colourless lips. "He will think far less of this than +of disease in his cattle or crops. They were nothing to each +other, nor ever could be. She and Guy Ranger have been lovers all +through." + +"Ah, faith then, I know better!" broke in Kelly. "He worships her +from the crown of her head to the sole of her foot. He'll be fit +to kill young Guy for this. By the saints above us, I could almost +kill him myself." + +"You needn't!" said Kieff with ironical humour. "And Burke needn't +either. As for the woman--" he snapped his fingers again--"she'll +come back like a homing dove, if he waits a little." + +Kelly swore again furiously. "Ah, why did I ever lend myself to +digging young Guy out of Hoffstein's? Only a blasted fool could +have expected to bring anything but corruption out of that sink of +evil. It was Burke's own doing, but I was a fool--I was a three +times fool--to give in to him." + +"Where is the worthy Burke?" questioned Kieff, "Over at Merston's, +doing the good Samaritan; been working like a nigger all day. And +now!" There was actually a sound of tears in Kelly's voice. "I'd +give me right hand," he vowed tremulously, "I'd give me soul--such +as it is--to be out of this job." + +"You want a drink," said Kieff. + +Kelly sniffed and began a clumsy search for refreshment. + +Kieff came forward kindly and helped him. It was he who measured +the drinks finally when they were produced, and even Kelly, who +could stand a good deal, opened his eyes somewhat at the draught he +prepared for himself. + +"Dry weather!" remarked Kieff, as he tossed it down. "You're not +going back to Merston's to-night, are you?" + +"Must," said Kelly laconically. + +"Why not wait till the morning?" suggested Kieff. "I shall be +passing that way myself then. We could go together." + +There was a gleam in his black eyes that made Kelly look at him +hard. "And what would you want to be there for?" he demanded +aggressively. "Isn't one bearer of evil tidings enough?" + +Kieff smiled. "I wonder if the lady left any message behind," he +suggested. "Possibly she has written a note to explain her own +absence. How long did the good Burke propose to be away?" + +"Two or three nights in the first place. But he is coming back +to-morrow." A sudden idea flashed upon Kelly. "Ah, p'raps she's +hoping to be back before he is! Maybe there's more to this than we +understand! I'll not go over. I'll wait and see. She may be back +in the morning, she and young Guy too. They're old friends. +P'raps there's nothing in it but just a jaunt." + +Kieff's laugh had a sound like the slipping of a stone in a slimy +cave. "You always had ideas," he remarked. "But they will +scarcely be back from Brennerstadt by the morning. Can't you +devise some means of persuading Burke to extend his visit to the +period originally intended? Then perhaps they might return in +time." + +Kelly looked at him sternly. That laugh was abominable in his +ears. "Faith, I'll go now," he said. "And I'll go alone. You've +done your part, and I'll not trouble you at all to help me do mine." + +Kieff turned to go. "I always admired your sense of duty, +Donovan," he said. "Let us hope it will bring you out on the right +side,--and your friends the Rangers with you!" + +He was gone with the words, silent as a shadow on the wall, and +Kelly was left wondering why he had not seized the bearer of evil +tidings and kicked the horrible laughter out of him. + +"Faith, I'll do it when I get to Brennerstadt," he said to himself +vindictively. "But it's friends first, eh, Burke, my lad?--Ah, +Burke, my boy, friends first!" + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE SHARP CORNER + +Was it only a few months since last she had looked out over the +barren _veldt_ from the railway at Ritzen? It seemed to Sylvia +like half a lifetime. + +In the dark of the early morning she sat in the southward-bound +train on her way to Brennerstadt, and tried to recall her first +impressions. There he had stood under the lamp waiting for +her--the man whom she had taken for Guy. She saw herself springing +to meet him with eager welcome on her lips and swift-growing +misgiving at her heart. How good he had been to her! That thought +came up above the rest, crowding out the memory of her first +terrible dismay. He had surrounded her with a care as chivalrous +as any of the friends of her former life could have displayed. He +had sheltered her from the dreadful loneliness, and from the world +upon the mercy of which she had been so completely thrown. He had +not seemed to bestow, but she realized now how at every turn his +goodness had provided, his strength had shielded. He had not +suffered her to feel the obligation under which she was placed. He +had treated her merely as a comrade in distress. He had given her +freely the very best that a man could offer, and he had done it in +a fashion that had made acceptance easy, almost inevitable. + +Her thoughts travelled onwards till they came to her marriage. +Again the memory of the man's unfailing chivalry came before all +else. Again, how good he had been to her! And she had taken full +advantage of his goodness. For the first time she wondered if she +had been justified in so doing. She asked herself if she had +behaved contemptibly. She had not been ready to make a full +surrender, and he had not asked for it. But it seemed to her now +that she had returned his gifts with a niggardliness which must +have made her appear very small-minded. He had been great. He had +subordinated his wishes to her. He had been patient; ah yes, +perhaps too patient! Probably her utter dependence upon him had +made him so. + +Slowly her thoughts passed on to the coming of Guy. She realized +that the rapid events that had succeeded his coming had rendered +her impressions of Burke a little blurred. Through all those first +stages of Guy's illness, she could scarcely recall him at all. Her +mind was full of the image of Kieff, subtle, cruel, almost +ghoulish, a man of deep cunning and incomprehensible motives. It +had suited his whim to save Guy. She had often wondered why. She +was certain that no impulse of affection had moved him or was +capable of moving him. No pity, no sympathy, had ever complicated +this man's aims or crippled his achievements. He had a clear, +substantial reason for everything that he did. It had pleased him +to bring Guy back to life, and so he had not scrupled as to the +means he had employed to do so. He had practically forced her into +a position which circumstances had combined to make her retain. He +had probably, she reflected now, urged Guy upon every opportunity +to play the traitor to his best friend. He had established over +him an influence which she felt that it would take her utmost +effort to overthrow. He had even forced him into the quagmire of +crime. For that Guy had done this thing, or would ever have +dreamed of doing it, on his own initiative she did not believe. +And it was that certainty which had sent her from his empty hut on +the sand in pursuit of him, daring all to win him back ere he had +sunk too deep for deliverance. She had ridden to Ritzen by way of +the Vreiboom's farm, half-expecting to find Guy there. But she had +seen only Kieff and Piet Vreiboom. Her face burned still at the +memory of the former's satirical assurance that Guy was but a few +miles ahead of her and she would easily overtake him. He had +translated this speech to Piet Vreiboom who had laughed, laughed +with a sickening significance, at the joke. In her disgust she had +ridden swiftly on without stopping to ascertain if Guy had gone to +Ritzen or had decided to ride the whole forty miles to Brennerstadt. + +The lateness of the hour, however, had decided her to make for the +former place since she knew she could get a train there on the +following morning and she could not face the long journey at night +alone on the _veldt_. It had been late when she reached Ritzen, +but she had thankfully found accommodation for the night at the by +no means luxurious hotel in which she had slept on the night of her +arrival so long ago. + +Now in the early morning she was ready to start again, having +regretfully left her horse, Diamond, in the hotel-stable to await +her return. + +If all went well, she counted upon being back, perhaps with Guy +accompanying her, in the early afternoon. And then she would +probably be at Blue Hill Farm again before Burke's return. She +hoped with all her heart to accomplish this. For though it would +be impossible to hide the fact of her journey from him, she did not +want him to suspect the actual reason that had made it so urgent. +Let him think that anxiety for Guy--their mutual charge--had sent +her after him! But never, for Guy's sake, let him imagine the +actual shameful facts of the case! She counted upon Burke's +ignorance as the strongest weapon for Guy's persuasion. Let him +but realize that a way of escape yet remained to him, and she +believed that he would take it. For surely--ah, surely, if she +knew him--he had begun already to repent in burning shame and +self-loathing. + +He must have ridden all the way to Brennerstadt, for he was not at +Ritzen. Ritzen was not a place to hide in. Would she find him at +Brennerstadt? There were only two hotels there, and Kieff had said +he would stop at one of them. She did not trust Kieff for a +moment, but some inner conviction told her that it was his +intention that she should find Guy. He did not expect her +influence to overcome his. That she fully realized. He was not +afraid of being superseded. Perhaps he wanted to demonstrate to +her her utter weakness. Perhaps he had deeper schemes. She did +not stop to imagine what they were. She shrank from the thought of +them as purity shrinks instinctively from the contemplation of +evil. She believed that, if once she could meet Guy face to face, +she could defeat him. She counted upon that understanding which +had been between them from the beginning and which had drawn them +to each other in spite of all opposition. She counted upon that +part of Guy which Kieff had never known, those hidden qualities +which vice had overgrown like a fungus but which she knew were +still existent under the surface evil. Guy had been generous and +frank in the old days, a lover of fair play, an impetuous follower +of anything that appealed to him as great. She was sure that these +characteristics had been an essential part of his nature. He had +failed through instability, through self-indulgence and weakness of +purpose. But he was not fundamentally wicked. She was sure that +she could appeal to those good impulses within him, and that she +would not appeal in vain. She was sure that the power of good +would still be paramount over him if she held out to him the +helping hand which he so sorely needed. She had the strength +within her--strength that was more than human--and she was certain +of the victory, if only she could find him quickly, quickly! + +As she sat there waiting feverishly to start, her whole being was +in a passion of supplication that she might be in time. Even in +her sleep she had prayed that one prayer with a fierce urging that +had rendered actual repose an impossibility. She had never in her +life prayed with so intense a force. It was as if she were staking +the whole of her faith upon that one importunate plea, and though +no answer came to her striving spirit, she told herself that it +could not be in vain. In all her maddening anxiety and impatience +she never for a moment dwelt upon the chance of failure. God could +not suffer her to fail when she had fought so hard. Her very brain +seemed on fire with the urgency of her mission, and again for a +space the thought of Burke was crowded out. He occupied the back +of her mind, but she would not voluntarily turn towards him. That +would come later when her mission was fulfilled, when she could +look him in the face again with no sense of a charge neglected, or +trust betrayed. She must stand straight with Burke, but she must +save Guy first, whatever the effort, whatever the cost. She felt +she had forfeited the right to think of her own happiness till her +negligence--and the terrible consequences thereof--had been +remedied. Perhaps it was in a measure self-blame that inspired her +frantic prayer, the feeling that the responsibility was hers, and +therefore that she was a sharer of the guilt. That was another +plea, less worthy perhaps; but one to which Guy could not refuse to +listen. It could not be his intention to wreck her happiness. He +could not know all that hung upon it. Her happiness! She shivered +suddenly in the chill of the morning air. Could it be that +happiness--the greatest of all--had been actually within her grasp, +and she had let it slip unheeded? Sharply she turned her thoughts +back. No, she must not--must not think of Burke just then. + +The chance would come again. The chance must come again. But she +must not suffer herself to contemplate it now. She had forfeited +the right. + +Time passed. She thought the train would never start. The long +waiting had become almost a nightmare. She felt she would not be +able to endure it much longer. The night had seemed endless too, a +perpetual dozing and waking that had seemed to multiply the hours. +Now and then she realized that she was very tired; but for the most +part the fever of impatience that possessed her kept the +consciousness of fatigue at bay. If only she could keep moving she +felt that she could face anything. + +The day broke over the _veldt_ and the scattered open town, with a +burning splendour like the kindling of a great fire. She watched +the dawn-light spread till the northern hills shone with a +celestial radiance. She leaned from the train to watch it; and as +she watched, the whole world turned golden. + +Burke's words flashed back upon her with a force irresistible. +"Let us go to the top of the world by ourselves!" Her eyes filled +with sudden tears, and as she sank down again in her seat the train +began to move. It bore her relentlessly southwards, and the land +of the early morning was left behind. + +She reflected later that that journey must have been doomed to +disaster from the very outset. It was begun an hour late, and all +things seemed to conspire to hinder them. After many halts, the +breaking of an engine-piston rendered them helpless, and the heat +of the day found them in a desolate place among _kopjes_ that +seemed to crowd them in, cutting off every current of air, while +the sun blazed mercilessly overhead and the sand-flies ceaselessly +buzzed and tormented. It was the longest day that Sylvia had ever +known, and she thought that the smell of Kaffirs would haunt her +all her life. Of the few white men on the train she knew not one, +and the desolation of despair entered into her. + +By the afternoon, when she had hoped to be on her way back, tardy +help arrived, and they crawled into Brennerstadt station, parched +and dusty and half-starved, some three hours later. + +Hope revived in her as at length she left the train. Anything was +better than the awful inactivity of that well-nigh interminable +journey. There was yet a chance--a slender one--that by an early +start or possibly travelling by a night train she and Guy might yet +be back at Blue Hill Farm by the following evening in time to meet +Burke on his return. + +Yes, the chance was there, and still she could not think that all +this desperate effort of hers could be doomed to failure. If she +could only find Guy quickly--oh, quickly! She almost ran out of +the station in her haste. + +She turned her steps instinctively towards the hotel in which she +had stayed for her marriage, It was not far from the station, and +it was the first place that occurred to her. The town was full of +people, men for the most part, men it seemed to her, of all +nationalities and colours. She heard Dutch and broken English all +around her. + +She went through the crowds, shrinking a little now and then from +any especially coarse type, nervously intent upon avoiding contact +with any. She found the hotel without difficulty, but when she +found it she checked her progress for the first time. For she was +afraid to enter. + +The evening was drawing on. She felt the welcome chill of it on +her burning face, and it kept her from yielding to the faintness +that oppressed her. But still she could not enter, till a great, +square-built Boer lounging near the doorway came up to her and +looked into her eyes with an evil leer. + +Then she summoned her strength, drew herself up, and passed him +with open disgust. + +She had to push her way through a crowd of men idling in the +entrance, and one or two accosted her, but she went by them in +stony unresponsiveness. + +At the little office at the end she found a girl, sandy-haired and +sandy-eyed, who looked up for a moment from a great book in front +of her, and before she could speak, said briskly, "There's no more +accommodation here. The place is full to overflowing. Better try +at the Good Hope over the way." + +She had returned to her occupation before the words were well +uttered, but Sylvia stood motionless, a little giddy, leaning +against the woodwork for support. + +"I only want to know," she said, after a moment, speaking with an +effort in a voice that sounded oddly muffled even to herself, "if +Mr. Ranger is here." + +"Who?" The girl looked up sharply. "Hullo!" she said. "What's the +matter?" + +"If Mr. Ranger--Mr. Ranger--is here," Sylvia repeated through a +curious mist that had gathered unaccountably around her. + +The girl got up and came to her. "Yes, he's here, I believe, or +will be presently. He's engaged a room anyhow. I didn't see him +myself. Look here, you'd better come and sit down a minute. I +seem to remember you. You're Mrs. Ranger, aren't you?" + +"Yes," said Sylvia. + +She was past explanation just then, and that simple affirmative +seemed her only course. She leaned thankfully upon the supporting +arm, fighting blindly to retain her senses. + +"Come and sit down!" the girl repeated. "I expect he'll be in +before long. They're all mad about this diamond draw. The whole +town is buzzing with it. The races aren't in it. Sit down and +I'll get you something." + +She drew Sylvia into a small inner sanctum and there left her, +sitting exhausted in a wooden armchair. She returned presently +with a tray which she set in front of her, observing practically, +"That's what you're wanting. Have a good feed, and when you've +done you'd better go up and lie down till he comes." + +She went back to her office then, closing the door between, and +Sylvia was left to recover as best she might. She forced herself +after a time to eat and drink, reflecting that physical weakness +would utterly unfit her for the task before her. She hoped with +all her heart that Guy would come soon--soon. There was a night +train back to Ritzen. She had ascertained that at the station. +They might catch that. The diamond draw was still two days away. +She prayed that he had not yet staked anything upon it, that when +he came the money might be still in his possession. + +She finished her meal and felt considerably revived. For a while +she sat listening to the hubbub of strange voices without, then the +fear that her presence might be forgotten by the busy occupant of +the office moved her to rise and open the intervening door. + +The girl was still there. She glanced round with the same alert +expression. "That you, Mrs. Ranger? He hasn't come in yet. But +you go up and wait for him! It's quieter upstairs. I'll tell him +you're here as soon as he comes in." + +She did not want to comply, but certainly the little room adjoining +the office was no place for private talk, and she dreaded the idea +of meeting Guy before the curious eyes of strangers. He would be +startled; he would be ashamed! None but herself must see him in +that moment. + +So, without protest, she allowed herself to be conducted upstairs +to the room he had engaged, her friend in the office promising +faithfully not to forget to send him up to her at once. + +The room was at the top of the house, a bare apartment but not +uncomfortable. It possessed a large window that looked across the +wide street. + +She sat down beside it and listened to the tramping crowds below. + +Her faintness had passed, but she was very tired, overwhelmingly +so. Very soon her senses became dulled to the turmoil. She +suffered herself to relax, certain that the first sound of a step +outside would recall her. And so, as night spread over the town, +she sank into sleep, lying back in the cane-chair like a worn-out +child, her burnished hair vivid against the darkness beyond. + +She did not wake at the sound of a step outside, or even at the +opening of the door. It was no sound that aroused her hours later, +but a sudden intense consciousness of expediency, as if she had +come to a sharp comer that it needed all her wits to turn in +safety. She started up with a gasp. "Guy!" she said. And then, +as her dazzled eyes saw more clearly, a low, involuntary +exclamation of dismay. "Ah!" + +It was Burke who stood with his back against the closed door, +looking at her, and his face had upon it in those first waking +moments of bewilderment a look that appalled her. For it was to +her as the face of a murderer. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE COST + +He did not speak in answer to her exclamation, merely stood there +looking at her, almost as if he had never seen her before. His +eyes were keen with a sort of icy fierceness. She thought she had +never before realized the cruelty of his mouth. + +It was she who spoke first. The silence seemed so impossible. +"Burke!" she said. "What--is the matter?" + +He came forward to her with an abruptness that was like the +breaking of bonds. He stopped in front of her, looking closely +into her face. "What are you doing here?" he said. + +In spite of herself she shrank, so terrible was his look. But she +was swift to master her weakness. She stood up to her full height, +facing him. "I have come to find Guy," she said. + +He threw a glance around; it was like the sweep of a rapier. "You +are waiting for him--here?" + +Again for a moment she was disconcerted. She felt the quick blood +rise to her forehead. "They told me he would come here," she said. + +He passed on, almost as if she had not spoken, but his eyes were +mercilessly upon her, marking her confusion. "What do you want +with him?" + +His words were like the snap of a steel rope. They made her flinch +by their very ruthlessness. She had sprung from sleep with +bewildered senses. She was not-prepared to do battle in her own +defence. + +She hesitated, and immediately his hand closed upon her shoulder. +It seemed to her that she had never known what anger could be like +before this moment. All the force of the man seemed to be gathered +together in one tremendous wave, menacing her. + +"Tell me what you want with him!" he said. + +She shuddered from head to foot as if she had been struck with a +scourge. "Burke! What do you mean?" she cried out desperately. +"You--you must be mad!" + +"Answer me!" he said. + +His hold was a grip. The ice in his eyes had turned to flame. Her +heart leapt and quivered within her like a wild thing fighting to +escape. + +"I--don't know what you mean," she panted. "I have done nothing +wrong. I came after him to--to try and bring him back." + +"Then why did you come secretly?" he said, + +She shrank from the intolerable inquisition of his eyes. "I wanted +to see him--alone," she said. + +"Why?" Again it was like the merciless cut of a scourge. She +caught her breath with a sharp sound that was almost a cry. + +"Why?" he reiterated. "Answer me! Answer me!" + +She did not answer him. She could not. And in the silence that +followed, it seemed to her that something within her--something +that had been Vitally wounded--struggled and died. + +"Look at me!" he said. + +She lifted an ashen face. His eyes held hers, and the torture of +his hell encompassed her also. + +"Tell me the truth!" he said. "I shall know if you lie. When did +you see him last?" + +She shook her head. "A long while ago. Ages ago. Before you left +the farm." + +The memory of his going, his touch, his smile went through her with +the words. She had a sickening sensation as of having been struck +over the heart. + +"Where did you spend last night?" he said. + +"At Ritzen." Her white lips seemed to speak mechanically. She +herself stood apart as it were, stunned beyond feeling. + +"You came here by rail---alone?" + +The voice of the inquisitor pierced her numbed sensibilities, +compelling--almost dictating--her answer. + +"Yes--alone." + +"You had arranged to meet here then?" + +Still the scourging continued, and she marvelled at herself, that +she felt so little. But feeling was coming back. She was waiting +for it, dreading it. + +She answered without conscious effort. "No--I came after him. He +doesn't know I am here." + +"And yet you are posing as his wife?" + +She felt that. It cut through her apathy irresistibly. A sharp +tremor went through her. "That," she said rather breathlessly, +"was a mistake." + +"It was." said Burke. "The greatest mistake of your life. It is a +pity you took the trouble to lie to me. The truth would have +served you better." He turned from her contemptuously with the +words, setting her free. + +For a moment the relief of his going was such that the intention +that lay behind it did not so much as occur to her. Then suddenly +it flashed upon her. He was going in search of Guy. + +In an instant her passivity was gone. The necessity for action +drove her forward. With a cry she sprang to the door before him, +and set herself against it. She could not let him go with that +look of the murderer in his eyes. + +"Burke!" she gasped. "Burke! What--are you going to do?" + +His lips parted a little, and she saw his teeth. "You shall hear +what I have done--afterwards," he said. "Let me pass!" + +But she barred his way. Her numbed senses were all awake now and +quivering. The very fact of physical effort seemed to have +restored to her the power to suffer. She stood before him, her +bosom heaving with great sobs that brought no tears or relief of +any sort to the anguish that tore her. + +"You--you can't pass," she said. "Not--not--like this! Burke, +listen! I swear to you--I swear----" + +"You needn't," he broke in. "A woman's oath, when it is her last +resource, is quite valueless. I will deal with you afterwards. +Let me pass!" + +The command was curt as a blow. But still she withstood him, +striving to still her agitation, striving with all her desperate +courage to face him and endure. + +"I will not!" she said, and with the words she stood up to her +full, slim height, thwarting him, making her last stand. + +His expression changed as he realized her defiance. She was +panting still, but there was no sign of yielding in her attitude. +She was girt for resistance to the utmost. + +There fell an awful pause--a silence which only her rapid breathing +disturbed. Her eyes were fixed on his. She must have seen the +change, but she dared it unflinching. There was no turning back +for her now. + +The man spoke at last, and his voice was absolutely quiet, dead +level. "You had better let me go," he said. + +She made a sharp movement, for there was that in the steel-cold +voice that sent terror to her heart. Was this Burke--the man upon +whose goodness she had leaned ever since she had come to this land +of strangers? Surely she had never met him before that moment! + +"Open that door!" he said. + +A great tremor went through her. She turned, the instinct to obey +urging her. But in the same instant the thought of Guy--Guy in +mortal danger--flashed across her. She paused for a second, making +a supreme effort, while every impulse fought in mad tumult within +her, crying to her to yield. Then, with a lightning twist of the +hand she turned the key and pulled it from the lock. For an +instant she held it in her hand, then with a half-strangled sound +she thrust it deep into her bosom. + +Her eyes shone like flames in her white face as she turned back to +him. "Perhaps you will believe me--now!" she said. + +He took a single step forward and caught, her by the wrists. +"Woman!" he said. "Do you know what you are doing?" + +The passion that blazed in his look appalled her. Yet some strange +force within her awoke as it were in answer to her need. She flung +fear aside. She had done the only thing possible, and she would +not look back. + +"You must believe me--now!" she panted. "You do believe me!" + +His hold became a grip, merciless, fierce, tightening upon her like +a dosing trap. "Why should I believe you?" he said, and there was +that in his voice that was harder to bear than his look. "Have I +any special reason for believing you? Have you ever given me one?" + +"You know me," she said, with a sinking heart. + +He uttered a scoffing sound too bitter to be called a laugh. "Do I +know you? Have I ever been as near to you as this devil who has +made himself notorious with Kaffir women for as long as he has been +out here?" + +She flinched momentarily from the stark cruelty of his words. But +she faced him still, faced him though every instinct of her +womanhood shrank with a dread unspeakable. + +"You know me," she said again. "You may not know me very well, but +you know me well enough for that." + +It was bravely spoken, but as she ceased to speak she felt her +strength begin to fail her. Her throat worked spasmodically, +convulsively, and a terrible tremor went through her. She saw him +as through a haze that blotted out all beside. + +There fell a silence between them--a dreadful, interminable silence +that seemed to stretch into eternities. And through it very +strangely she heard the wild beating of her own heart, like the +hoofs of a galloping horse, that seemed to die away. . . . + +She did not know whether she fell, or whether he lifted her, but +when the blinding mist cleared away again, she was lying in the +wicker-chair by the window, and he was walking up and down the room +with the ceaseless motion of a prowling animal. She sat up slowly +and looked at him. She was shivering all over, as if stricken with +cold. + +At her movement he came and stood before her, but he did not speak. +He seemed to be watching her. Or was he waiting for something? + +She could not tell; neither, as he stood there, could she look up +at him to see. Only, after a moment, she leaned forward. She +found and held his hand. + +"Burke!" she said. + +His fingers closed as if they would crush her own. He did not +utter a word. + +She waited for a space, gathering her strength. Then, speaking +almost under her breath, she went on. "I have--something to say to +you. Please will you listen--till I have finished?" + +"Go on!" he said. + +Her head was bent. She went on tremulously. "You are quite +right--when you say--that you don't know me--that I have given you +no reason--no good reason--to believe in me. I have taken--a great +deal from you. And I have given--nothing in return. I see that +now. That is why you distrust me. I--have only myself to thank." + +She paused a moment, but he waited in absolute silence, neither +helping nor hindering. + +With a painful effort she continued. "People make +mistaken--sometimes--without knowing it. It comes to them +afterwards--perhaps too late. But--it isn't too late with me, +Burke. I am your partner--your wife. And--I never meant +to--defraud you. All I have--is yours. I--am yours." + +She stopped. Her head was bowed against his hand. That dreadful +sobbing threatened to overwhelm her again, but she fought it down. +She waited quivering for his answer. + +But for many seconds Burke neither moved nor spoke. The grasp of +his hand was vicelike in its rigidity. She had no key whatever to +what was passing in his mind. + +Not till she had mastered herself and was sitting in absolute +stillness, did he stir. Then, very quietly, with a decision that +brooked no resistance, he took her by the chin with his free hand +and turned her face up to his own. He looked deep into her eyes. +His own were no longer ablaze, but a fitful light came and went in +them like the flare of a torch in the desert wind. + +"So," he said, and his voice was curiously unsteady also; it +vibrated as if he were not wholly sure of himself, "you have made +your choice--and counted the cost?" + +"Yes," she said. + +He looked with greater intentness into her eyes, searching without +mercy, as if he would force his way to her very soul. "And for +whose sake this--sacrifice?" he said. + +She shrank a little; for there was something intolerable in his +words. Had she really counted the cost? Her eyelids fluttered +under that unsparing look, fluttered and sank. "You will +know--some day," she whispered. + +"Ah! Some day!" he said. + +Again his voice vibrated. It was as if some door that led to his +innermost being had opened suddenly, releasing a savage, primitive +force which till then he had held restrained. + +And in that moment it came to her that the thing she valued most in +life had been rudely torn from her. She saw that new, most +precious gift of hers that had sprung to life in the wilderness and +which she had striven so desperately to shield from harm--that holy +thing which had become dearer to her than life itself--desecrated, +broken, and lying in the dust. And it was Burke who had flung it +there, Burke who now ruthlessly trampled it underfoot. + +Her throat worked again painfully for a moment or two; and then +with a great effort of the will she stilled it. This thing was +beyond tears--a cataclysm wrecking the whole structure of +existence. Neither tears nor laughter could ever be hers again. +In silence she took the cup of bitterness, and drank it to the +dregs. + + + + +PART IV + +CHAPTER I + +SAND OF THE DESERT + +Donovan Kelly was out of temper. There was no denying it, though +with him such a frame of mind was phenomenal. He leaned moodily +against the door-post at the hotel-entrance, smoking a short pipe +of very strong tobacco, and speaking to no one. He had been there +for some time, and the girl in the office was watching him with +eyes round with curiosity. For he had not even said "Good morning" +to her. She wanted to accost him, but somehow the hunch of his +shoulders was too discouraging even for her. So she contented +herself with waiting developments. + +There were plenty of men coming and going, but though several of +them gave him greeting as they passed, Kelly responded to none. He +seemed to be wrapped in a gloomy fog of meditation that cut him off +completely from the outside world. He was alone with himself, and +in that state he obviously intended to remain. + +But the girl in the office had her own shrewd suspicions as to the +reason of his waiting there, suspicions which after the lapse of +nearly half an hour she triumphantly saw verified. For presently +through the shifting, ever-changing crowd a square-shouldered man +made his appearance, and without a glance to right or left went +straight to the big Irishman lounging in the doorway, and took him +by the shoulder. + +Kelly started round with an instant smile of welcome. "Ah, and is +it yourself at last? I've been waiting a devil of a time for ye, +my son. Is all well?" + +The girl in the office did not hear Burke's reply though she craned +far forward to do so. She only saw his shoulders go up slightly, +and the next moment the two men turned and entered the public +dining-room together. + +Kelly's ill-temper had gone like an early morning fog. He led the +way to a table reserved in a corner, and they sat down. + +"I was half afraid ye wouldn't have anything but a kick for Donovan +this morning," he said, with a somewhat rueful smile. + +Burke's own brief smile showed for a moment. "I shouldn't start on +you anyway," he said. "You found young Guy?" + +Kelly made an expressive gesture. "Oh yes, I found him, him and +his master too. At Hoffstein's of course. Kieff was holding one +of his opium shows, the damn' dirty skunk. I couldn't get the boy +away, but I satisfied myself that he was innocent of this. He +never engaged a room here or had any intention of coming here. +What Kieff's intentions were I didn't enquire. But he had got the +devil's own grip on Guy last night, He could have made him +do--anything." Kelly ended with a few strong expressions which +left no doubt as to the opinion he entertained of Kieff and all his +works. + +Burke ate his breakfast in an absorbed silence. Finally he looked +up to enquire, "Have you any idea what has become of Guy this +morning?" + +Kelly shook his head. "Not the shadow of a notion. I shall look +for him presently on the racecourse. He seems to have found some +money to play with, for he told me he had taken two tickets for the +diamond draw, one for himself and one for another. But he was just +mad last night. The very devil had got into him. What will I do +with him if I get him?" + +Burke's eyes met his for a moment. "You can do--anything you like +with him," he said. + +"Ah, but he saved your life, Burke," said the Irishman pleadingly. +"It's only three days ago." + +"I know what he did," said Burke briefly, both before and after +that episode. "He may think himself lucky that I have no further +use for him." + +"But aren't you satisfied, Burke?" Kelly leaned forward +impulsively. "I've told you the truth. Aren't you satisfied?" + +Burke's face was grim as if hewn out of rock. "Not yet," he said. +"You've told me the truth--what you know of it. But there's more +to it. I've got to know--everything before I'm satisfied." + +"Ah, but sure!" protested Kelly. "Women are very queer, you know. +Ye can't tell what moves a woman. Often as not, it's something +quite different from what you'd think." + +Burke was silent, continuing his breakfast. + +Kelly looked at him with eyes of pathetic persuasion. "I've been +lambastin' meself all night," he burst forth suddenly, "for ever +bringing ye out on such a chase. It was foul work. I see it now. +She'd have come back to ye, Burke lad. She didn't mean any harm. +Sure, she's as pure as the stars." + +Burke's grey eyes, keen as the morning light, looked suddenly +straight at him. Almost under his breath, Burke spoke. "Don't +tell me--that!" he said. "Just keep Guy out of my way! That's +all." + +Kelly sighed aloud. "And Guy'll go to perdition faster than if the +devil had kicked him. He's on his way already." + +"Let him go!" said Burke. + +It was his last word on the subject. Having spoken it, he gave his +attention to the meal before him, and concluded it with a +deliberate disregard for Kelly's depressed countenance that an +onlooker might have found somewhat brutal. + +"What are you going to do?" asked Kelly meekly, as at length he +pushed back his chair. + +Burke's eyes came to him again. He smiled faintly at the woebegone +visage before him. "Cheer up, Donovan!" he said. "You're all +right. You've had a beastly job, but you've done it decently. I'm +going back to my wife now. She breakfasted upstairs. We shall +probably make tracks this evening." + +"Ah!" groaned Kelly. "Your wife'll never speak to me again after +this. And I thinking her the most charming woman in the world!" + +Burke turned to go, "Don't fret yourself on that account!" he said. +"My wife will treat my friends exactly as she would treat her own." + +He spoke with a confidence that aroused Kelly's admiration. "Sure, +you know how to manage a woman, don't ye, Burke, me lad?" he said. + +He watched the broad figure till it was out of sight, then got up +and went out into the hot sunshine, intent upon another quest. + +Burke went on steadily up the stairs till he reached the top story +where he met a servant carrying a breakfast-tray with the meal +practically untouched upon it. With a brief word Burke took the +tray himself, and went on with the same air of absolute purpose to +the door at the end of the passage. + +Here, just for a moment he paused, standing in semi-darkness, +listening. Then he knocked. Sylvia's voice answered him, and he +entered. + +She was dressed and standing by the window. "Oh, please, Burke!" +she said quickly, at sight of what he carried. "I can't eat +anything more." + +He set down the tray and looked at her. "Why did you get up?" he +said. + +Her face was flushed. There was unrest in every line of her. "I +had to get up," she said feverishly. "I can't rest here. It is so +noisy. I want to get out of this horrible place. I can't breathe +here. Besides--besides----" + +"Sit down!" said Burke. + +"Oh, don't make me eat anything!" she pleaded. "I really can't. I +am sorry, but really----" + +"Sit down!" he said again, and laid a steady hand upon her. + +She yielded with obvious reluctance, avoiding his eyes. "I am +quite all right," she said. "Don't bully me, partner!" + +Her voice quivered suddenly, and she put her hand to her throat. +Burke was pouring milk into a cap. She watched him, fighting with +herself. + +"Now," he said, "you can drink this anyway. It's what you're +needing." He gave her the cup, and she took it from him without a +word. He turned away, and stood at the window, waiting. + +At the end of a full minute, he spoke. "Has it gone?" + +"Yes," she said. + +He turned back and looked at her. She met his eyes with an effort. + +"I am quite all right," she said again. + +"Ready to start back?" he said. + +She leaned forward in her chair, her hands clasped very tightly in +front of her. "To-day?" she said in a low voice. + +"I thought you wanted to get away," said Burke. + +"Yes--yes, I do." Her eyes suddenly fell before his. "I do," she +said again. "But--but--I've got--something--to ask of you--first." + +"Well?" said Burke. + +Her breath came quickly; her fingers were straining against each +other. "I--don't quite know--how to say it," she said. + +Burke stood quite motionless, looking down at her. "Must it be +said?" he asked. + +"Yes." She sat for a moment or two, mustering her strength. Then, +with an abrupt effort, she got up and faced him. "Burke, I think I +have a right to your trust," she said. + +He looked straight back at her with piercing, relentless eyes. "If +we are going to talk of rights," he said, "I might claim a right to +your confidence." + +She drew back a little, involuntarily, but the next moment, +quickly, she went to him and clasped his arm between her hands. +"Please be generous, partner!" she said. "We won't talk of rights, +either of us. You--are not--angry with me now, are you?" + +He stiffened somewhat at her touch, but he did not repulse her. +"I'm afraid you won't find me in a very yielding mood," he said. + +She held his arm a little more tightly, albeit her hands were +trembling. "Won't you listen to me?" she said, in a voice that +quivered. "Is there--no possibility of--of--coming to an +understanding?" + +He drew a slow hard breath. "We have a very long way to go first," +he said. + +"I know," she answered, and her voice was quick with pain. "I +know. But--we can't go on--like this. It--just isn't bearable. +If--even if you can't understand me--Burke, won't you--won't you +try at least to give me--the benefit of the doubt?" + +It was very winningly spoken, but as she spoke she leaned her head +suddenly against the arm she held and stifled a sob. "For both our +sakes!" she whispered. + +But Burke stood, rigid as rock, staring straight before him into +the glaring sunlight. She did not know what was passing in his +mind; that was the trouble of it. But she felt his grim resistance +like a wall of granite, blocking her way. And the brave heart of +her sank in spite of all her courage. + +He moved at last, but it was a movement of constraint. He laid his +free hand on her shoulder. "Crying won't help," he said. "I think +we had better be getting back." + +And then, for the sake of the old love, she made her supreme +effort. She lifted her face; it was white to the lips, but it bore +no sign of tears. "I can't go," she said, "till--I have seen Guy." + +He made a sharp gesture. "Ah!" he said. "I thought that was +coming." + +"Yes, you knew it! You knew it!" Passionately she uttered the +words. "It's the one thing that's got to be settled between +us--the only thing left that counts. Yes, you mean to refuse. I +know that. But--before you refuse--wait, please wait! I am asking +it quite as much for your sake as for mine." + +"And for his," said Burke, with a twist of the lips more bitter +than the words. + +But she caught them up unflinching. "Yes, and for his. We've set +out to save him, you and I. And--we are not going to turn back. +Burke, I ask you to help me--I implore you to help me--in this +thing. You didn't refuse before." + +"I wish to Heaven I had!" he said, "I might have known how it would +end!" + +"No--no! And you owe him your life too. Don't forget that! He +saved you. Are you going to let him sink--after that?" She reached +up and held him by the shoulders, imploring him with all her soul. +"You can't do it! Oh, you can't do it!" she said. "It isn't--you." + +He looked at her with a certain doggedness. "Not your conception +of me perhaps," he said, and suddenly his arms closed about her +quivering form. "But--am I--the sort of man you have always taken +me to be? Tell me! Am I?" + +She turned her face aside, hiding it against his shoulder. "I +know--what you can be," she said faintly. + +"Yes." Grimly he answered her. "You've seen the ugly side of me +at last, and it's that that you are up against now." He paused a +moment, then very sombrely he ended. "I might force you to tell me +the whole truth of this business, but I shall not--simply because I +don't want to hear it now. I know very well he's been making love +to you, tempting you. But I am going to put the infernal matter +away, and forget it--as far as possible. We may never reach the +top of the world now, but we'll get out of this vile slough at any +cost. You won't find me hard to live with if you only play the +game,--and put that damned scoundrel out of your mind for good." + +"And do you think I shall ever be able to forgive you?" She lifted +her head with an unexpectedness that was almost startling. Her +eyes were alight, burning with a ruddy fire out of the whiteness of +her face. She spoke as she had never spoken before. It was as if +some strange force had entered into and possessed her. "Do you +think I shall ever forget--even if you do? Perhaps I am not enough +to you now to count in that way. You think--perhaps--that a slave +is all you want, and that partnership, comradeship, friendship, +doesn't count. You are willing to sacrifice all that now, and to +sacrifice him with it. But how will it be--afterwards? Will a +slave be any comfort to you when things go wrong--as they surely +will? Will it satisfy you to feel that my body is yours when my +soul is so utterly out of sympathy, out of touch, that I shall be +in spirit a complete stranger to you? Ah yes," her voice rang on a +deep note of conviction that could not be restrained--"you think +you won't care. But you will--you will. A time will come when you +will feel you would gladly give everything you possess to undo what +you are doing to-day. You will be sick at heart, lonely, +disillusioned, suspicious of me and of everybody. You will see the +horrible emptiness of it all, and you will yearn for better things. +But it will be too late then. What once we fling away never comes +again to us. We shall be too far apart by that time, too +hopelessly estranged, ever to be more to each other than what we +are at this moment--master and slave. Through all our lives we +shall never be more than that." + +She ceased to speak, and the fire went out of her eyes. She +drooped in his hold as if all her strength had gone from her. + +He turned and put her steadily down into the chair again. He had +heard her out without a sign of emotion, and he betrayed none then. +He did not speak a word. But his silence said more to her than +speech. It was as the beginning of a silence which was to last +between them for as long as they lived. + +She sank back exhausted with closed eyes. The struggle--that long, +fierce battle for Guy's soul--was over. And she had failed. Her +prayers had been in vain. All her desperate effort had been +fruitless, and nothing seemed to matter any more. She told herself +that she would never be able to pray again. Her faith had died in +the mortal combat. And there was nothing left to pray for. She +was tired to the very soul of her, tired unto death; but she knew +she would not die. For death was rest, and there could be no rest +for her until the days of her slavery were accomplished. The sand +of the desert would henceforth be her portion. The taste of it was +in her mouth. The desolation of it encompassed her spirit. + +Two scalding tears forced their way through her closed lids and ran +down her white cheeks. She did not stir to wipe them away. She +hoped he did not see them. They were the only tears she shed. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE SKELETON TREE + +"Ah, Mrs. Burke, and is it yourself that I see again? Sure, and +it's a very great pleasure!" Kelly, his face crimson with +embarrassment and good-will, took the hand Sylvia offered and held +it hard. "A very great pleasure!" he reiterated impressively, +before he let it go. + +She smiled at him as one smiles at a shy child. "Thank you, Mr. +Kelly," she said. + +"Ah, but you'll call me Donovan," he said persuasively, "the same +as everyone else! So you've come to Brennerstadt after all! And +is it the diamond ye're after?" + +She shook her head. They were standing on a balcony that led out +of the public smoking-room, an awning over their heads and the open +street at their feet. It was from the street that he had spied +her, and the sight of her piteous, white face with its deeply +shadowed eyes had gone straight to his impulsive Irish heart. +"No," she said. "We are not bothering about the diamond. I think +we shall probably start back to Ritzen to-night." + +"Ah now, ye might stay one day longer and try your luck," wheedled +the Irishman. "The Fates would be sure to favour ye. Where's +himself?" + +"I don't know." She spoke very wearily. "He left me here to rest. +But it's so dusty--and airless--and noisy." + +Kelly gave her a swift, keen look. "Come for a ride!" he said. + +"A ride!" She raised her heavy eyes with a momentary eagerness, but +it was gone instantly. "He--might not like me to go," she said. +"Besides, I haven't a horse." + +"That's soon remedied," said Kelly. "I've got a lamb of a horse to +carry ye. And he wouldn't care what ye did in my company. He +knows me. Leave him a note and come along! He'll understand. +It's a good gallop that ye're wanting. Come along and get it!" + +Kelly could be quite irresistible when he chose, and he had +evidently made up his mind to comfort the girl's forlornness so far +as in him lay. She yielded to him with the air of being too +indifferent to do otherwise. But Kelly had seen that moment's +eagerness, and he built on that. + +A quarter of an hour later they met again in the sweltering street, +and he complimented her in true Irish fashion upon the rose-flush +in her cheeks. He saw that she looked about uneasily as she +mounted, but with unusual tact he omitted to comment upon the fact. + +The sun was slanting towards the west as they rode away. The +streets were crowded, but Kelly knew all the short cuts, and guided +her unerringly till they reached the edge of the open _veldt_. + +Then, "Come along!" he cried. "Let's gallop!" + +The sand flew out behind them, the parched air rushed by, and the +blood quickened in Sylvia's veins. She felt as if she had left an +overwhelming burden behind her in the town. The great open spaces +drew her with their freedom and their vastness. She went with the +flight of a bird. It was like the awakening from a dreadful dream. + +They drew rein in the shadow of a tall _kopje_ that rose abruptly +from the plain like a guardian of the solitudes. Kelly was +laughing with a boy's hearty merriment. + +"Faith, but ye can ride!" he cried, with keen appreciation, "Never +saw a prettier spectacle in me life. Was it born in the saddle ye +were?" + +She laughed in answer, but her heart gave a quick throb of pain. +It was the first real twinge of homesickness she had known, and for +a moment it was almost intolerable. Ah, the fresh-turned earth and +the shining furrows, and the sweet spring rain in her face! And +the sun of the early morning that shone through a scud of clouds! + +"My father and I used to ride to hounds," she said. "We loved it." + +"I've done it meself in the old country," said Kelly. "But ye can +ride farther here. There's more room before ye reach the horizon." + +Sylvia stifled a quick sigh. "Yes, it's a fine country. At least +it ought to be. Yet I sometimes feel as if there is something +lacking. I don't know quite what it is, but it's the quality that +makes one feel at home." + +"That'll come," said Kelly, with confidence. "You wait till the +spring! That gets into your veins like wine. Ye'll feel the magic +of it then. It's life itself." + +Sylvia turned her face up to the brazen sky. "I must wait for the +spring then," she said, half to herself. And then very suddenly +she became aware of the kindly curiosity of her companion's survey +and met it with a slight heightening of colour. + +There was a brief silence before, in a low voice, she said, "We +can't--all of us--afford to wait." + +"You can," said Kelly promptly. + +She shook her head. "I don't think by the time the spring comes +that there will be much left worth having." + +"Ah, but ye don't know," said Kelly. "You say that because you +can't see all the flowers that are hiding down below. But you +might as well believe in 'em all the same, for they're there all +right, and they'll come up quick enough when God gives the word." + +Sylvia looked around her over the barren land. "Are there flowers +here?" she said. + +"Millions," said Kelly. "Millions and millions. Why, if you were +to come along here in a few weeks' time ye'd be trampling them +underfoot they'd be so thick, such flowers as only grow here, on +the top of the world." + +"The top of the world!" She looked at him as if startled. "Is that +what you call--this place?" + +He laughed. "Ye don't believe me! Well, wait--wait and see!" + +She turned her horse's head, and began to walk round the _kopje_. +Kelly kept pace beside her. He was not quite so talkative as +usual, but it was with obvious effort that he restrained himself, +for several times words sprang to his eager lips which he swallowed +unuttered. He seemed determined that the next choice of a subject +should be hers. + +And after a few moments he was rewarded. Sylvia spoke. + +"Mr. Kelly!" + +"Sure, at your service--now and always!" he responded with a warmth +that no amount of self-restraint could conceal. + +She turned towards him. "You have been very kind to me, and I +want--I should like--to tell you something. But it's something +very, very private. Will you--will you promise me----" + +"Sure and I will!" vowed the Irishman instantly. "I'll swear the +solemn oath if it'll make ye any happier." + +"No, you needn't do that." She held out her hand to him with a +gesture that was girlishly impulsive. "I know I can trust you. +And I feel you will understand. It's about--Guy." + +"Ah, there now! Didn't I know it?" said Kelly. He held her hand +tight for a moment, looking into her eyes, his own brimful of +sympathy. + +"Yes. You know--all about him." She spoke with some hesitation +notwithstanding. "You know---just as I do--that he isn't--isn't +really bad; only--only so hopelessly weak." + +There was a little quiver in her voice as she said the words. She +looked at him with appeal in her eyes. + +"I know," said Kelly. + +With a slight effort she went on. "He--Burke--thinks otherwise. +And because of that, he won't let me see Guy again. He is very +angry with me--I doubt if he will ever really forgive me--for +following Guy to this place. But,--Mr. Kelly,--I had a reason--an +urgent reason for doing this. I hoped to be back again before he +found out; but everything was against me." + +"Ah! Didn't I know it?" said Kelly. "It's the way of the world in +an emergency. Nothing ever goes right of itself." + +She smiled rather wanly. "Life can be--rather cruel," she said. +"Something is working against me. I can feel it. I have forfeited +all Burke's respect and his confidence at a stroke. He will never +trust me again. And Guy--Guy will simply go under." + +"No--no!" said Kelly. "Don't you believe it! He'll come round and +lead a decent life after this; you'll see. There's nothing +whatever to worry about over Guy. No real vice in him!" + +It was a kindly lie, stoutly spoken; but it failed to convince. +Sylvia shook her head even while, he was speaking. + +"You don't know all yet. I haven't told you. But I will tell +you--if you will listen. Once when Burke and I were talking of +Guy--it was almost the first time--he said that he had done almost +everything bad except one thing. He had never robbed him. And +somehow I felt that so long as there was that one great exception +he would not regard him as utterly beyond redemption. But now--but +now--" her voice quivered again--"well, even that can't be said of +him now," she said. + +"What? He has taken money?" Kelly looked at her in swift dismay. +"Ye don't mean that!" he said. And then quickly: "Are ye sure now +it wasn't Kieff?" + +"Yes." She spoke with dreary conviction. "I am fairly sure +Kieff's at the back of it, but--it was Guy who did it, thanks to my +carelessness." + +"Yours!" Kelly's eyes bulged. "Ye don't mean that!" he said again. + +"Yes, it's true." Drearily she answered him. "Burke left the key +of the strong-box in my keeping on the day of the sand-storm. I +dropped it in the dark. I was hunting for it when you came. +Then--I forgot it. Afterwards, you remember, Burke and Guy came in +together. He must have found it--somehow--then." + +"He did!" said Kelly suddenly. "Faith, he did! Ye remember when +he had that attack? He picked up something then--on the floor +against his foot. I saw him do it, the fool that I am! He'd got +it in his hand when we helped him up, and I never noticed,--never +thought. The artful young devil!" + +A hint of admiration sounded in his voice. Kelly the simple-minded +had ever been an admirer of art. + +Sylvia went on very wearily. "The box was kept in a cupboard in +the room he was sleeping in. The rest was quite easy. He left the +key behind him in the lock. I found it after you and Burke had +gone to the Merstons'. I guessed what had happened of course. I +went round to his hut, but it was all fastened up as usual. Then I +went to Piet Vreiboom's." She shuddered suddenly. "I saw Kieff as +well as Vreiboom. They seemed hugely amused at my appearance, and +told me Guy was just ahead on the way to Brennerstadt. It was too +late to ride the whole way, so I went to Ritzen, hoping to find him +there. But I could get no news of him, so I came on by train in +the morning. I ought to have got here long ago, but the engine +broke down. We were held up for hours, and so I arrived--too late." + +The utter dreariness of her speech went straight to Kelly's heart. +"Ah, there now--there now!" he said. "If I'd only known I'd have +followed and helped ye that night." + +"You see, I didn't know you were coming back," she said. "And +anyhow I couldn't have waited. I had to start at once. It was--my +job." She smiled faintly, a smile that was sadder than tears. + +"And do ye know what happened?" said Kelly. "Did Burke tell ye +what happened?" + +She shook her head. "No. He told me very little. I suppose he +concluded that we had run away together." + +"Ah no! That wasn't his doing," said Kelly, paused a moment, then +plunged valiantly at the truth. "That was mine. I thought so +meself--foul swine as ye may very well call me. Kieff told me +so--the liar; and I--like a blasted fool--believed it. At least, +no, I didn't right at the heart of me, Mrs. Ranger. I knew what ye +were, just the same as I know now. But I'd seen ye look into his +eyes when ye begged him off the brandy-bottle, and I knew the +friendship between ye wasn't just the ordinary style of thing; no +more is it. But it was that devil Kieff that threw the mud. I +found him waiting that night when I got back. He was waiting for +Burke, he said; and his story was that he and Vreiboom had seen the +pair of ye eloping. I nearly murdered him at the time. Faith, I +wish I had!" ended Kelly pathetically, with tears in his eyes. "It +would have stopped a deal of mischief both now and hereafter." + +"Never mind!" said Sylvia gently. "You couldn't tell. You hadn't +known me more than a few hours." + +"It was long enough!" vowed Kelly. "Anyway, Burke ought to have +known better. He's known you longer than that." + +"He has never known me," she said quietly. "Of course he believed +the story." + +"He doesn't believe it now," said Kelly quickly. + +A little quiver went over her face. "Perhaps not. I don't know +what he believes, or what he will believe when he finds the money +gone. That is what I want to prevent--if only I can prevent it. +It is Guy's only chance. What he did was done wickedly enough, but +it was at a time of great excitement, when he was not altogether +master of himself. But unless it can be undone, he will go right +down--and never come up again. Oh, don't you see--" a sudden throb +sounded in her tired voice--"that if once Burke knows of this, +Guy's fate is sealed? There is no one else to help him. +Besides,--it wasn't all his own doing. It was Kieff's. And away +from Kieff, he is so different." + +"Ah! But how to get him away from Kieff!" said Kelly. "The +fellow's such a damn' blackguard. Once he takes hold, he never +lets go till he's got his victim sucked dry." + +Sylvia shuddered. "Can't you do anything?" she said. + +Kelly looked at her with his honest kindly eyes, "If it were me, +Mrs. Ranger," he said, "I should tell me husband the whole +truth--and--let him deal with it." + +She shook her head instantly. "It would be the end of everything +for Guy. Even if Burke let him off, he could never come back to +us. It would be as bad as sending him to prison--or even worse." + +"Not it!" said Kelly. "You don't trust Burke. It's a pity. He's +such a fine chap. But look here, I'll do me best, I'll get hold of +young Guy and make him disgorge. How much did the young ruffian +take?" + +"I don't know. That's the hopeless part of it. That is why I must +see him myself." + +Kelly pursed his lips for a moment, but the next he smiled upon +her, "All right. I'll manage somehow. But you mustn't go +to-night. You tell Burke you're too tired. He'll understand." + +"Do you know where Guy is?" she said. + +"Oh yes, I can put me hand on the young divil if I want him. You +leave that to me! I'll do me best all round. Now--suppose we have +another trot, and then go back!" + +Sylvia turned her horse's head. "I'm--deeply grateful to you, Mr. +Kelly," she said. + +"Donovan!" insinuated Kelly. + +She smiled a little. She seemed almost more piteous to him when +she smiled. "Donovan," she said. + +"Ah, that's better!" he declared. "That does me good. To be a +friend of both of ye is what I want. Burke and you together! +Ye're such a fine pair, and just made for each other, faith, made +for each other. When I saw you, Mrs. Burke, I didn't wonder that +he'd fallen in love at last. I give ye me word, I didn't. And +I'll never forget the look on his face when he thought he'd lost +ye; never as long as I live. It--it was as if he'd been stabbed to +the heart." + +Tactless, clumsy, sentimental, he sought to pour balm upon the +wounded spirit of this girl with her tragic eyes that should have +held only the glad sunshine of youth. It hurt him to see her thus, +hurt him unspeakably, and he knew himself powerless to comfort. +Yet with that odd womanly tenderness of his, he did his best. + +He wondered what she was thinking of as she sat her horse, gazing +out over the wide spaces, so wearily and yet so intently. She did +not seem to have heard his last remarks, or was that merely the +impression she desired to convey? A vague uneasiness took +possession of him. He did not like her to look like that. + +"Shall we move on?" he said gently. + +She pointed suddenly across the _veldt_. "I want to ride as far as +that skeleton tree," she said. "Don't come with me! I shall catch +you up if you ride slowly." + +"Right!" said Kelly, and watched her lift her bridle and ride away. + +He would have done anything to oblige her just then; but his +curiosity was whetted to a keen edge. For she rode swiftly, as one +who had a definite aim in view. Straight as an arrow across the +_veldt_ she went to the skeleton tree with its stripped trunk and +stark, outflung arms that seemed the very incarnation of the +barrenness around. + +Here she checked her animal, and sat for a moment with closed eyes, +the evening sunlight pouring over her. Very strangely she was +trembling from head to foot, as if in the presence of a vision upon +which she dared not look. She had returned as she had always meant +to return--but ah, the dreary desert spaces and the cruel roughness +of the road! Her husband's words uttered only a few hours before +came back upon her as she stood there. "We may never reach the top +of the world now," No, they would never reach it. Had anyone ever +done so, she wondered drearily? But yet they had been near it +once--nearer than many. Did that count for nothing? + +It seemed to her that aeons had passed over her since last she had +stood beneath that tree. She had been a girl then, ardent and full +of courage. Now she was a woman, old and very tired, and there was +nothing left in life. It was almost as if she had ceased to live. + +But yet she had come back to the starting-point, and here, as if +standing beside a grave and reading the inscription to one long +dead, she opened her eyes in the last glow of the sunshine to read +the words which Burke had cut into the bare wood on the evening of +his wedding-day. She remembered how she had waited for him, the +tumult of doubt, of misgiving, in her soul, how she had wished he +would not linger in that desolate place. Now, out of the midst of +a desolation to which this sandy waste was as nothing, she searched +with almost a feeling of awe as one about to read a message from +the dead. + +The bare, bleached trunk of the tree shone strangely in the sinking +sun, faintly tinted with rose. The world all around her was +changing; slowly, imperceptibly, changing. A tender lilac glow was +creeping over the _veldt_. A curious sensation came upon Sylvia, +as if she were moving in a dream, as if she were stepping into a +new world and the old had fallen from her. The bitterness had +lifted from her spirit. Her heart beat faster. She was a +treasure-seeker on the verge of a great discovery. Trembling, she +lifted her eyes. . . . + +There on the smooth wood, like a scroll upon a marble pillar, were +words, rough-hewn but unmistakable--_Fide et Amore_. . . . + +It was as if a voice had spoken in her soul, a dear, insistent +voice, bidding her begone. She obeyed, scarcely knowing what she +did. Back across the dusty _veldt_ she rode, moving as one in a +trance. She joined the Irishman waiting for her, but she looked at +him with eyes that saw not. + +"Well?" he said, frankly curious. "Did you find anything?" + +She started a little, and came out of her dream. "I found what I +was looking for," she said. + +"What was it?" Kelly was keenly interested; there was no checking +him now, he was like a hound on the scent. + +She did not resent his questions. That was Kelly's privilege. But +neither did she answer him as fully as he could have wished. "I +found out," she said slowly, after a moment, "how to get to the top +of the world." + +"Ah, really now!" said Kelly, opening his eyes to their widest +extent. "And are ye going to pack your bag and go?" + +She smiled very faintly, looking, straight before her. "No. It's +too late now," she said. "I've missed the way. So has Burke." + +"But ye'll try again--ye'll try again!" urged Kelly, eager as a +child for the happy ending of a fairy-tale. + +She shook her head. Her lips were quivering, but still she made +them smile. "Not that way. I am afraid it's barred," she said, +and with the words she touched her horse with her heel and rode +quickly forward towards the town. + +Donovan followed her with a rueful countenance. There were times +when even he felt discouraged with the world. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE PUNISHMENT + +"Good evening, Mrs. Ranger!" + +Sylvia started at the sound of a cool, detached voice as she +re-entered the hotel. Two eyes, black as onyx and as +expressionless, looked coldly into hers. A chill shudder ran +through her. She glanced instinctively back at Kelly, who came +forward instantly in his bulky, protective fashion. + +"Hullo, Kieff! What are you doing here? Gambling for the diamond?" + +"I?" said Kieff, with a stretching of his thin, colourless lips +that was scarcely a smile. "I don't gamble for diamonds, my good +Kelly. Well, Mrs. Ranger, I hope you had a pleasant journey here." + +"He gambles for souls," was the thought in Sylvia's mind, as with a +quick effort she controlled herself and passed on in icy silence. +She would never voluntarily speak to Kieff again. He was an open +enemy; and she turned from him with the same loathing that she +would have shown for a reptile in her path. + +His laugh--that horrible, slippery sound--followed her. He said +something in Dutch to the man who lounged beside him, and at once +another laugh--Piet Vreiboom's--bellowed forth like the blare of a +bull. She flinched in spite of herself. Every nerve shrank. Yet +the next moment, superbly, she wheeled and faced them. There was +something intolerable in that laughter, something that stung her +beyond endurance. + +"Tell me," she commanded Kelly, "tell me what +these--gentlemen--find about me to laugh at!" + +Her face was white as death, but her eyes shone red as leaping +flame. She was terrible in that moment--terrible as a lioness at +bay--and the laughter died. Piet Vreiboom slunk a little back, his +low brows working uneasily. + +Kelly swallowed an oath in his throat; his hands were clenched. +But Kieff, in a voice smooth as oil, made ready, mocking answer. + +"Oh, not at you, madam! Heaven forbid! What could any man find to +smile at in such a model of virtuous propriety as yourself?" + +He was baiting her openly, and she knew it. An awful wave of anger +surged through her brain, such anger as had never before possessed +her. For the moment she felt sick, as if she had drunk of some +overpowering drug. He meant to humiliate her publicly. She +realized it in a flash. And she was powerless to prevent it. +Whether she went or whether she stayed, he would accomplish his +end. Among all the strange faces that stared at her, only Kelly's, +worried and perplexed, betrayed the smallest concern upon her +account. And he, since her unexpected action, had been obviously +at a loss as to how to deal with the situation or with her. +Single-handed, he would have faced the pack; but with her at his +side he was hopelessly hampered, afraid of blundering and making +matters worse. + +"Ah, come away!" he muttered to her. "It's not the place for ye at +all. They're hogs and swine, the lot of 'em. Don't ye be drawn by +the likes of them!" + +But she stood her ground, for there was hot blood in Sylvia and a +fierce pride that would not tamely suffer outrage. Moreover, she +had been wounded cruelly, and the desire for vengeance welled up +furiously within her. Now that she stood in the presence of her +enemy, the impulse to strike back, however futile the blow, urged +her and would not be denied. + +She confronted Saul Kieff with tense determination. "You will +either repeat--and explain--what you said to your friend regarding +me just now," she said, in tones that rang fearlessly, echoing +through the crowded place, "or you will admit yourself a +contemptible coward for vilely slandering a woman whom you know to +be defenceless!" + +It was regally spoken. She stood splendidly erect, facing him, +withering him from head to foot with the scorching fire of her +scorn. A murmur of sympathy went through the rough crowd of men +gathered before her. One or two cursed Kieff in a growling +undertone. But Kieff himself remained absolutely unmoved. He was +smoking a cigarette and he inhaled several deep breaths before he +replied to her challenge. Then, with his basilisk eyes fixed +immovably upon her, as it were clinging to her, he made his deadly +answer: "I will certainly tell you what I said, madam, since you +desire it. But the explanation is one which surely only you can +give. I said to my friend, 'There goes the wife of the Rangers.' +Did I make a mistake?" + +"Yes, you damned hound, you did!" The voice that uttered the words +came from the door that led into the office. Burke Ranger swung +suddenly out upon them, moving with a kind of massive force that +carried purpose in every line. Men drew themselves together as he +passed them with the instinctive impulse to leave his progress +unimpeded; for this man would have forced his way past every +obstacle at that moment. He went straight for his objective +without a glance to right or left. + +Sylvia started back at his coming. That which her enemy could not +do was accomplished by her husband by neither word nor look. The +regal poise went out of her bearing. She shrank against Kelly as +if seeking refuge. For she had seen Burke's eyes, as she had seen +them the night before; and they were glittering with the lust for +blood. They were the eyes of a murderer. + +Straight to Kieff he came, and Kieff waited for him, quite +motionless, with thin lips drawn back, showing a snarling gleam of +teeth. But just as Burke reached him he moved. His right arm shot +forth with a serpentine ferocity, and in a flash the muzzle of a +revolver gleamed between them. + +"Hands up, if you please, Mr. Ranger!" he said smoothly. "We shall +talk better that way." + +But for once in his life he had made a miscalculation, and the next +instant he realized it. He had reckoned without the blunderer +Kelly. For a fierce oath broke from the Irishman at sight of the +weapon, and in the same second he beat it down with the stock of +his riding-whip with a force that struck it out of Kieff's grasp. +It spun along the floor to Sylvia's feet, and she stooped and +snatched it up. + +Burke did not so much as glance round. He had Kieff by the collar +of his coat, and the fate of the revolver was obviously a matter of +no importance to him. "Give me that horse-whip of yours, Donovan!" +he said, + +Kelly complied with the childlike obedience he invariably yielded +to Burke. Then he fell back to Sylvia, and very gently took the +revolver out of her clenched hand. + +She looked at him, her eyes wide, terror-stricken. "He will kill +him!" she said, in a voiceless whisper. + +"Not a bit of it," said Kelly, and put his arm around her. "These +poisonous vermin don't die so easy. Pity they don't." + +And then began the most terrible scene that Sylvia had ever looked +upon. No one intervened between Burke and his victim. There was +even a look of brutal satisfaction upon some of the faces around. +Piet Vreiboom openly gloated, as if he were gazing upon a spectacle +of rare delight. + +And Burke thrashed Kieff, thrashed him with all the weight of his +manhood's strength, forced him staggering up and down the open +space that had been cleared for that awful reckoning, making a +public show of him, displaying him to every man present as a +crawling, contemptible thing that not one of them would have owned +as friend. It was a ghastly chastisement, made deadly by the +hatred that backed it. Kieff writhed this way and that, but he +never escaped the swinging blows. They followed him +mercilessly,--all the more mercilessly for his struggles. His coat +tore out at the seams and was ripped to rags. And still Burke +thrashed him, his face grim and terrible and his eyes shot red and +gleaming--as the eyes of a murderer. + +In the end Kieff stumbled and pitched forward upon his knees, his +arms sprawling helplessly out before him. It was characteristic of +the man that he had not uttered a sound; only as Burke stayed his +hand his breathing came with a whistling noise through the tense +silence, as of a wounded animal brought to earth. His face was +grey. + +Burke held him so for a few seconds, then deliberately dropped the +horse-whip and grasped him with both hands, lifting him. Kieff's +head was sunk forward. He looked as if he would faint. But +inexorably Burke dragged him to his feet and turned him till he +stood before Sylvia. + +She was leaning against Kelly with her hands over her face. +Relentlessly Burke's voice broke the silence. + +"Now," he said briefly, "you will apologize to my wife for +insulting her." + +She uncovered her face and raised it. There was shrinking horror +in her look. "Oh, Burke!" she said. "Let him go!" + +"You will--apologize," Burke said again very insistently, with +pitiless distinctness. + +There was a dreadful pause. Kieff's breathing was less laboured, +but it was painfully uneven and broken. His lips twitched +convulsively. They seemed to be trying to form words, but no words +came. + +Burke waited, and several seconds dragged away. Then suddenly from +the door of the office the girl who had received Sylvia the +previous evening emerged. + +She carried a glass. "Here you are!" she said curtly. "Give him +this!" + +There was neither pity nor horror in her look. Her eyes dwelt upon +Burke with undisguised admiration. + +"You've given him a good dose this time," she remarked. "Serve him +right--the dirty hound! Hope it'll be a lesson to the rest of +'em," and she shot a glance at Piet Vreiboom which was more +eloquent than words. + +She held the glass to Kieff's lips with a contemptuous air, and +when he had drunk she emptied the dregs upon the floor and marched +back into the office. + +"Now," Burke said again, "you will apologize." + +And so at last in a voice so low as to be barely audible, Saul +Kieff, from whose sneer all women shrank as from the sting of a +scorpion, made unreserved apology to the girl he had plotted to +ruin. At Burke's behest he withdrew the vile calumny he had +launched against her, and he expressed his formal regret for the +malice that had prompted it. + +When Burke let him go, no one attempted to offer him help. There +was probably not a man present from whom he would have accepted it. +He slunk away like a wounded beast, staggering, but obviously +intent upon escape, and the gathering shadows of the coming night +received him. + +A murmur as of relief ran round the circle of spectators he left +behind, and in a moment, as it were automatically, the general +attention was turned upon Sylvia. She was still leaning against +Kelly, her death-white face fixed and rigid. Her eyes were closed. + +Burke went to her. "Come!" he said. "We will go up." + +Her eyes opened. She looked straight at him, seeing none beside. +"Was that how you treated Guy?" she said. + +He laid an imperative hand upon her. "Come!" he said again. + +She made a movement as though to evade him, and then suddenly she +faltered. Her eyes grew wide and dark. She threw out her hands +with a groping gesture as if stricken blind, and fell straight +forward. + +Burke caught her, held her for a moment; then as she sank in his +arms he lifted her, and bore her away. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE EVIL THING + +When Sylvia opened her eyes again she was lying in the chair by the +open window where she had waited so long the previous evening. Her +first impression was that she was alone, and then with a sudden +stabbing sense of fear she realized Burke's presence. + +He was standing slightly behind her, so that the air might reach +her, but leaning forward, watching her intently. With a gasp she +looked up into his eyes. + +He put his hand instantly upon her, reassuring her. "All right. +It's all right," he said. + +Both tone and touch were absolutely gentle, but she shrank from +him, shrank and quivered with a nervous repugnance that she was +powerless to control. He took his hand away and turned aside. + +She spoke then, her voice quick and agitated. "Don't go! Please +don't go!" + +He came and stood in front of her, and she saw that his face was +grim. "What is the matter?" he said. "Surely you don't object to +a serpent like that getting his deserts for once!" + +She met his look with an effort. "Oh, it's not that--not that!" +she said. + +"What then? You object to me being the executioner?" He spoke +curtly, through lips that had a faintly cynical twist. + +She could not answer him; only after a moment she sat up, holding +to the arms of the chair. "Forgive me for being foolish!" she +said. "I--you gave me--rather a fright, you know. I've never seen +you--like that before. I felt--it was a horrible feeling--as if +you were a stranger. But--of course--you are you--just the same. +You are--really--you." + +She faltered over the words, his look was so stern, so forbidding. +She seemed to be trying to convince herself against her own +judgment. + +His eyes met hers relentlessly. "Yes, I am myself--and no one +else," he said. "I fancy you have never quite realized me before. +Possibly you have deliberately blinded yourself. But you know me +now, and it is as well that you should. It is the only way to an +ultimate understanding." + +She blenched a little in spite of herself. "And you--and +you--once--thrashed--Guy," she said, her voice very low, sunk +almost to a whisper. "Was it--was it--was it like--that?" + +He turned sharply away as if there were something intolerable in +the question. He went to the window and stood there in silence. +And very oddly at that moment the memory of Kelly's assurance went +through her that he had been fond of Guy. She did not believe it, +yet just for the moment it influenced her. It gave her strength. +She got up, and went to his side. + +"Burke," she said tremulously, "promise me--please promise me--that +you will never do that again!" + +He gave her a brief, piercing glance. "If he keeps out of my way, +I shan't run after him," he said. + +"No--no! But even if he doesn't--" she clasped her hands hard +together--"Burke, even if he doesn't--and even though he has +disappointed you--wronged you--oh, have you no pity? Can't +you--possibly--forgive?" + +He turned abruptly and faced her. "Forgive him for making love to +you?" he said. "Is that what you are asking?" + +She shivered at the question. "At least you won't--punish him like +that--whatever he has done," she said. + +He was looking full at her. "You want my promise on that?" he said. + +"Yes, oh yes." Very earnestly she made reply though his eyes were +as points of steel, keeping her back. "I know you will keep a +promise. Please--promise me that!" + +"Yes," he said drily. "I keep my promises. He can testify to +that. So can you. But if I promise you this, you must make me a +promise too." + +"What is it?" she said. + +"Simply that you will never have anything more to do with him +without my knowledge--and consent." He uttered the words with the +same pitiless distinctness as had characterized his speech when +dictating to Kieff. + +She drew sharply. "Oh, but why--why ask such a promise of me when +you have only just proved your own belief in me?" + +"How have I done that?" he said. + +"By taking my part before all those horrible men downstairs." She +suppressed a hard shudder. "By--defending my honour." + +Burke's face remained immovable. "I was defending my own," he +said. "I should have done that--in any case." + +She made a little hopeless movement with her hands and dropped them +to her sides. "Oh, how hard you are!" she said, "How hard--and how +cruel!" + +He lifted his shoulders slightly, and turned away in silence. +Perhaps there was more of forbearance in that silence than she +realized. + +He did not ask her where she had been with Kelly or comment upon +the fact that she had been out at all. Only after a brief pause he +told her that they would not leave till the following day as he had +some business to attend to. Then to her relief he left her. At +least he had promised that he would not go in search of Guy! + +Later in the evening, a small packet was brought to her which she +found to contain some money in notes wrapped in a slip of paper on +which was scrawled a few words. + +"I have done my best with young G., but he is rather out of hand +for the present. I enclose the 'loan.' Just put it back, and +don't worry any more. Yours, D. K." + +She put the packet away with a great relief at her heart. That +danger then, had been averted. There yet remained a chance for +Guy. He was not--still he was not--quite beyond redemption. If +only--ah, if only--she could have gone to Burke with the whole +story! But Burke had become a stranger to her. She had begun to +wonder if she had ever really known him. His implacability +frightened her almost more than his terrible vindictiveness. She +felt that she could never again turn to him with confidence. + +That silence that lay between them was like an ever-widening gulf +severing them ever more and more completely. She believed that +they would remain strangers for the rest of their lives. Very +curiously, those three words which she had read upon the tree +served to strengthen this conviction. They were, indeed, to her as +a message from the dead. The man who had written them had ceased +to exist. Guy might have written them in the old days, but his +likeness to Guy was no more. She saw them both now with a +distinctness that was almost cruel--the utter weakness of the one, +the merciless strength of the other. And in the bitterness of her +soul she marvelled that either of them had ever managed to reach +her heart. + +That could never be so again, so she told herself. The power to +love had been wrested from her. The object of her love had turned +into a monstrous demon of jealousy from which now she shrank more +and more--though she might never escape. Yes, she had loved them +both, and still her compassion lingered pitifully around the +thought of Guy. But for Burke she had only a shrinking that almost +amounted to aversion. He had slain her love. She even believed +she was beginning to hate him. + +She dreaded the prospect of another long day spent at Brennerstadt. +It was the day of the diamond draw, too. The place would be a +seething tumult. She was so unutterably tired. She thought with a +weary longing of Blue Hill Farm. At least she would find a measure +of peace there, though healing were denied her. This place had +become hateful to her, an inferno of vice and destruction. She +yearned to leave it. + +Something of this yearning she betrayed on the following morning +when Burke told her that he was making arrangements to leave by the +evening train for Ritzen. + +"Can't we go sooner?" she said. + +He looked at her as if surprised by the question. "There is a +train at midday," he said. "But it is not a good time for +travelling." + +"Oh, let us take it!" she said feverishly. "Please let us take it! +We might get back to the farm by to-night then." + +He had sent his horse back to Ritzen the previous day in the care +of a man he knew, so that both their animals would be waiting for +them. + +"Do you want to get back?" said Burke. + +"Oh, yes--yes! Anything is better than this." She spoke rapidly, +almost passionately. "Let us go! Do let us go!" + +"Very well," said Burke. "If you wish it." + +He paused at the door of the office a few minutes later, when they +descended, to tell the girl there that they were leaving at noon. + +She looked up at him sharply as he stood looking in. "Heard the +latest?" she asked. + +"What is the latest?" questioned Burke. + +"That dirty dog you thrashed last night--Kieff; he's dead," she +told him briefly. "Killed himself with an overdose of opium, died +at Hoffstein's early this morning." She glanced beyond him at +Sylvia who stood behind. "And a good job, too," she said +vindictively. "He's ruined more people in this town than I'd like +to be responsible for--the filthy parasite. He was the curse of +the place." + +Burke turned with a movement that was very deliberate. He also +looked at Sylvia. For a long moment they stood so, in the man's +eyes a growing hardness, in the woman's a horror undisguised. +Then, with a very curious smile, Burke put his hand through his +wife's arm and turned her towards the room where breakfast awaited +them. + +"Come and have something to eat, partner!" he said, his voice very +level and emotionless. + +She went with him without a word; but her whole being throbbed and +quivered under his touch as if it were torture to her. Stark and +hideous, the evil thing reared itself in her path, and there was no +turning aside. She saw him, as she had seen him on the night of +her arrival, as she had seen him the night after, as she believed +that she would always see him for the rest of her life. And the +eyes that looked into hers--those eyes that had held her, dominated +her, charmed her--were the eyes of a murderer. Go where she would, +there could be no escape for her for ever. The evil thing had her +enchained. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE LAND OF BLASTED HOPES + +They were still at breakfast when Kelly came dashing in full of the +news of the death of Kieff. No one knew whether it had been +accidental or intentional, but he spoke--as the girl in the office +had spoken--as if a curse had been lifted from the town. And +Sylvia sat at the table and listened, feeling as if her heart had +been turned to ice. The man had died by his own hand, but she +could not shake from her the feeling that she and Burke had been +the cause of his death. + +She saw Kelly for a few minutes alone when the meal was over, and +whispered her thanks to him for what he had done with regard to +Guy. He would scarcely listen to her, declaring it had been a +pleasure to serve her, that it had been the easiest thing in the +world, and that now it was done she must not worry any more. + +"But was it really easy?" she questioned. + +"Yes--yes! He was glad enough of the chance to give it back. He +only acted on impulse, ye see, and Kieff was pushing behind. He'd +never have done it but for Kieff. Very likely he'll pull round now +and lead a respectable life," said Kelly cheerily. "He's got the +stuff in him, ye know, if he'd only let it grow." + +She smiled wanly at his optimism. "Oh, do beg him to try!" she +said. + +"I'll do me best," promised Kelly. "Anyway, don't you worry! It's +a sheer waste of time and never helped anybody yet." + +His cheerful attitude helped her, small as was her hope for Guy's +reformation. Moreover, she knew that Kelly would keep his word. +He would certainly do his best for Guy. + +He took his leave of her almost immediately, declaring it was the +busiest day of his life, but assuring her that he would ride over +to Blue Hill Farm to see her on the earliest opportunity with the +greatest pleasure in the world. + +She asked him somewhat nervously at parting if the death of Kieff +were likely to hinder their return, but he laughed at the notion. +Why, of course not! Burke hadn't killed the man. Such affairs as +the one she had witnessed the night before were by no means unusual +in Brennerstadt. Besides, it was a clear case of opium poisoning, +and everyone had known that he would die of it sooner or later. It +was the greatest mercy he had, gone, and so she wasn't to worry +about that! No one would have any regrets for Kieff except the +people he had ruined. + +And so with wholesome words of reassurance he left her, and she +went to prepare for her journey. + +When Burke joined her again, they spoke only of casual things, +avoiding all mention of Guy or Kieff by tacit consent. He was very +considerate for her, making every possible provision for her +comfort, but his manner was aloof, almost forbidding. There was no +intimacy between them, no confidence, no comradeship. + +They reached Ritzen in the late afternoon. Burke suggested +spending the night there, but she urged him to continue the +journey. The heat of the day was over; there was no reason for +lingering. So they found their horses, and started on the long +ride home. + +They rode side by side along the dusty track through a barren waste +that made the eyes ache. A heavy stillness hung over the land, +making the loneliness seem more immense. They scarcely spoke at +all, and it came to Sylvia that they were stranger to each other +now than they had been on that day at the very beginning of their +acquaintance when he had first brought her to Blue Hill Farm. She +felt herself to be even more of an alien in this land of cruel +desolation than when first she had set foot in it. It was like a +vast prison, she thought drearily, while the grim, unfriendly +_kopjes_ were the sentinels that guarded her, and the far blue +mountains were a granite wall that none might pass. + +The sun was low in the sky when they reached the watercourse. It +was quite dry with white stones that looked like the skeletons of +the ages scattered along its bed. + +"Shall we rest for a few minutes?" said Burke. But she shook her +head. "No--no! Not here. It is getting late." + +So they crossed the _spruit_ and went on. + +The sun went down in an opalescent glow of mauve and pink and pearl +that spread far over the _veldt_, and she felt that the beauty of +it was almost more than she could bear. It hid so much that was +terrible and cruel. + +They came at length, when the light was nearly gone, to a branching +track that led to the Merstons' farm. + +Burke broke his silence again. "I must go over and see Merston in +the morning." + +She felt the warm colour flood her face. How much had the Merstons +heard? She murmured something in response, but she did not offer +to accompany him. + +A deep orange moon came up over the eastern hills and lighted the +last few miles of their journey, casting a strange amber radiance +around them, flinging mysterious shadows about the _kopjes_, +shedding an unearthly splendour upon the endless _veldt_. It +spread like an illimitable ocean in soundless billows out of which +weird rocks stood up--a dream-world of fantastic possibilities, but +petrified into stillness by the spell of its solitudes--a world +that once surely had thrilled with magic and now was dead. + +As they rode past the last _kopje_--her _kopje_ that she had never +yet climbed, they seemed to her to enter the innermost loneliness +of all, to reach the very heart of the desert. + +They arrived at Blue Hill Farm, and the sound of their horses' feet +brought the Kaffirs buzzing from their huts, but the clatter that +they made did not penetrate that great and desolate silence. The +spell remained untouched. + +Burke went with Joe to superintend the rubbing down and feeding of +their animals, and Sylvia entered the place alone. Though it was +exactly the same as when she had left it, she felt as if she were +entering a ruin. + +She went to her own room and washed away the dust of the journey. +The packet that Kelly had given her she locked away in her own box. +Burke might enter at any moment, and she did not dare to attempt to +open the strong-box then. She knew the money must be returned and +speedily; she would not rest until she had returned it. But she +could not risk detection at that moment. Her courage was worn down +with physical fatigue. She lacked the nerve. + +When Burke came in, he found her bringing in a hastily prepared +supper. He took the tray from her and made her sit down while he +waited upon her. Her weariness was too great to hide, and she +yielded without demur, lacking the strength to do otherwise. + +He made her eat and drink though she was almost too tired even for +that, and when the meal was done he would not suffer her to rest in +a chair but led her with a certain grim kindliness to the door of +her room. + +"Go to bed, child!" he said. "And stay there till you feel better!" + +She obeyed him, feeling that she had no choice, yet still too +anxious to sleep. He brought her a glass of hot milk when she was +in bed, remarking that her supper had been a poor one, and she +drank in feverish haste, yearning to be left alone. Then, when he +had gone, she tormented herself by wondering if he had noticed +anything strange in her manner, if he thought that she were going +to be ill and so would perhaps mount guard over her. + +A chafing sense of impotence came upon her. It would be terrible +to fail now after all she had undergone. She lay listening, +straining every nerve. He would be sure to smoke his pipe on the +_stoep_ before turning in. That was the opportunity that she must +seize. She dared not leave it till the morrow. He might ask for +the key of the strong-box at any time. But still she did not hear +him moving beyond the closed door, and she wondered if he could +have fallen asleep in the sitting-room. A heavy drowsiness was +beginning to creep over her notwithstanding her uneasiness. She +fought against it with all her strength, but it gained ground in +spite of her. Her brain felt clogged with weariness. + +She began to doze, waking with violent starts and listening, +drifting back to slumber ever more deeply, till at last actual +sleep possessed her, and for a space she lay in complete oblivion. + +It must have been a full hour later that she became suddenly +conscious again, with every faculty on the alert, and remembered +the task still unfulfilled. It was almost as if a voice--Guy's +voice--had called her, urging her to action. + +The room was full of moonlight, and she could see every object in +it as clearly as if it had been day. The precious packet was under +her pillow with the key of the strong-box. She felt for and +grasped them both almost instinctively before she looked round, and +then, on the verge of raising herself, her newly awakened eyes +lighted upon something which sent all the blood in a wild rush to +her heart. A man's figure was kneeling motionless at the foot of +the bed. + +She lay and gazed and gazed, hardly believing her senses, wondering +if the moonlight could have tricked her. He was so still, he might +have been a figure wrought in marble. His face was hidden on his +arms, but there was that in his attitude that sent a stab of wonder +through her. Was it--was it Guy kneeling there in an abandonment +of despair? Had he followed her like a wandering outcast now that +his master Kieff was gone? If so, but no--but no! Surely it was a +dream. Guy was far away. This was but the fantasy of her own +brain. Guy could never have come to her thus. And yet, was it not +Guy's voice that had called her from her sleep? + +A great quiver went through her. What if Guy had died in the night +far away in Brennerstadt? What if this were his spirit come to +hold commune with hers. Was she not dearer to him than anyone else +in the world? Would he not surely seek her before he passed on? + +Trembling, she raised herself at last and spoke his name. "Guy, is +that you? Dear Guy, speak to me!" + +She saw an answering tremor pass through the kneeling figure, but +the face remained hidden. The moonlight lay upon the dark head, +and she thought she saw streaks of white upon it. It was Guy in +the flesh then. It could be none other. A yearning tenderness +thrilled through her. He had come back--in spite of all his +sinning he had come back. And again through the years there came +to her the picture of the boy she had known and loved--ah, how +dearly! in the days of his innocence. It was so vivid that for the +moment it swept all else aside. Oh, if he would but move and show +her once more the sparkling eager face of his youth! She longed +with a passionate intensity for one glimpse, however fleeting, of +that which once had filled her heart with rapture. And in her +longing she herself was swept back for a few blind seconds into the +happy realms of girlhood. She forgot all the bitterness and the +sorrow of this land of strangers. She Stretched out her arms to +the golden-winged Romance that had taught her the ecstasy of first +love. + +"Oh, Guy--my own Guy--come to me!" she said. + +It moved then, moved suddenly, even convulsively, as a wounded man +might move. He lifted his head, and looked at her. + +Her dream passed like the rending of a veil. His eyes pierced her, +but she had to meet them, lacking power to do otherwise. + +So for a space they looked at one another in the moonlight, saying +no word, scarcely so much as breathing. + +Then, at last he got to his feet with the heavy movements of a +tired man, stood a while longer looking down at her, finally turned +in utter silence and left her. + +When Sylvia slept, many hours later, there came again to her for +the third and last time the awful dream of two horsemen who +galloped towards each other upon the same rocky path. She saw +again the shock of collision and the awful hurtling fall. She went +again down into the stony valley and searched for the man who she +knew was dead. She found him in a deep place that no other living +being had ever entered. He lay with his face upturned to the +moonlight, and his eyes wide and glassy gazing upwards. She drew +near, and stooped to close those eyes; but she could not. For they +gazed straight into her own. They pierced her soul with the mute +reproach of a silence that could never be broken again. + +She turned and went away through a devastating loneliness. She +knew now which of the two had galloped free and which had fallen, +and she went as one without hope or comfort, wandering through the +waste places of the earth. + +Late in the morning she awoke and looked out upon a world of +dreadful sunshine,--a parched and barren world that panted in vain +for the healing of rain. + +"It is a land of blasted hopes," she told herself drearily. +"Everything in it is doomed." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE PARTING + +Sylvia entered the sitting-room that day with the feeling of one +returning after a prolonged absence. She had been almost too tired +to notice her surroundings the previous night upon arrival. Her +limbs felt leaden still, but her brain was alive and throbbing with +a painful intensity. + +Mary Ann informed her that the big _baas_ was out on the lands, and +she received the news thankfully. Now was her chance! She took +it, feeling like a traitor. + +Once more she went to Burke's room. She opened the strong-box +stealthily, listening intently for every sound. She slipped the +packet of notes inside, and shut it again quickly with a queer +little twist of the heart as she caught sight of the envelope +containing the cigarette which once he had drawn from between her +lips. Then with a start she heard the sound of hoofs outside the +window, and she knew that Burke had returned. + +She hurried from the room with the key in her hand, meeting him in +the passage. He had his back to the light, but she thought he +looked very grim. The past weeks had aged and hardened him. She +wondered if they had wrought a similar change in her. + +He spoke to her at once, before she had time to formulate a +greeting. + +"Ah, here you are! Will you come in here? I want to speak to you." + +She went into the sitting-room with a curious feeling of +fatefulness that outweighed her embarrassment. There was no +intimacy in his speech, and that helped her also. She saw that he +would not touch upon that which had happened in the night. + +He gave her a critical look as he entered. "Are you rested? Have +you had breakfast?" + +She answered him nervously. "Yes, I am quite all right to-day. +Mary Ann brought me some breakfast in bed." + +He nodded, dismissing the matter. "I have been over to see +Merston. He is on his legs again, practically well. But she is +not feeling up to the mark. She wants to know if you will go over. +I told her I thought you would. But don't go if you would rather +not!" + +"Of course I will go," Sylvia said, "if I can do any good." + +And then she looked at him with a sudden curious doubt. Had this +suggestion originated with him. Did he feel, as she felt, that the +present state of affairs was intolerable? Or was he, for her sake +alone, offering her the only sanctuary in his power? + +His face told her nothing. She had not the faintest idea as to +whether he wished her to go or stay. But he accepted her decision +at once. + +"I will take you over in the cart this evening," he said. "I +thought you would probably wish to go. They are more or less +expecting you." + +His tone was practical, wholly free from emotion. But the wonder +still lingered in her mind. She spoke after a moment with slight +hesitation. + +"You--will be able to manage all right without me?" + +"I shall try," said Burke. + +There was no perceptible cynicism in his tone, yet she winced a +little, for in some fashion it hurt her. Again she wondered, would +it be a relief to him when she had gone? Ah, that terrible barrier +of silence! If she could but have passed it then! But she lacked +the strength. + +"Very well," she said, and turned away. "I will be ready." + +His voice arrested her at the door of her room. "May I have the +key of the strong-box?" + +She turned back. Her face was burning. He had taken her unawares. + +"I have it here," she said, and gave it to him with a hand that +shook uncontrollably. + +"Thank you," he said, and put it in his pocket. "I should take it +easy to-day if I were you. You need a rest." + +And that was all. He went out again into the blazing sunshine, and +a little later she heard him talking to Schafen as they crossed the +yard to the sheep-pens. + +She saw him again at the midday meal, but he ate in haste and +seemed preoccupied, departing again at the earliest moment +possible. Though he did not discuss the matter with her, she knew +that the cruel drought would become a catastrophe if it lasted much +longer. She prepared for departure with a heavy heart. + +He came in again to tea, but went to his room to change and only +emerged to swallow a hasty cup before they started. Then, indeed, +just at the last, as she rose to dress for the journey, she +attempted shyly to penetrate the armour in which he had clad +himself. + +"Are you sure you want me to go?" she said. + +He turned towards her, and for a moment her heart stood still. +"Don't you want to go?" he said. + +She did not answer the question. Somehow she could not. Neither +could she meet the direct gaze of the keen grey eyes upturned to +hers. + +"I feel almost as if I am deserting my post," she told him, with a +rather piteous smile. + +"Oh, you needn't feel that," he said quietly. "In any case you can +come back whenever you want to. You won't be far away." + +Not far away! Were they not poles asunder already--their +partnership dissolved as if it had never been,--their +good-fellowship--their friendship--crumbled to ashes? Her heart +was beating again quickly, unevenly. She knew that the way was +barred. + +"Well, send for me if you want me at any time!" she said, and +passed on to her room. + +There was no need and small opportunity for talk during the drive, +for Burke had his hands full with a pair of young horses who tried +to bolt upon every conceivable occasion that offered, and he had to +keep an iron control upon them throughout the journey. + +So at length they came to the Merstons' farm, and with a mingling +of relief and dissatisfaction Sylvia realized that any further +discussion was out of the question. + +Merston came out, full of jovial welcome, to meet them, and in a +moment she was glad that she had come. For she saw that he was +genuinely pleased to see her. + +"It's most awfully good of you to come," he said, as he helped her +down. "You've been having a strenuous time at Brennerstadt, I'm +told. I wondered if you were going in for Kelly's diamond that he +was so full of the other day. How the fellow did talk to be sure! +He's a walking advertisement. I should think he must have filled +Wilbraham's coffers for him. And you didn't hear who won it?" + +It was Burke who answered. "No, we didn't stop for that. We +wanted to get away." + +Merston looked at Sylvia. "And you left young Guy behind? It was +very sporting of you to go after him like that. Burke told me +about it. I blame myself that he wasn't on the spot to help. I +hope the journey wasn't very infernal?" + +He spoke with so kindly an interest that but for Burke's presence +she would have felt no embarrassment. He evidently thought that +she had acted with commendable courage. She answered him without +difficulty, though she could not restrain a quick flush at his +words. It was thus then that Burke had defended her honour--and +his own! + +"It wasn't a very nice Journey of course, but I managed it all +right. Mr. Kelly has promised to look after Guy." + +"He'll do it then," said Merston reassuringly. "He's a grand chap +is Kelly. A bit on the talkative side of course, but a real good +sort. Come in now! Come and see my wife! Burke, get down! You +must have a drink anyway before you start back." + +But Burke shook his head. "Thanks, old chap! I won't wait. I've +things to do, and it's getting late. If you can just get my wife's +baggage out, I'll be off." + +The last of the sunset light shone upon him as he sat there. +Looking back at him, Sylvia saw him, brown, muscular, firm as a +rock, and an odd little thrill went through her. There was a +species of rugged magnificence about him that moved her strangely. +The splendid physique of the man had never shown to fuller +advantage. Perhaps the glory of the sunset intensified the +impression, but he seemed to her great. + +Merston was dragging forth her belongings. She went to help him. +Burke kept his seat, the reins taut in his hands. + +Merston abruptly gripped him by the knee. "Look here, old boy! +You must have a drink! Wait where you are while I fetch it!" + +He was gone with the words, and they were left alone. Sylvia bent +over her suit-case, preparing to pick it up. A tumult of strange +emotion had swept over her. She was quivering all over. The +horses were stamping and chafing at their bits. He spoke to them +with a brief command and they stood still. + +Then, very suddenly, he spoke to her. "Good-bye!" he said. + +She lifted her face. He was smiling faintly, but his smile hurt +her inexplicably. It seemed to veil something that was tragic from +her eyes. + +He bent towards her. "Good-bye!" he said again. + +She moved swiftly, seized by an impulse she could not pause to +question. It was as if an unknown force compelled her. She +mounted the wheel, and offered him her lips in farewell. + +For a moment his arms encircled her with a close and quivering +tension. He kissed her, and in that kiss for the first time she +felt the call of the spirit. + +Then she was free, and blindly feeling for the ground. As she +reached it, she heard Merston returning, and without a backward +look she took up her suit-case and turned to enter. There was a +burning sensation as of tears in her throat, but she kept them from +her eyes by sheer determination, and Merston noticed nothing. + +"Go straight in!" he said to her with cheery hospitality. "You'll +find my wife inside. She's cooking the supper. She'll be awfully +pleased to see you." + +If this were indeed the case, Mrs. Merston certainly concealed any +excess of pleasure very effectually. She greeted her with a +perfunctory smile, and told her it was very good of her to come but +she would soon wish she hadn't. She was looking very worn and +tired, but she assured Sylvia somewhat sardonically that she was +not feeling any worse than usual. The heat and the drought had +been very trying, and her husband's accident had given her more to +do. She had fainted the evening before, and he had been frightened +for once and made a fuss--quite unnecessarily. She was quite +herself again, and she hoped Sylvia would not feel she had been +summoned on false pretences. + +Sylvia assured her that she would not, and declared it would do her +good to make herself useful. + +"Aren't you that at home?" said Mrs. Merston. + +"Well, there are plenty of Kaffirs to do the work. I am not +absolutely necessary to Burke's comfort," Sylvia explained. + +"I thought you were," Matilda Merston's pale eyes gave her a shrewd +glance. "He was keen enough to run after you to Brennerstadt," she +remarked. "How did you get on there?" + +Sylvia hesitated. "We were only there a couple of nights," she +said vaguely. + +"So I gathered. Did you find Guy?" + +"No. I didn't see him. But Mr. Kelly has promised to look after +him." + +"Ah, Donovan is a good sort," said Mrs. Merston. "He'd nursemaid +anyone. So Kieff is dead!" + +She said it abruptly, too intent upon the mixing of her cake to +look up. + +There came the sound of wheel and hoofs outside, and Sylvia paused +to listen before she replied. + +"Yes. Kieff is dead." + +The sound died away in the distance, and there fell a silence. + +Then, "Killed himself, did he?" asked Mrs. Merston. + +"I was told so," said Sylvia. + +"Don't you believe it?" Mrs. Merston looked across at her suddenly. +"Did someone else have a try first? Did he have a row with Burke?" + +There was no evading the questions though she would fain have +avoided the whole subject. In a very low voice Sylvia spoke of the +violent scene she had witnessed. + +Mrs. Merston listened with interest, but with no great surprise. +"Burke always was a savage," she commented. "But after all, Kieff +had tried to kill him a day or two before. Guy prevented that, so +Donovan told me. What made Guy go off in such a hurry?" + +"I--can't tell you," Sylvia said. + +Something in her reply struck Mrs. Merston. She became suddenly +silent, and finished her task without another word. + +Later, when she took Sylvia to the guest-room, which was no more +than a corrugated iron lean-to lined with boarding, she +unexpectedly drew the girl to her and kissed her. But still she +did not say a word. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +PIET VREIBOOM + +It was a strange friendship that developed between Sylvia and +Matilda Merston during the days that followed; for they had little +in common. The elder woman leaned upon the younger, and, perhaps +in consequence of this, Sylvia's energy seemed inexhaustible. She +amazed Bill Merston by her capacity for work. She lifted the +burden that had pressed so heavily upon her friend, and manfully +mastered every difficulty that arose. She insisted that her +hostess should rest for a set time every day, and the effect of +this unusual relaxation upon Matilda was surprising. Her husband +marvelled at it, and frankly told her she was like another woman. +For, partly from the lessening of the physical strain and partly +from the influence of congenial companionship, the carping +discontent that had so possessed her of late had begun to give way +to a softer and infinitely more gracious frame of mind. The bond +of their womanhood drew the two together, and the intimacy between +them nourished in that desert place though probably in no other +ground would it have taken root. + +Work was as an anaesthetic to Sylvia in those days. She was +thankful to occupy her mind and at night to sleep from sheer +weariness. The sense of being useful to someone helped her also. +She gave herself up to work as a respite from the torment of +thought, resolutely refusing to look forward, striving so to become +absorbed in the daily task as to crowd out even memory. She and +Merston were fast friends also, and his wholesome masculine +selfishness did her good. He was like a pleasant, rather spoilt +child, unconventionally affectionate, and by no means difficult to +manage. They called each other by their Christian names before she +had been twenty-four hours at the farm, and chaffed each other with +cheery inconsequence whenever they met. Sylvia sometimes marvelled +at herself for that surface lightheartedness, but somehow it seemed +to be in the atmosphere. Bill Merston's hearty laugh was +irresistible to all but his wife. + +It was but a brief respite. She knew it could not last, but its +very transience made her the more ready 10 take advantage of it. +And she was thankful for every day that carried her farther from +that terrible time at Brennerstadt. It had begun to seem more like +an evil dream to her now--a nightmare happening that never could +have taken place in ordinary, normal existence. + +Burke did not come over to see them again, nor did he write. +Evidently he was too busy to do either. But one evening Merston +announced his intention of riding over to Blue Hill Farm, and asked +Sylvia if she would like to send a note by him. + +"You've got ten minutes to do it in," he gaily told her. "So you'd +better leave all the fond adjectives till the end and put them in +if you have time." + +She thanked him carelessly enough for his advice, but when she +reached her own room she found herself confronted with a problem +that baffled her. How was she to write to Burke? What could she +say to him? She felt strangely confounded and unsure of herself. + +Eight of the allotted ten minutes had flown before she set pencil +to paper. Then, hurriedly, with trembling fingers, she scribbled a +few sentences. "I hope all is well with you. We are very busy +here. Matilda is better, and I am quite fit and enjoying the work. +Is Mary Ann looking after you properly?" She paused there. +Somehow the thought of Burke with only the Kaffir servants to +minister to him sent an odd little pang through her. She had begun +to accustom him to better things. She wondered if he were +lonely--if he wanted her. Ought she to offer to go back? + +Something cried out sharply within her at the thought. Her whole +being shrank as the old nightmare horror swept back upon her. +No--no! She could not face it--not yet. The memory of his +implacability, his ruthlessness, arose like a menacing wave, +shaking her to the soul. + +Then, suddenly, the vision changed. She saw him as she had seen +him on that last night, when she had awaked to find him kneeling by +her bed. And again that swift pang went through her. She did not +ask herself again if he wanted her. + +The door of her room opened on to the yard. She heard Merston lead +his horse up to the front of the bungalow and stand talking to his +wife who was just inside. She knew that in a moment or two his +cheery shout would come to her, calling for the note. + +Hastily she resumed her task. "If there is any mending to be done, +send it back by Bill." + +Again she paused. Matilda was laughing at something her husband had +said. It was only lately that she had begun to laugh. + +Almost immediately came an answering shout of laughter from +Merston, and then his boyish yell to her. + +"Hi, Sylvia! How much longer are you going to keep me waiting for +that precious love-letter?" + +She called an answer to him, dashing off final words as she did so. +"I feel I am doing some good here, but if you should specially wish +it, of course I will come back at any time." For a second more she +hesitated, then simply wrote her name. + +Folding up the hurried scrawl, she was conscious of a strong sense +of dissatisfaction, but she would not reopen it. There was nothing +more to be said. + +She went out with it to Bill Merston, and met his chaff with +careless laughter. + +"You haven't told him to come and fetch you away, I hope?" Matilda +said, as he rode away. + +And she smiled and answered, "No, not unless he specially needs me." + +"You don't want to go ?" Matilda asked abruptly. + +"Not unless you are tired of me," Sylvia rejoined. + +"Don't be silly!" said Matilda briefly. + +Half an hour after Merston's departure there came the shambling +trot of another horse, and Piet Vreiboom, slouched like a sack in +the saddle rode up and rolled off at the door. + +"Oh, bother the man!" said Matilda, "I shan't ask him in with Bill +away." + +The amiable Piet, however, did not wait to be asked. He fastened +up his horse and rolled into the house with his hat on, where he +gave her perfunctory greeting, grinned at Sylvia, and seated +himself in the easiest chair he could find. + +Matilda's face of unconcealed disgust nearly provoked Sylvia to +uncontrolled laughter, but she checked herself in time, and went to +get the unwelcome visitor a drink in the hope of speeding his +departure. + +Piet Vreiboom however was in no hurry, though they assured him +repeatedly that Merston would probably not return for some hours. +He sat squarely in his chair with his little greedy eyes fixed upon +Sylvia, and merely grunted in response to all their efforts. + +When he had refreshed himself and lighted his pipe, he began to +search his mind for the few English words at his disposal and to +arrange these in a fashion intelligible to the two very inferior +beings who were listening to him. He told them in laboured +language that he had come from Brennerstadt, that the races were +over and the great Wilbraham diamond was lost and won. Who had won +it? No one knew. Some said it was a lady. He looked again at +Sylvia who turned out the pockets of her overall, and assured him +that she was not the lucky one. + +He looked as if he suspected ridicule behind her mirth, and changed +the subject. Guy Ranger had disappeared, and no one knew what had +become of him. Some people thought he was dead, like Kieff. Again +he looked searchingly at Sylvia, but she did not joke over this +information. She began to peel some potatoes as if she had not +heard it. And Piet Vreiboom sat back in his chair and stared at +her, till the hot colour rose and spread over her face and neck, +and then he puffed forth a cloud of vile smoke and laughed. + +At that juncture Mrs. Merston came forward with unusual briskness. +"You had better go," she said, with great decision. "There is +going to be a storm." + +He began to dispute the point, but meeting most unexpected +lightning in her pale eyes he thought better of it, and after a few +seconds for deliberation and the due assertion of his masculine +superiority, he lumbered to his feet and prepared to depart. + +Mrs. Merston followed him firmly to the door, reiterating, her +belief in a coming change. Certainly the sky was overcast, but the +clouds often came up thickly at night and dispersed again without +shedding any rain. There had not been rain for months. + +Very grimly Matilda Merston watched the departure of her unwelcome +visitor, enduring the dust that rose from his horse's hoofs with +the patience of inflexible determination. Then, when she had seen +him go and the swirling dust had begun to settle again, she turned +inwards and proceeded to wash the glass that the Boer had used with +an expression of fixed disgust. + +Suddenly she spoke. "I shouldn't believe anything that man said on +oath." + +"Neither should I," said Sylvia quietly. She did not look up from +her task, and Matilda Merston said no more. + +There was a brief silence, then Sylvia spoke again. "You are very +good to me," she said. + +"My dear!" said Matilda almost sharply. + +Sylvia's hands were trembling a little, but she continued to occupy +them. "You must sometimes wonder why Guy is so much to me," she +said. "I think it has been very sweet of you never to ask. But I +feel I should like to tell you about it." + +"Of course; if you want to," said Matilda. + +"I do want you to know," Sylvia said, with slight effort. "You +have taken me so much on trust. And I never even told you how I +came to meet--and marry--Burke." + +"There was no necessity for you to tell me," said Matilda. + +"Perhaps not. But you must have thought it rather sudden--rather +strange." Sylvia's fingers moved a little more rapidly. "You see, +I came out here engaged to marry Guy." + +"Good gracious!" said Matilda. + +Sylvia glanced up momentarily. "We had been engaged for years. We +were engaged before he ever came here. We--loved each other. +But--" Words failed her suddenly; she drew a short, hard breath +and was silent. + +"He let you down?" said Matilda. + +She nodded. + +Matilda's face hardened. "That was Burke's doing." + +"No--no!" Sylvia found her voice again with an effort. "It isn't +fair to say that. Burke tried to help him,--has tried--many times. +He may have been harsh to him; he may have made mistakes. But I +know he has tried to help him." + +"Was that why he married you?" asked Matilda, with a bitter curl of +the lip. + +Sylvia winced. "No. I--don't quite know what made him think of +that. Perhaps--in a way--he felt he ought. I was thrown on his +protection, and he never would believe that I was capable of +fending for myself." + +"Very chivalrous!" commented Matilda. "Men are like that." + +Sylvia shivered. "Don't--please! He--has been very good to me." + +"In his own way," said Matilda. + +"No, in every way. I can't tell you how good till--till Guy came +back. He brought him back to please me." Sylvia's voice was low +and distressed. "That was when things began to go wrong," she said. + +"There was nothing very magnanimous in that," commented Matilda. +"He wanted you to see poor Guy when he was down. He wanted to give +you a lesson so that you should realize your good luck in being +married to him. He didn't count on the fact that you loved him. +He expected you to be disgusted." + +"Oh, don't!" Sylvia said quickly. "Really that isn't fair. That +isn't--Burke. He did it against his judgment. He did it for my +sake." + +"You don't know much about men, do you?" said Matilda. + +"Perhaps not. But I know that much about Burke. I know that he +plays fair." + +"Even if he kills his man," suggested Matilda cynically. + +"He always plays fair." Sylvia spoke firmly. "But he doesn't know +how to make allowances. He is hard." + +"Have you found him so?" said Matilda. + +"I?" Sylvia looked across at her. + +Their eyes met. There was a certain compulsion in the elder +woman's look. + +"Yes, you," she said. "You personally. Has he been cruel to you, +Sylvia? Has he? Ah no, you needn't tell me! I--know." She went +suddenly to her, and put her arm around her. + +Sylvia was trembling. "He didn't--understand," she whispered. + +"Men never do," said Matilda very bitterly. "Love is beyond them. +They are only capable of passion. I learnt that lesson long ago. +It simplified life considerably, for I left off expecting anything +else." + +Sylvia clung to her for a moment. "I think you are wrong," she +said. "I know you are wrong--somehow. But--I can't prove it to +you." + +"You're so young," said Matilda compassionately. + +"No, no, I am not." Sylvia tried to smile as she disengaged +herself. "I am getting older. I am learning. If--if only I felt +happy about Guy, I believe I should get on much better. +But--but--" the tears rose to her eyes in spite of her--"he haunts +me. I can't rest because of him. I dream about him. I feel torn +in two. For Burke--has given him up. But I--I can't." + +"Of course you can't. You wouldn't." Matilda spoke with warmth. +"Don't let Burke deprive you of your friends! Plenty of men +imagine that when you have got a husband, you don't need anyone +else. They little know." + +Sylvia's eyes went out across the _veldt_ to a faint, dim line of +blue beyond, and dwelt upon it wistfully. "Don't you think it +depends upon the husband?" she said. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +OUT OF THE DEPTHS + +That night the thunder rolled among the _kopjes_, and Sylvia lay in +her hut wide-awake and listening. The lightning glanced and +quivered about the distant hills and threw a weird and fitful +radiance about her bed, extinguishing the dim light thrown by her +night-lamp. + +Bill Merston had brought her back a written message from her +husband, and she lay with it gripped in her hand. For that message +held a cry which had thrown her whole soul into tumult. + +"I want you," he had written in a hand that might have been Guy's. +"I can't get on without you. I am coming to-morrow to fetch you +back--if you will come." + +If she would come! In those last words she seemed to hear the +appeal of a man's agony. What had he been through before he had +brought himself to write those words? They hurt her unutterably, +piercing her to the soul, when she remembered her own half-hearted +offer to return. Yet she would have given all she had for a few +days' respite. The hot fierce longing that beat in those few words +frightened her by its intensity. It made her think of one of those +overwhelming _veldt_ fires, consuming everything in its path, +leaving behind it the blackness of desolation. Yes, he wanted her +now because she had been denied to him. The flame of his desire +had been fanned to a white heat. She seemed to feel it reaching +out to her, scorching her, even as she lay. And she shrank with a +desperate sense of impotence, feeling her fate to be sealed. For +she knew that she must go to him. She must pass through the +furnace anew. She must endure her fate. Afterwards--it might +be--when it had burnt itself out, some spark of the Divine would be +found kindled among the ashes to give her comfort. + +And ever the thought of Guy waited at the back of her mind, Guy who +had failed her so hopelessly, so repeatedly. Was she going to fail +him now? Was she going to place herself so completely out of his +reach that even if he called to her for help she would be powerless +to stretch forth a hand to him? The thought tormented her. It was +the one thing that she felt she could not face, the one point upon +which she and Burke would be for ever at variance. Ah no! +Whatever else she surrendered, she could not yield to him in this. +She could not, she would not, leave Guy to sink while there +remained the smallest chance of saving him. + +So she told herself, lying there alone, while the thunder rolled +now near, now far, like a menacing monster wandering hither and +thither in search of prey. Earlier in the night she had tried to +pray, but it had brought her no relief. She had not really prayed +since that terrible journey to Brennerstadt when she had poured out +her whole soul in supplication and had met only failure. She felt +in a fashion cut off, forgotten in this land of strangers. The +very effort to bridge the gulf seemed but to emphasize her utter +impotence. She had come to that barren part of the way where even +the most hopeful traveller sometimes feels that God has forgotten +to be gracious. She had never felt more alone in all her life, and +it was a loneliness that frightened her. + +Weirdly the lightning played about her bed. She watched it with +eyes that would not close. She wondered if Burke were watching it +also, and shivered with the thought of the morrow, asking herself +for the first time why she had ever consented to marry him, why she +had not rather shouldered her fate and gone back to her father. +She would have found work in England. He would have helped her if +she had only had the courage to return, the strength to be humble. +Her thoughts lingered tenderly about him. They had been so much to +each other once. Did he ever regret her? Did he ever wish her +back? + +A burning lump rose in her throat. She turned her head upon the +pillow, clasping her hands tightly over her eyes. Ah, if she had +but gone back to him! They had loved each other, and somehow love +would have conquered. Did not love always conquer? What were +those words that she had read cut deep in the trunk of a dead tree? +They flashed through her brain more vividly than the glancing +lightning--the key to every closed door--the balm for every +wound--the ladder by which alone the top of the world is reached. +_Fide et Amore_! By Faith and Love! + +There came again to her that curious feeling of revelation. +Looking back, she saw the man on horseback hewing those words while +she waited. The words themselves shone in fiery letters across. +her closed eyelids. She asked herself suddenly, with an awed +wonder if perchance her prayer had been answered after all, and she +had suffered the message to pass her by. . . . + +There came a crash of thunder nearer and more menacing than any +that had gone before, startling her almost with a sense of doom, +setting every pulse in her body beating. She uncovered her face +and sat up. + +Sullenly the echoes rolled away, yet they left behind a strange +impression that possessed her with an uncanny force from which she +could not shake herself free--a feeling that amounted to actual +conviction that some presence lurked without in the storm, alert +and stealthy, waiting for something. + +The window was at the side of her bed. She had but to draw aside +the curtain and look out. It was within reach of her hand. But +for many breathless seconds she dared not. + +What it was that stood outside she had no idea, but the thought of +Kieff was in her mind--Kieff the vampire who was dead. + +She felt herself grow cold all over. She had only to cross the +narrow room and knock on the main wall of the bungalow to summon +Merston. He would come at a moment's notice, she knew. But she +felt powerless to move. Sheer terror bound her limbs. + +The thunder slowly ceased, and there followed a brief stillness +through which the beating of her heart clamoured wildly. Yet she +was beginning to tell herself that it was no more than a nightmare +panic that had caught her, when suddenly something knocked softly +upon the closed window beneath which she lay. + +She started violently and glanced across the room, measuring the +distance to the further wall on which she herself would have to +knock to summon help. + +Then, while instinctively she debated the point, summoning her +strength for the effort, there came another sound close to her--a +low voice speaking her name. + +"Sylvia! Sylvia! Wake up and let me in!" + +She snatched back the curtain in a second. She knew that voice. +By the shifting gleam of the lightning she saw him, looking in upon +her. Her fear vanished. + +Swiftly she sprang to do his bidding. Had she ever failed to +answer any call of his? She drew back the bolts of her door, and +in a moment they were together. + +The thunder roared again behind him as he entered, but neither of +them heard it. For he caught her in his arms with a hungry sound, +and as she clung to him nearly fainting with relief, he kissed her, +straining her to him gasping wild words of love. + +The touch of those hot, devouring lips awoke her. She had never +felt the slightest fear of Guy before that moment, but the +fierceness of his hold called a sharp warning in her soul. There +was about him an unrestraint, a lawlessness, that turned her relief +into misgiving. She put up a quick hand, checking him. + +"Guy--Guy, you are hurting me!" + +He relaxed his hold then, looking at her, his head back, the old +boyish triumph shining in his eyes. "Little sweetheart, I'm sorry. +I couldn't help it--just for the moment. The sight of you and the +touch of you together just turned my head. But it's all right. +Don't look so scared! I wouldn't harm a single hair of your +precious little head." He gathered up the long plait of her hair +and kissed it passionately. + +She laid a trembling hand against his shoulder. "Guy, please! You +mustn't. I had to let you in. But not--not for this." + +He uttered a low laugh that seemed to hold a note of triumph. But +he let her go. + +"Of course you had to let me in! Were you asleep? Did I frighten +you?" + +"You startled me just at first. I think the thunder had set me on +edge, for I wasn't asleep. It's such a--savage sort of night, +isn't it?" + +Sylvia glanced forth again over the low _veldt_ where the +flickering lightning leaped from cloud to cloud. + +"Not so bad," said Guy. "It will serve our turn all right. Do you +know what I have come for?" + +She looked back at him quickly. There was no mistaking the +exultation in his low voice. It amazed her, and again she was +stabbed by that sense of insecurity. + +"I thought you had come to--explain things," she made answer. "And +to say--good-bye." + +"To say--what?" He took her by the shoulders; his dark eyes +flashed a laughing challenge into hers. "You're not in earnest!" +he said. + +She backed away from him. "But I am, Guy. I am." Her voice +sounded strained even to herself, for she was strangely discomfited +by his attitude. She had expected a broken man kneeling at her +feet in an agony of contrition. His overweening confidence +confounded her. "Have you no sense of right and wrong left?" she +said. + +He kept his hands upon her. "None whatever," he told her +recklessly. "The only thing in life that counts is you--just you. +Because we love each other, the whole world is ours for the taking. +No, listen, darling! I'm not talking rot. Do you remember the +last time we were together? How I swore I would conquer--for your +sake? Well,--I've done it. I have conquered. Now that that devil +Kieff is dead, there is no reason why I shouldn't keep straight +always. And so I have come to you--for my crown." + +His voice sank. He stooped towards her. + +But she drew back sharply. "Guy, don't forget--don't forget--I am +married to Burke!" she said, speaking quickly, breathlessly. + +His hands tightened upon her. "I am going to forget," he told her +fiercely. "And so are you. You have no love for him. Your +marriage is nothing but an empty bond." + +"No--no!" Painfully she broke in upon him. "My marriage is--more +than that. I am his wife--and the keeper of his honour. I am +going back to him--to-morrow." + +"You are not! You are not!" Hotly he contradicted her. "By +to-morrow we shall be far away. Listen, Sylvia! I haven't told +you all. I am rich. My luck has turned. You'll hardly believe +it, but it's true. It was I who won the Wilbraham diamond. We've +kept it secret, because I didn't want to be dogged by parasites. +I've thought of you all through. And now--and now--" his voice +vibrated again on that note of triumph--"I've come to take you +away. Mine at last!" + +He would have drawn her to him, but she resisted him. She pushed +him from her. For the first time in her life she looked at him +with condemnation in her eyes. + +"Is this--true?" Her voice held a throb of anger. + +He stared at her, his triumph slowly giving place to a half-formed +doubt. "Of course it's true. I couldn't invent anything so +stupendous as that." + +She looked back at him mercilessly. "If it is true, how did you +find the money for the gamble?" + +The doubt on his face deepened to something that was almost shame. +"Oh, that!" he said. "I--borrowed that." + +"You borrowed it!" She repeated the words without pity. "You +borrowed it from Burke's strong-box. Didn't you?" + +The question was keen as the cut of a whip. It demanded an answer. +Almost involuntarily, the answer came. + +"Well--yes! But---I hoped to pay it back. I'm going to pay it +back--now." + +"Now!" she said, and almost laughed. Was it for this that she had +staked everything--everything she had--and lost? There was bitter +scorn in her next words. "You can pay it back to Donovan Kelly," +she said. "He has replaced it on your behalf." + +"What do you mean?" His hands were clenched. Behind his cloak of +shame a fire was kindling. The glancing lightning seemed reflected +in his eyes. + +But Sylvia knew no fear, only an overwhelming contempt. "I mean," +she said, "that to save you--to leave you a chance of getting back +to solid ground--Donovan and I deceived Burke. He supplied the +money, and I put it back." + +"Great Jove!" said Guy. He was looking at her oddly, almost +speculatively. "But Donovan never had any money to spare!" he +said. "He sends it all home to his old mother." + +"He gave it to me nevertheless." Sylvia's voice had a scathing +note. "And--he pretended that it had come from you--that you had +returned it." + +"Very subtle of him!" said Guy. He considered the point for a +moment or two, then swept it aside. "Well, I'll settle up with +him. It'll be all right. I always pay my debts--sooner or later. +So that's all right, isn't it? Say it's all right!" + +He spoke imperiously, meeting her scorn with a dominating +self-assurance. There followed a few moments that were tense with +a mental conflict such as Sylvia had never deemed possible between +them. Then in a very low voice she made answer. + +"No. It is not all right. Nothing can ever make it so again. +Please say good-bye--and go!" + +He made a furious movement, and caught her suddenly and violently +by the wrists. His eyes shone like the eyes of a starving animal. +Before she had time to resist him, her hands were gripped behind +her and she was fast locked in his arms. + +He spoke, his face close to hers, his hot breath seeming to consume +her, his words a mere whisper through lips that almost moved upon +her own. + +"Do you think I'm going--now? Do you think you can send me away +with a word like that--fling me off like an old glove--you who have +belonged to me all these years? No, don't speak! You'd better not +speak! If you dare to deny your love for me now, I believe I shall +kill you! If you had been any other woman, I wouldn't have stopped +to argue. But--you are you. And--I--love you so." + +His voice broke unexpectedly upon the words. For a moment--one +sickening, awful moment--his lips were pressed upon hers, seeming +to draw all the breath--the very life itself--out of her quivering +body. Then there came a terrible sound--a rending sound like the +tearing of dry wood--and the dreadful constriction of his hold was +gone. She burst from it, gasping for air and freedom with the +agonized relief of one who has barely escaped suffocation. She +sprang for the door though her knees were doubling under her. She +reached it, and threw it wide. Then she looked back. . . . + +He was huddled against the wall, his head in his hands, writhing as +if in the grip of some fiendish torturer. Broken sounds escaped +him--sounds he fought frantically to repress. He seemed to be +choking; and in a second her memory flashed back to that anguish +she had witnessed weeks before when first she had seen Kieff's +remedy and implored him to use it. + +For seconds she stood, a helpless witness, too horrified to move. +Then, her physical strength reviving, pity stirred within her, +striving against what had been a sick and fearful loathing. +Gradually her vision cleared. The evil shadow lifted from her +brain. She saw him as he was--a man in desperate need of help. + +She flung her repugnance from her, though it dung to her, dragging +upon her as she moved like a tangible thing. She closed the door +and went slowly back into the room, mastering her horror, fighting +it at every step. She readied the struggling, convulsed figure, +laid her hands upon it,--and her repulsion was gone. + +"Sit down!" she said. "Sit down and let me help you!" + +Blindly he surrendered to her guiding. She led him to the bed, and +he sank upon it. She opened his shirt at the throat. She brought +him water. + +He could not drink at first, but after repeated effort he succeeded +in swallowing a little. Then at length in a hoarse whisper, +scarcely intelligible, he asked for the remedy which he always +carried. + +She felt in his pockets and found it, all ready for use. The +lightning had begun to die down, and the light within the room was +dim. She turned the lamp higher, moving it so that its ray fell +upon Guy. And in that moment she saw Death in his face. . . . + +She felt as if a quiet and very steady Hand had been laid upon her, +checking all agitation. Calmly she bent over the bared arm he +thrust forth to her. Unflinchingly she ran the needle into the +white flesh, noting with a detached sort of pity his emaciation. + +He put his other arm about her like a frightened, dinging child. +"Stay with me! Don't leave me!" he muttered. + +"All right," she made gentle answer. "Don't be afraid!" + +He leaned against her, shuddering violently, his dark head bowed, +his spasmodic breathing painful to hear. She waited beside him for +the relief that seemed so slow in coming. Kieff's remedy did not +act so quickly now. + +Gradually at last the distress began to lessen. She felt the +tension of his crouched body relax, the anguished breathing become +less laboured. He still clung to her, and her hand was on his head +though she did not remember putting it there. The dull echoes of +the thunder reverberated far away among the distant hills. The +night was passing. + +Out of a deep silence there came Guy's voice. "I want--" he said +restlessly--"I want----" + +She bent over him. Her arm went round his shoulders. Somehow she +felt as if the furnace of suffering through which he had come had +purged away all that was evil. His weakness cried aloud to her; +the rest was forgotten. + +He turned his face up to her; and though the stamp of his agony was +still upon it, the eyes were pure and free from all taint of +passion. + +"What do you want?" she asked him softly. + +"I've been--horrible to you, Sylvia," he said, speaking rather +jerkily. "Sometimes I get a devil inside me--and I don't know what +I'm doing. I believe it's Kieff. I never knew what hell meant +till I met him. He taught me practically everything I know in that +line. He was like an awful rotting disease. He ruined everyone he +came near. Everything he touched went bad." He paused a moment. +Then, with a sudden boyishness, "There, it's done with, darling," +he said. "Will you forget it all--and let me start afresh? I've +had such damnable luck always." + +His eyes pleaded with her, yet they held confidence also. He knew +that she would not refuse. + +And because of that which the lamplight had revealed to her, Sylvia +bent after a moment and kissed him on the forehead. She knew as +she did it that the devil, that had menaced her had been driven +forth. + +So for a space they remained in a union of the spirit that was +curiously unlike anything that had ever before existed between +them. Then Guy's arm began to slip away from her. There came from +him a deep sigh. + +She bent low over him, looking into his face. His eyes were +closed, but his lips moved, murmuring words which she guessed +rather than heard. + +"Let me rest--just for a little! I shall be all right--afterwards." + +She laid him back very gently upon the pillow, and lifted his feet +on to the bed. He thanked her almost inaudibly, and relaxed every +muscle like a tired child. She turned the lamp from him and moved +away. + +She dressed in the dimness. Guy did not stir again. He lay +shrouded in the peace of utter repose. She had watched those deep +slumbers too often to fear any sudden awakening. + +A few minutes later she went to the door, and softly opened it. + +The sullen clouds were lifting; the night had gone. Very far away +a faint orange light spread like the reflected glow from a mighty +furnace somewhere behind those hills of mystery. The _veldt_ lay +wide and dumb like a vast and soundless sea. + +She stood awed, as one who had risen out of the depths and scarcely +yet believed in any deliverance. But the horror had passed from +her like an evil dream. She stood in the first light of the +dawning and waited in a great stillness for the coming of the day. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE MEETING + +Joe, the Kaffir boy, bestirred himself to the sound of Mary Ann's +shrill rating. The hour was still early, but the big _baas_ was in +a hurry and wanted his boots. Joe hastened to polish them to the +tune of Mary Ann's repeated assurance that he would be wanting his +whip next, while Fair Rosamond laid the table with a nervous speed +that caused her to trip against every chair she passed. When Burke +made his appearance, the whole bungalow was as seething with +excitement as if it had been peopled by a horde of Kaffirs instead +of only three. + +He was scarcely aware of them in his desire to be gone, merely +throwing an order here and there as he partook of a hasty +breakfast, and then striding forth to their vast relief to mount +into the Cape cart with its two skittish horses that awaited him +beyond the _stoep_. + +He departed in a cloud of dust, for still the rain did not fall, +and immediately, like the casting of a spell, the peace of a great +somnolence descended upon the bungalow. The Kaffirs strolled back +to their huts to resume their interrupted slumbers. + +The dust slowly settled upon all things, and all was quiet. + +Down the rough track Burke jolted. The horses were fresh, and he +did not seek to check them. All night long he had been picturing +that swift journey and the goal that awaited him, and he was in a +fever to accomplish it. Their highest speed was not swift enough +for him. + +Through the heavy clouds behind him there came the first break of +the sunshine transforming the _veldt_. It acted like a goad upon +him. He wanted to start back before the sun rose high. The track +that led to Bill Merston's farm was even rougher than his own, but +it did not daunt him. He suffered the horses to take their own +pace, and they travelled superbly. They had scarcely slackened +during the whole ten-mile journey. + +He smiled faintly to himself as he sighted the hideous iron +building that was Bill Merston's dwelling-place. He wondered how +Sylvia appreciated this form of life in the wilderness. He slowed +down the animals to a walk as he neared it, peering about for some +sign of its inhabitants. The clouds had scattered, and the son was +shining brilliantly behind him. He reflected that Merston was +probably out on the lands. His wife would be superintending the +preparation of breakfast. And Sylvia---- + +Something jerked suddenly within him, and a pulse awoke to a +furious beating in his throat. Sylvia was emerging at that very +moment from the doorway of the humble guest-chamber. The sun was +in her eyes, blinding her, and she did not see him. Yet she paused +a moment on the threshold. + +Burke dragged in his horses and sat watching her across the yard. +She looked pale and unspeakably weary in the searching morning +light. For a second or two she stood so, then, slightly turning, +she spoke into the room behind her ere she closed the door: + +"Stay here while I fetch you something to eat! Then you shall go +as soon as you like." + +Clearly her voice came to him, and in it was that throb of +tenderness which he had heard once before when she had offered him +her dreaming face to kiss with the name of another man upon her +lips. He sat quite motionless as one transfixed while she drew the +door after her and stepped forth into the sunshine. And still she +did not see him for the glory of the morning. + +She went quickly round to the back of the bungalow and disappeared +from his sight. + +Two minutes later Burke Ranger strode across the yard with that in +his face which made it more terrible than the face of a savage +beast. He reached the closed door, opened it, and stepped within. + +His movements were swift and wholly without stealth, but they did +not make much sound. The man inside the room did not hear +immediately. + +He was seated on the edge of the bed adjusting the strap of one of +his gaiters. Burke stood and watched him unobserved till he lifted +his head. Then with a curt, "Now!" he turned and bolted the door +behind him. + +"Hullo!" said Guy, and got to his feet. + +They stood face to face, alike yet unlike, men of the same breed, +bearing the same ineradicable stamp, yet poles asunder. + +The silence between them was as the appalling pause between the +lightning and the thunder-clap. All the savagery of which the +human heart is capable was pent within its brief bounds. Then +Burke spoke through lips that were white and strangely twisted: + +"Have you anything at all to say for yourself?" + +Guy threw a single glance around. "Not here," he said. "And not +now. I'll meet you. Where shall I meet you?" + +"Why not here--and now?" Burke's hands were at his sides, hard +clenched, as if it took all his strength to keep them there. His +eyes never stirred from Guy's face. They had the fixed and cruel +look of a hawk about to pounce upon its prey and rend it to atoms. + +But there was no fear about Guy, neither fear nor shame. Whatever +his sins had been, he had never flinched from the consequences. + +He answered without an instant's faltering: "Because we shall be +interrupted. We don't want a pack of women howling round. Also, +there are no weapons. You haven't even a _sjambok_." His eyes +gleamed suddenly. "And there isn't space enough to use it if you +had." + +"I don't need even a _sjambok_," Burke said, "to kill a rat like +you." + +"No. And I shan't die so hard as a rat either. All the same," Guy +spoke with quiet determination, "you can't do it here. Damn it, +man! Are you afraid I shall run away?" + +"No!" The answer came like a blow. "But I can't wait, you +accursed blackguard! I've waited too long already." + +"No, you haven't!" Guy straightened himself sharply, braced for +violence, for Burke was close to him and there was something of the +quality of a coiled spring in his attitude, a spring that a touch +would release. "Wait a minute, Burke! Do you hear? Wait a +minute? I'm everything you choose to call me. I'm a traitor, a +thief, and a blackguard. But I'm another thing as well." His +voice broke oddly and he continued in a lower key, rapidly, as if +he feared his strength might not last. "I'm a failure. I haven't +done this thing I tried to do. I never shall do it now. +Because--your wife--is incorruptible. Her loyalty is greater than +my--treachery." + +Again there sounded that curious catch in his voice as if a +remorseless hand were tightening upon his throat. But he fought +against it with a fierce persistence. He faced Burke with livid, +twitching lips. + +"God knows," he said in a passionate whisper, "whether she loves +you. But she will be true to you--as long as you live!" + +His words went into silence--a silence so tense that it seemed as +if it must end in furious action--as if a hurtling blow and a +crashing, headlong fall could be the only outcome. + +But neither came. After several rigid seconds Burke spoke, his +voice dead level, without a hint of emotion. + +"You expect me to believe that, do you?" + +Guy made a sharp movement that had in it more of surprise than +protest. His throat worked spasmodically for a moment or two ere +he forced it to utterance. + +"Don't you think," he said then, in a half-strangled undertone, +"that it would be a million times easier for me to let you +believe--otherwise?" + +"Why?" said Burke briefly. + +"Because--" savagely Guy flung back the answer--"I would rather be +murdered for what I've done than despised for what I've failed to +do." + +"I see," Burke said. "Then why not let me believe the obvious +without further argument?" + +There was contempt in his voice, but it was a bitter self-contempt +in which the man before him had no share. He had entered that room +with murder in his heart. The lust was still there, but he knew +now that it would go unsatisfied. He had been stopped, by what +means he scarcely realized. + +But Guy knew; and though it would have been infinitely easier, as +he had said, to have endured that first mad fury than to have +stayed it with a confession of failure, for some reason he forced +himself to follow the path of humiliation that he had chosen. + +"Because what you call the obvious chances also to be the +impossible," he said. "I'm not such a devil as to want to ruin her +for the fun of the thing. I tell you she's straight--as straight +as I am crooked. And you've got to believe in her--whether you +want to or not. That--if you like--is the obvious." He broke off, +breathing hard, yet in a fashion oddly triumphant, as if in +vindicating the girl he had somehow vindicated himself also. + +Burke looked at him fixedly for a few seconds longer. Then, +abruptly, as if the words were hard to utter, he spoke; "I believe +you." + +Guy relaxed with what was almost a movement of exhaustion, but in a +moment he braced himself again. "You shall have your satisfaction +all the same," he said. "I owe you that. Where shall I meet you?" + +Burke made a curt gesture as if dismissing a matter of but minor +importance, and turned to go. + +But in an instant, as if stung into action, Guy was before him. He +gripped him by the shoulder. "Man! Don't give me any of your +damned generosity!" He ground out the words between his teeth. +"Name a place! Do you hear? Name a place and time!" + +Burke stopped dead. His face was enigmatical as he looked at Guy. +There was a remote gleam in his stern eyes that was neither of +anger nor scorn. He stood for several seconds in silence, till the +hand that clutched his shoulder gripped and feverishly shook it. + +Then deliberately and with authority bespoke: "I'll meet you in my +own time. You can go back to your old quarters and--wait for me +there." + +Guy's hand fell from him. He stood for a moment as if irresolute, +then he moved aside. "All right. I shall go there to-day," he +said. + +And in silence Burke unbolted the door and went out. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE TRUTH + +When Burke presented himself at the door of the main bungalow he +found it half-open. The whirr of a sewing-machine came forth to +him, but it paused in answer to his knock, and Mrs. Merston's voice +bade him enter. + +He went in to find her seated at a plain wooden table with grey +flannel spread around her, her hand poised on the wheel of her +machine, which she drove round vigorously as he entered. Her light +eyes surveyed him in momentary surprise, and then fell straight +upon her work. A slightly deeper colour suffused her face. + +"You've come early," she said. + +"Good morning!" said Burke. + +She nodded without speaking, absorbed in her work. + +He came to a stand on the opposite side of the table, watching her. +He was quite well aware that Matilda Merston did not like him. She +had never scrupled to let him know it. The whirr of the machine +rose between them. She was working fast and furiously. + +He waited with absolute patience till she flung him a word. "Sit +down!" + +He seated himself facing her. + +Faster and faster spun the wheel. Matilda's thin lips were +compressed. Tiny beads appeared on her forehead. She was +breathing quickly. Suddenly there was a check, a sharp snap. She +uttered an impatient sound and stopped, looking across at her +visitor with undisguised hostility in her eyes. + +"I didn't do it," said Burke. + +She got up, not deigning a reply. "I suppose you'd like a drink," +she said. "Bill is out on the lands." + +His eyes comprehended her with a species of grim amusement. "No. +I won't have anything, thanks. I have come for my wife. Can you +tell me where she is ?" + +"You're very early," Matilda remarked again. + +He leaned his arms upon the table, looking up at her. "Yes. I +know. Isn't she up?" + +She returned his look with obvious disfavour. And yet Burke Ranger +was no despicable figure of manhood sitting there. He was broad, +well-knit, well-developed, clean of feature, with eyes of piercing +keenness. + +He met her frown with a faint smile. "Well?" he said. + +"Yes. Of course she is up." Grudgingly Matilda made answer. +Somehow she resented the clean-limbed health of these men who made +their living in the wilderness. There was something almost +aggressive about it. Abruptly she braced herself to give utterance +to her thoughts. "Why can't you leave her here a little longer? +She doesn't want to go back." + +"I think she must tell me that herself," Burke said. + +He betrayed no discomfiture. She had never seen him discomfited. +That was part of her grievance against him. + +"She won't do that," she said curtly. "She has old-fashioned ideas +about duty. But it doesn't make her like it any the better." + +"It wouldn't," said Burke. A gleam that was in no way connected +with his smile shone for a moment in his steady eyes, but it passed +immediately. He continued to contemplate the faded woman before +him very gravely, without animosity. "You have got rather fond of +Sylvia, haven't you?" he said. + +Matilda made an odd gesture that had in it something of vehemence. +"I am very sorry for her," she said bluntly. + +"Yes?" said Burke. + +"Yes." She repeated the word uncompromisingly, and closed her lips. + +"You're not going to tell me why?" he suggested. + +Her pale eyes grew suddenly hard and intensely bright. "Yes. I +should like to tell you," she said. + +He got up with a quiet movement. "Well, why?" he said. + +Her eyes flashed fire. "Because," she spoke very quickly, scarcely +pausing for breath, "you have turned her from a happy girl into a +miserable woman. I knew it would come. I saw it coming, I +knew--long before she did--that she had married the wrong man. And +I knew what she would suffer when she found out. She tried hard +not to find out; she did her best to blind herself. But she had to +face it at last. You forced her to open her eyes. And now--she +knows the truth. She will do her duty, because you are her husband +and there is no escape. But it will be bondage to her as long as +she lives. You have taken all the youth and the joy out of her +life." + +There was a fierce ring of passion in the words. For once Matilda +Merston glowed with life. There was even something superb in her +reckless denunciation of the man before her. + +He heard it without stirring a muscle, his eyes fixed unwaveringly +upon her, grim and cold as steel. When she ceased to speak, he +still stood motionless, almost as if he were waiting for something. + +She also waited, girt for battle, eager for the fray. But he +showed no sign of anger, and gradually her enthusiasm began to +wane. She bent, panting a little and began to smooth out a piece +of the grey flannel with nervous exactitude. + +Then Burke spoke. "So you think I am not the right man for her." + +"I am quite sure of that," said Matilda without looking up. + +"That means," Burke spoke slowly, with deliberate insistence, "that +you know she loves another man better." + +Matilda was silent. + +He bent forward a little, looking straight into her downcast face. +"Mrs. Merston," he said, "you are a woman; you ought to know. Do +you believe--honestly--that she would have been any happier married +to that other man?" + +She looked at him then in answer to his unspoken desire. He had +refused to do battle with her. That was her first thought, and she +was conscious of a momentary sense of triumph. Then--for she was a +woman--her heart stirred oddly within her, and her triumph was +gone. She met his quiet eyes with a sudden sharp misgiving. What +had she done? + +"Please answer me!" Burke said. + +And, in a low voice, reluctantly, she made answer. "I am afraid I +do." + +"You know the man?" he said. + +She nodded. "I believe--in time--she might have been his +salvation. Everybody thought he was beyond redemption. I know +that. But she--had faith. And they loved each other. That makes +all the difference." + +"Ah!" he said. + +For the first time he looked away from her, looked out through the +open door over the _veldt_ to that far-distant line of hills that +bounded their world. His brown face was set in stern, unwavering +lines. + +Furtively Matilda watched him, still with that uneasy feeling at +her heart. There was something enigmatical to her about this man's +hard endurance, but she did not resent it any longer. It awed her. + +Several seconds passed ere abruptly he turned and spoke. "I am +going back. Will you tell Sylvia? Say I can manage all right +without her if she is--happier here!" The barely perceptible pause +before the word made Matilda avert her eyes instinctively though +his face never varied. "I wish her to do exactly as she likes. +Good-bye!" + +He held out his hand to her suddenly, and she was amazed by the +warmth of his grasp. She murmured something incoherent about +hoping she had not been very unpleasant. It was the humblest +moment she had ever known. + +He smiled in reply--that faint, baffling smile. "Oh, not in the +least. I am grateful to you for telling me the truth. I am sure +you didn't enjoy it." + +No, to her own surprise, she had not enjoyed it. She even watched +him go with regret. There was that about Burke Ranger at the +moment which made her wonder if possibly the harsh conception she +had formed of him were wholly justified. + +As for Burke, he went straight out to his horses, looking neither +to right nor left, untied the reins, and drove forth again into the +_veldt_ with the dust of the desert rising all around him. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE STORM + +Hans Schafen met his master on the boundary of Blue Hill Farm with +a drawn face. Things were going from bad to worse. The drought +was killing the animals like flies. If the rain did not come soon, +there would be none left. He made his report to Burke with a +precision that did not hide his despair. Matters had never before +looked so serious. The dearth of water had begun to spell disaster. + +Burke listened with scarcely a comment. Blue Hill Farm was on +rising ground, and there had always been this danger in view. But +till this season it had never materialized to any alarming extent. +His position had often enough been precarious, but his losses had +never been overwhelming. The failure of the dam at Ritter Spruit +had been a catastrophe more far reaching than at the time he had +realized. It had crippled the resources of the farm, and flung him +upon the chances of the weather. He was faced with ruin. + +He heard Schafen out with no sign of consternation, and when he had +ended he drove on to the farm and stabled his horses himself with +his usual care. Then he went into his empty bungalow. . . + +Slowly the long hours wore away. The sun rose in its strength, +shining through a thick haze that was like the smoke from a +furnace. The atmosphere grew close and suffocating. An intense +stillness reigned without, broken occasionally by the despairing +bleating of thirst-stricken sheep. The haze increased, seeming to +press downwards upon the parched earth. The noonday was dark with +gathering clouds. + +At the hour of luncheon there came a slight stir in the bungalow. +Mary Ann thrust her amazing visage round the door and rolled her +eyes in frightened wonder at what she saw. The big _baas_ was +lying across the table, a prone, stricken figure, with his head +upon his arms. + +For a few seconds she stood in open-mouthed dismay, thinking him +dead; for she had never seen him thus in life. Then she saw his +shoulders heave convulsively, and promptly she turned and fled. + +Again the bungalow was empty and still, the hours dragged on +unheeded. Lower and lower pressed the threatening clouds. But the +man who sat alone in the darkening room was blind to all outward +things. He did not feel the pitiless, storm-laden heat of the day. +He was consumed by the agony of his soul. + +It was evening before the end came suddenly; a dancing flash that +lighted the heavens from east to west and, crashing upon it, an +explosion that seemed to rend the earth. It was a cataclysm of +sound, drowning the faculties, stunning the senses, brimming up the +void with awful tumult. + +A great start ran through the man's bowed figure. He sat up dazed, +stiffly opening his clenched hands. The world without seemed to be +running with fire. The storm shrieked over the _veldt_. It was +pandemonium. + +Stiffly he straightened his cramped muscles. His heart was +thumping in heavy, uneven strokes, obstructing his breathing. He +fought for a few seconds to fill his lungs. The atmosphere was +dense with sand. It came swirling in upon him, suffocating him. +He stood up, and was astounded to feel his own weakness against +that terrific onslaught. Grimly he forced his way to the open +window. The _veldt_ was alight with lurid, leaping flame. The +far-off hills stood up like ramparts in the amazing glare, stabbed +here and there with molten swords of an unendurable brightness. He +had seen many a raging storm before, but never a storm like this. + +The sand blinded him and he dragged the window shut, using all his +strength. It beat upon the glass with baffled fury. The thunder +rolled and echoed overhead like the chariot-wheels of God, shaking +the world. The clouds above the lightning were black as night. + +Suddenly far across the blazing _veldt_ he saw a sight that +tightened every muscle, sending a wild thrill through every nerve. +It came from the hills, a black, swift-moving pillar, seeming to +trail just above the ground, travelling straight forward through +the storm. Over rocks and past _kopjes_ it travelled, propelled by +a force unseen, and ever as it drew nearer it loomed more black and +terrible. + +He watched it with a grim elation, drawn irresistibly by its +immensity, its awfulness. Straight towards him it came, and the +lightning was dulled by its nearness and the thunder hushed. He +heard a swishing, whistling sound like the shriek of a shell, and +instinctively he gathered himself together for the last great shock +which no human power could withstand, the shattering asunder of +soul and body, the swift amazing release of the spirit. + +Involuntarily he shut his eyes as the thing drew near; but he did +not shrink, nor was there terror in his heart. + +"Thank God I shall die like a man!" he said through his set teeth. + +And then--while he waited tense and ready for the great revelation, +while all that was mortal in him throbbed with anguished +expectation--the monster of destruction swerved as if drawn by a +giant hand and passed him by. + +He opened his eyes upon a flicker of lightning and saw it whirling +onwards, growing ever in volume, towards the _kopje_ which Sylvia +had never conquered. The blackness of the sky above was appalling. +It hung so near, pressing earthwards through that mighty spout. + +With bated breath he watched till the _kopje_ was blotted from his +sight, and the demons of the storm came shrieking back. Then +suddenly there came a crash that shook the world and made the +senses reel. He heard the rush and swish of water, water +torrential that fell in a streaming mass, and as his understanding +came staggering back he knew that the first, most menacing danger +was past. The cloud had burst upon the _kopje_. + +The thunder was drowned in the rush of the rain. It descended in a +vast sheet through which the lightning leapt and quivered. The +light of day was wholly gone. + +The bungalow rocked on its foundations; the wrath of the tempest +beat around it as if it would sweep it away. The noise of the +falling rain was terrific. He wondered if the place would stand. + +Gradually the first wild fury spent itself, and though the storm +continued the sky seemed to lift somewhat, to recede as if the +swollen clouds were being drawn upwards again. In the glimmering +lightning the _veldt_ shone like a sea. The water must be deep in +the hollows, and he hoped none of the sheep had been caught. The +fact that the farm was on rising ground, though it had been exposed +to the full force of the storm, had been its salvation. He thought +of the Kaffir huts, and dismissed the idea of any serious danger +there. The stables, too, were safe for the same reason. It was +only on the lower ground beyond the _kopje_ that the flood could be +formidable. He thought of the watercourse, dry for so many weeks, +now without doubt a seething torrent. He thought with a sudden +leap of memory of the hut on the sand above. . . . + +"I shall go there to-day." How long was it since he had heard +those words? Had they indeed been uttered only that morning? Or +did they belong to an entirely different period of his life? He +felt as if many empty and bitter years had passed over him since +they had been spoken. Was it indeed but that morning that the +boy's eyes with their fierce appeal had looked into his--and he had +given him that stern command to await his coming? + +His hand went up to the fastening of the window. He knew Guy. +There was a strain of honour in his nature which nothing could ever +change. He would keep that sort of appointment or die in the +attempt. If he still lived--if that frightful cloudburst had not +overwhelmed him--he was there waiting above the raging torrent. + +The rain beat with a deafening rattle upon the roof of the _stoep_. +It was falling perfectly straight now as if a million taps were +running. And another memory flashed upon Burke as he stepped +forth,--the memory of a girl who had clung to him in just such +another downpour and begged him not to leave her. He heard the +accents of her voice, felt again the slender youthfulness of her +frame. He flung his arms wide with an anguished gesture. + +Another voice, keen-edged and ruthless, was cutting its way through +his soul, lacerating him, agonizing him. "And they loved each +other. That made all the difference." Ah, God, the bitter +difference that it made! + +He went down the steps up which he had lifted her on that first day +of her coming, and floundered into water that was half way to his +knees. The rain rushed down upon him, beating upon his uncovered +head. He was drenched to the skin in five seconds. + +The lightning flashes were less frequent now, and the darkness in +between less intense. He splashed his way cautiously round the +bungalow to the stable. + +A frightened whinnying greeted him. He heard the animals stamping +in the sodden straw, but the water was not so deep here. It +scarcely covered their hocks. + +He spoke reassuringly to them as he made his way to Diamond, +Sylvia's mount. Diamond had always been a favourite with him since +the day she had laid her face against his nose, refusing to doubt +him. By faith and love! By faith and love! + +He saddled the horse more by feeling than sight, and led him out. +The rain was still beating furiously down, but Diamond did not +flinch with his master's hand upon him. He stood firm while Burke +swung himself up. Then, with the lightning still flashing athwart +the gloom and the thunder rolling in broken echoes all around them, +they went down the track past the _kopje_ to find the hut on the +sand. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE SACRIFICE + +The sound of water, splashing, welling, overflowing, was +everywhere. It was difficult to keep the track, but Diamond trod +warily. He knew the _veldt_ by heart. Passing the _kopje_, the +rush of the water was like the spouting of a thousand springs. It +gurgled and raced over its scarred sides. The prickly pear bushes +hung flattened over the rocks. By the fitful gleam of the +lightning Burke saw these things. The storm was passing, though +the rain still beat down mercilessly. It would probably rain for +many hours; but a faint vague light far down on the unseen horizon +told of a rising moon. It would not be completely dark again. + +They splashed their way past the _kopje_, and immediately a loud +roaring filled his ears. As he had guessed the dry watercourse had +become a foaming torrent. Again a sharp anxiety assailed him. He +spoke to Diamond, and they turned off the track. + +The animal was nervous. He started and quivered at the +unaccustomed sound. But in a moment or two he responded to Burke's +insistence, and went down the sloping ground that led to the +seething water. + +Burke guided him with an unerring hand, holding him up firmly, for +the way was difficult and uneven. A vivid flash of lightning gave +him his direction, and by it he saw a marvellous picture. The +spruit had become a wide, dashing river. The swirl and rush of the +current sounded like a sea at high tide. The flood spread like an +estuary over the _veldt_ on the farther side, and he saw that the +bank nearest to him was brimming. + +The picture was gone in a moment, but it was registered indelibly +upon his brain. And the hut--Guy's hut--was scarcely more than +twenty yards from that swirling river which was rising with every +second. + +"He can't be there," he said aloud. But yet he knew that he could +not turn back till he had satisfied himself on this point. So, +with a word of encouragement to Diamond, he splashed onwards. + +Again the lightning flared torchlike through the gloom, but the +thunder of the torrent drowned the thunder overhead. He was +nearing the hut now, and found that in places the rain had so +beaten down the sandy surface of the ground that it sank and +yielded like a quagmire. He knew that it was only a matter of +minutes--possibly seconds--before the crumbling bank above the +stream gave way. + +He was close to the hut now, though still he assured himself that +the place was empty. The roar of the water was deafening, seeming +to numb the senses. He never knew afterwards whether a light +suddenly kindled as he drew near behind the canvas that screened +the hut-window, or if it had been there all along and the leaping +elusive lightning had blinded him to it. But the light was there +before him as he reached the place, and in a moment the knowledge +flashed upon him beyond all questioning that he had not come upon a +vain quest. + +He knew also with that menacing roar below him and the streaming +rain around that there was not a moment to be lost. He swung +himself from Diamond's back and secured the bridle to a projecting +piece of wood at the back of the hut. Then, floundering and +slipping at every step, he made his way round to the door. + +He groped for some seconds before he found it. It was closed and +he knew that there was no handle on the outside. He battered upon +it with his fist, shouting Guy's name. + +There came no answer to his summons, but the sound of the water +seemed to swell in volume, filling the night. It drove him to a +fierce impatience. If he had not seen the light he would scarcely +have taken the risk. None but a fool would have remained in such a +death-trap. But the presence of the light forced him on. He could +not leave without satisfying himself. He set his shoulder against +the closed door and flung the full weight of his body into one +stupendous effort to force an entrance. + +The wood cracked and splintered with the shock. He felt himself +pitching forward and grabbed at the post to save himself. The door +swung back upon its hinges, and he burst into the hut headlong. + +The flame of a candle glimmered in his eyes, momentarily dazzling +him. Then he heard a cry. A figure sprang towards him--a woman's +figure with outstretched arms waving him back! Was he dreaming? +Was he mad? It was Sylvia's face, white and agonized, that +confronted him--Sylvia's voice, but so strained that he hardly +recognized it, broken and beseeching, imploring him for mercy. + +"Oh, Burke--for God's sake--don't kill him! Don't kill him! I +will kill myself--I swear--if you do." + +He caught the outflung hands, gripping them hard, assuring himself +that this thing was no illusion. He looked into her eyes of wild +appeal. + +She attempted no, further entreaty, but she flung herself against +him, impeding him, holding him back. Over her shoulder he looked +for Guy; and found him. + +He was sitting crouched on a low trestle-bed at the further end of +the hut with his head in his hands. Burke turned to the girl who +stood palpitating, pressed against him, still seeking with all her +strength to oppose his advance. + +Her wide eyes met his. They were filled with a desperate fear. +"He is ill," she said. + +The roar of the rising water filled the place. The ground under +their feet seemed to be shaking. + +Burke looked down at the woman he held, and a deadly sensation +arose and possessed him. For the moment he felt sick with an +overpowering longing. The temptation to take her just as she was +and go was almost more than human endurance could bear. He had +undergone so much for her sake. He had suffered so fiery a +torture. The evil impulse gripped and tore him like a living thing. + +And then--was it the purity of those eyes upraised to his?--he was +conscious of a change within him. It was as if a quieting touch +had been laid upon him. He knew--quite suddenly he knew--what he +would do. The temptation and the anguish went out together like an +extinguished fire. He was his own master. + +He bent to her and spoke, his words clear above the tumult: "Help +me to save him! There is just a chance!" + +He saw the swift change in her eyes. She bent with a sharp +movement, and before he could stop her he felt her lips upon his +hand. They thrilled him with a strange exaltation. The memory of +that kiss would go with him to the very Gate of Death. + +Then he had reached Guy, was bending over him, raising him with +urgent hands. He saw the boy's face for a moment, ashen in the +flickering candlelight, and he knew that the task before him was +one which it would take his utmost strength to accomplish. But he +exerted it and dragged him to his feet, half-supporting, +half-carrying, him towards the open door, Sylvia helping on the +other side. The thought went through him that this was the last +act that they would perform in partnership. And somehow he knew +that she would remember it later in the same way. + +They reached the threshold. Guy was stumbling blindly. He seemed +to be dazed, scarcely conscious of his surroundings. The turmoil +of the water was terrific through the ceaseless rush of the rain. +With heads bent to the storm they forced their way out into the +tumult. + +They found Diamond tramping and snorting with fright at the back of +the hut, but to Burke's brief command and Sylvia's touch he stood +still. + +"Get up!" Burke said to the girl. + +But she started and drew back. "Oh no--no!" she cried back to him. +"I will go on foot." + +He said no more, merely turned and hoisted Guy upwards. He landed +in the saddle, instinctively gripping with his knees while Burke on +one side, Sylvia on the other, set his feet in the stirrups. + +Then still in that utter silence Burke went back to Sylvia. He had +lifted her before she was aware, and for one breathless moment he +held her. Then she also was up on the horse's back. He thrust her +hands away from him, pushing them into Guy's belt with a mastery +that would brook no resistance. + +"Wake up!" he yelled to Guy, and smote him on the thigh as he +dragged the bridle free. + +Then, slipping and sliding on the yielding ground, he pulled the +horse round, gave the rein, into Guy's clutching hand, and struck +the animal smartly on the flank. Diamond squealed and sprang +forward bearing his double burden, and in a moment he was off, +making for the higher ground and the track that led to the farm, +terrified yet blindly following the instinct that does not err. + +The sound of the scrambling, struggling hoofs was lost in the +strife of waters, the swaying figures disappeared in the gloom, and +the man who was left behind turned grimly and went back into the +empty hut. + +The candle still cast a flickering light over table and bed. He +stood with his back to the raging night and stared at the unsteady +flame. It was screened from extinction in the draught by a +standing photograph-frame. The picture this contained was turned +away from him. After a moment it caught his attention. He moved +round the table. Though Death were swooping towards him, swift and +certain, on the wings of the rising current, he was drawn as a +needle to the magnet. Like a dying man, he reached for the last +draught that should slake his thirst and give him peace in dying. + +He leaned upon the table, that creaked and shook beneath his +weight. He stretched forth his arms on each side of the candle, +and drew the portrait close to the flame. Sylvia's face laughed at +him through the shifting, uncertain light. She was standing on a +wind-blown open space. Her lips were parted. He thought he heard +her voice, calling him. And the love in her eyes--the love that +shone through the laughter! It held him like a spell--even though +it was not for him. + +He gazed earnestly upon this thing that had been another man's +treasure long before he had even seen her, and as he gazed, he +forgot all beside. By that supreme sacrifice of self, he had wiped +out all but his exceeding love for her. The spirit had triumphed +over the flesh. Love the Immortal to which Death is but a small +thing had lifted him up above the world. . . . + +What was it that suddenly pierced him as he leaned there? No sound +above that mighty tumult could possibly have reached him. No +movement beyond that single flickering flame could have caught his +vision. No touch was laid upon him. Yet suddenly he jerked +upright with every nerve a-quiver--and beheld her! + +She stood in the doorway, gasping for breath, clinging to the +woodwork for support, with Death behind her, but no fear of Death +in her eyes. They held instead a glory which he had never seen +before. + +He stood and gazed upon her, unbelieving, afraid to move. His lips +formed her name. And, as one who springs from tempest into safe +shelter, Sylvia sprang to him. Her arms were all about him before +he knew that she was not a dream. + +He clasped her then with such a rush of wonder and joy as nearly +deprived him of the power to think. And in that moment their lips +met in a kiss that was close and sacred, uniting each to each +beyond all severance--a soul communion. + +Burke was trembling as she had never known him tremble before. +"Why--have you come back?" he said, as speech returned. + +She answered him swiftly and passionately, clinging faster with the +words: "Because--God knows--I would rather die with you--than--than +live without you! I love you so! Oh, don't you understand?" + +Yes, he understood, though all else were beyond his comprehension. +Never again would he question that amazing truth that had burst +upon him here at the very Gate of Death, changing the whole world. + +He looked down upon her as he held her, the light from the candle +shining through her hair, her vivid face uplifted to his, her eyes +wide and glowing, seeing him alone. No, he needed no words to tell +him that. + +And then suddenly the roar without increased a hundredfold. A +shrieking wind tore past, and in a moment the flickering light went +out. They stood in darkness. + +Her arms clasped his neck more closely. He felt the coming agony +in her hold. She spoke again, her lips against his own. "Through +the grave--and Gate of Death--" she said. + +That aroused him. A strength that was titanic entered into him. +Why should they wait here for Death? At least they would make a +fight for it, however small their chance. He suddenly realized +that mortal life had become desirable again--a thing worth fighting +for--a precious gift. + +He bent, as he had bent on that first night at the farm--how long +ago!--and gathered her up into his arms. + +A rush of water swirled about his knees as he made for the dim +opening. The bank had gone. Yet the rise in the ground would give +them a few seconds. He counted upon the chance. Out into the open +he stumbled. + +The water was up to his waist here. He floundered on the yielding +ground. + +"Don't carry me!" she said. "I can wade too. Let me hold your +hand!" + +But he would not let her go out of his arms. His strength in that +moment was as the strength of ten. He knew that unless the flood +actually overwhelmed him, it would not fail. + +So, slipping, struggling, fighting, he forced his way, and, like +Diamond, he was guided by an instinct that could not err. Thirty +seconds after they left it, the hut on the sand was swept away by +the hungry waters, but those thirty seconds had been their +salvation. They had reached the point where the ground began to +rise towards the _kopje_, and though the water still washed around +them the force of it was decreasing at every step, + +As they reached the foot of the _kopje_ itself, a stream of +moonlight suddenly rushed down through the racing clouds, revealing +the whole great waste of water like a picture flung upon a screen. + +Burke's breath came thick and laboured; yet he spoke. "We are +saved!" he said. + +"Put me down now!" she urged. "Please put me down!" + +But still he would not, till he had climbed above the seething +flood, and could set her feet upon firm ground. And even then he +clasped her still, as if he feared to let her go. + +They stood in silence, holding fast to one another while the +moonlight flickered in and out, and Burke's heart gradually +steadied again after the terrific struggle. The rain had almost +ceased. Only the sound of the flood below and the gurgle of a +hundred rivulets around filled the night. + +Sylvia's arm pressed upon Burke's neck. "Shall we go--right to the +top?" she said. + +"The top of what?" He turned and looked into her eyes as she stood +above him. + +She bent to him swiftly, throbbing, human, alive. She held his +face between her hands, looking straight back for a space. Then +with a little quivering laugh, she bent lower and kissed him. + +"I think you're right, partner," she said. "We don't need to +go--any farther than this. We've--got there." + +He caught her to him with a mastery that was dearer to her in that +moment than any tenderness, swaying her to his will. "Yes--we've +got there!" he said, and kissed her again with lips that trembled +even while they compelled. "But oh, my soul--what a journey!" + +She clung to him more closely, giving of her all in full and sweet +surrender. "And oh, my soul," she laughed back softly--"what an +arrival!" + +And at that they laughed together, triumphant as those who have the +world at their feet. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +BY FAITH AND LOVE + +The flood went down in the morning, and behind it there sprang into +being a new world of softest, tenderest green in place of the +brown, parched desert that had been. Mary Ann stood at the door of +her hut and looked at it with her goggle-eyes in which the fright +of the storm was still very apparent. + +Neither she nor her satellites would go near the house of the +_baas_ that morning, for a dread shadow lay upon it into which they +dared not venture. The _baas_ himself was there. He had driven +her into the cooking-hut a little earlier and compelled her to +prepare a hot meal under his stern supervision. But even the +_baas_ could not have forced her to enter the bungalow. For by +some occult means Mary Ann knew that Death was waiting there, and +the wrath of the gods was so recent that she had not courage left +for this new disaster. + +Diamond had brought his burden safely out of the storm, and was now +comfortably sheltered in his own stable. But the man who had +ridden him had been found hours later by the big _baas_ face +downwards on the _stoep_, and now he lay in the room in which he +had lain for so long, with breathing that waxed and waned and +sometimes stopped, and eyes that wandered vaguely round as though +seeking something which they might never find. + +What were they looking for? Sylvia longed to know. In the hush of +that room with the light of the early morning breaking through, it +seemed to her that those eyes were mutely waiting for a message +from Beyond. They did not know her even when they rested upon her +face. + +She herself was worn out both physically and mentally, but she +would not leave him. And so Burke had brought in the long chair +for her and made her lie down while she watched. He brought her +food also, and they ate together in the quiet room where the +ever-changing breathing of the man upon the bed was the only sound. + +He would have left them alone then, but she whispered to him to +come back. + +He came and bent over her. "I'll smoke on the _stoep_," he said. +"You have only to raise your voice if you want-me, and I shall +hear." + +She slipped her arms about his neck, and drew him down to her. "I +want you--all the time," she whispered. + +He kissed her on lips and hair, but he would not stay. She heard +him pass out on to the _stoep_, and there fell a deep silence. + +It seemed to lap her round like a vast and soundless sea. +Presently she was drifting upon it, sometimes dipping under, +sometimes bringing herself to the surface with a deliberate effort +of the will, lest Guy should come back and need her. She was +unutterably tired, and the rest was balm to her weary soul, but +still, she fought against complete repose, until, like the falling +of a mist, oblivion came at last very softly upon her, and she sank +into the deeps of slumber. . . . + +It must have been some time later that something spoke within her, +recalling her. She raised herself quickly and looked at Guy to +find his eyes no longer roving but fixed upon her. She thought his +breathing must be easier, for he spoke without effort. + +"Fetch Burke!" he said. + +She started up to obey. There was that about Guy at the moment +which she had never seen before, a curious look of knowledge, a +strength new-born that, was purely spiritual. But ere she reached +the window, Burke was there. He came straight in and went to Guy. +And she knew that the end was very near. + +Instinctively she drew back as the two men met. She had a strong +feeling that her presence was not needed, was almost an intrusion. +Yet she could not bring herself to go, till suddenly Burke turned +to her and drew her forward. + +"He wants you to say good-bye to him," he said, "and then--to go." + +It was very tenderly spoken. His hand pressed her shoulder, and +the pressure was reassuring, infinitely sustaining. + +She bent over Guy. He looked straight up at her, and though the +mystery of Death was in his eyes they held no fear. They even +faintly smiled upon her. + +"Good-bye, darling!" he said softly. "Think of me sometimes--when +you've nothing better to do!" + +She found and clasped his hand. "Often!" she whispered. "Very +often!" + +His fingers pressed hers weakly. "I wish--I'd made good," he said. + +She bent lower over him. "Ah, never mind now!" she said. "That is +all over--forgiven long ago." + +His eyes still sought hers with that strange intentness. "I never +loved---anyone but you, Sylvia," he said. "You'll remember that. +It's the only thing in all my life worth remembering. Now go, +darling! Go and rest! I've got--to talk to Burke--alone." + +She kissed him on the forehead, and then, a moment later, on the +lips. She knew as she went from him that she would never hear his +voice again on earth. + + * * * * * + +She went to her own room and stood at the window gazing out upon +that new green world that but yesterday had been a desert. The +thought of her dream came upon her, but the bitterness and the +fears were all gone from her heart. The thing she had dreaded so +unspeakably had come and passed. The struggle between the two men +on that path which could hold but one was at an end. The greater +love had triumphed over the lesser, but even so the lesser had not +perished. Dimly she realized that Guy's broken life had not been +utterly cast away. It seemed to her that already--there at the +Gate of Death--he had risen again. And she knew that her agonized +prayer had found an answer at last. Guy was safe. + +It was a long time before Burke came to her. When he did, it was +to find her in a chair by the window with her head pillowed on the +table, sunk in sleep. But she awoke at his coming, looking at him +swiftly with a question in her eyes which his as swiftly answered. +He came and knelt beside her, and gathered her into his arms. + +She clung to him closely for a while in silence, finding peace and +great comfort in his hold. Then at length, haltingly she spoke. + +"Burke,--you--forgave him?" + +"Yes," he said. + +She lifted her face and kissed his neck. "Burke, you +understand--I--couldn't forsake him--then?" + +"I understand," he said, drawing her nearer. "You couldn't forsake +anyone in trouble." + +"Oh, not just that," she said. "I loved him so. I couldn't help +it. I--had to love him." + +He was silent for a few seconds, and the wonder stirred within her +if perhaps even now he could misunderstand her. And then he spoke, +his voice very low, curiously uneven. "I know. I loved him, too. +That was--the hell of it--for me." + +"Oh, Burke--darling!" she said. + +He drew a hard breath, controlling himself with an effort. "I'd +have cut off my right hand to save him, but it was no good. It +came to me afterwards--that you were the one who might have done +it. But it was too late then. Besides--besides--" he spoke as if +something within him battled fiercely for utterance--"I couldn't +have endured it--standing by. Not you--not you!" + +She put up a hand, and stroked his face. "I belonged to you from +the first moment I saw you," she said. + +"Sylvia!" He moved abruptly, taking her by the shoulders so that +he might look into her eyes. "That is--the truth?" he said. + +She met his look steadfastly. "Of course it is the truth!" she +said. "Could I tell you anything else?" + +He held her still. "But--Sylvia----" + +Her hands were clasped against his breast. "It is the truth," she +said again. "I didn't realize it myself at first. It came to +me--quite suddenly--that day of the sand-storm--the day Guy saved +your life." + +"Ah!" he said. + +She went on with less assurance. "It frightened me--when I knew. +I was so afraid you would find out." + +"But why?" he said. "Why?" + +She shook her head, and suddenly her eyes fell before his. She +looked almost childishly ashamed. + +"Won't you tell me why?" he said. + +She made a small, impulsive movement of protest. "I +didn't--quite--trust you," she said. + +"But you knew I loved you!" he said. + +She shook her head again with vehemence. "I didn't know--I didn't +know! How could I? Why, you have never told me so--even now." + +"Great heavens!" he said, as if aghast. + +Very oddly his unexpected discomfiture restored her confidence. +She faced him again. "It doesn't matter now," she said. "You +needn't begin at this stage. I've found out for myself--as you +might have done long ago if you hadn't been quite blind. But I'm +rather glad, after all, that you didn't, because--you learnt to +trust me without. It was dear of you to trust me, Burke. I don't +know how you managed it." + +"I would trust you to the world's end--blindfold," he said. "I +know you." + +"Yes, now. But you didn't then. When you found me in the +hut--with Guy," her voice quivered a little--"you didn't +know--then--that I was with him because he was too ill to be there +alone." + +"And to protect him from me," Burke said. + +"Yes; that too." She laid her cheek suddenly against his hand. +"Forgive me for that!" she said. + +He drew her head back to his shoulder. "No--you had reason enough +for fearing me," he said. "God alone knows what brought you back +to me." + +She leaned against him with a little sigh. "Yes, He knows," she +said softly, "just as He knows what made you stay behind to die +alone. It was the same reason with us both. Don't you understand?" + +His arms grew close about her. His lips pressed her forehead. +"Yes," he said. "Yes, I understand." + +They spoke later of Kieff and the evil influence he had exerted +over Guy. + +"The man was his evil genius," Burke said. "But I couldn't keep +him away when the boy was damaged and there was no one else to +help." He paused a moment. "He was the only man in the world I was +ever afraid of," he said then. "He had an uncanny sort of strength +that I couldn't cope with. And he was such a fiend. When he tried +to get you into his toils--frankly, I was terrified. He had +dragged down so many," + +"And you think--Guy--might have been different but for him?" Sylvia +questioned. + +"Yes. I believe I could have kept him straight if it hadn't been +for Kieff. He and Piet Vreiboom were thick as thieves, and between +them the boy got pulled under. I was beat, and Kelly, too." + +"Mr. Kelly!" Sylvia gave a slight start; that name reminded her. +"Burke, do you know--I owe him money? I've got to tell you about +that." + +She paused in rather painful hesitation; it was hard to tell him +even now what she had sacrificed so much to hide. + +But he stopped her. "No. You needn't. I know all about it. I +put Kelly up to the job. The money was mine." + +"Burke!" She stared at him in astonishment. "You--knew!" + +He nodded. "I guessed a little. And I made Donovan do the rest. +You were so upset about it. Something had to be done." + +"Oh, Burke!" she said again. + +He went on. "Guy told me all about it too--only a little while +ago. He made a clean breast of everything. He was--awfully +penitent. Look here! We'll forget all that, won't we? Promise me +you'll forget it!" He spoke rapidly, just as Guy would have spoken. +She saw that he was deeply moved. "I was a devil ever to doubt +you. I want to be sure--to be certain sure--that you'll never +think of it again--that you'll forget it all--as if it had never +been." + +The earnest appeal in his eyes almost startled her. It brought the +quick tears to her own. She gave him both her hands. "I shall +only remember--one thing," she said. "And that is--your great +goodness to me--from beginning to end." + +He made a sound of dissent, but she would not hear. + +"I am going to remember that always, for it is the biggest thing in +my life. And now, Burke, please tell me--for I've got to know--are +we quite ruined?" + +He gave her an odd look. "What made you think of that?" + +She coloured a little. "I don't know. I have been thinking about +it a great deal lately. Anyhow," she met his look almost +defiantly, "I've a right to think of it, haven't I? We're +partners." + +"You've a right to do anything that seems good to you," he said. +"I am not absolutely down and out, but I'm pretty near it. There +isn't much left." + +She squeezed his hands hard, hearing the news with no hint of +dismay. Her eyes were shining with the old high courage. "Never +mind, partner! We'll pull up again," she said. "We're a sound +working proposition, aren't we?" + +He drew her suddenly and closely into his arms. "My own brave +girl!" he said. + + * * * * * + +Bill Merston came over in the evening, summoned by one of Burke's +Kaffirs, and they buried Guy under the shadow of the _kopje_ in +what in a few more days would be a paradise of flowers. The sun +was setting far away in an opalescent glow of mauve and pink and +pearl. And the beauty of it went straight to Sylvia's heart. + +She listened to the Burial Service, read by Merston in his simple +sincere fashion, and she felt as if all grief or regret were +utterly out of place. She and Burke, standing hand in hand, had +been lifted above earthly things. And again there came to her the +thrilling certainty that Guy was safe. She wondered if, in his own +words, he had forgotten it all and started afresh. + +Merston could not stay for the night. He looked at Sylvia rather +questioningly at parting. + +She smiled in answer as she gave him her hand. "Give my love to +Matilda!" she said. "Say I am coming to see her soon!" + +"Is that all?" he said. + +She nodded. "Yes, that's all. No--one thing more!" She detained +him a moment. "Thank her for all she has done for me, and tell her +I have found the right mixture at last! She will understand, +or--if she doesn't--I will give her the recipe when I come." + +He frowned at her with masculine curiosity. "What is it for? A +new kind of pickles?" + +She turned from him. Her face was deeply flushed. "No. It's a +thing called happiness. Don't forget to tell her! Good-bye!^ + +"Then in heaven's name, come soon!" said Merston, as he mounted his +horse. + + * * * * * + +When he was gone, they mounted the _kopje_ together, still hand in +hand. + +The way was steep, but they never rested till they reached the top. +The evening light was passing, but the sky was full of stars. The +_spruit_ was a swift-flowing river below them. They heard the rush +of its waters--a solemn music that seemed to fill the world. + +Sylvia turned her face to the north, and the long, dim range of +hills beyond the _veldt_. + +"We will go beyond some day," Burke said. + +She held his hand very fast. "I don't mind where we go, partner, +so long as we go together," she said. + +He drew something out of his pocket and held it out to her. "I've +got to give you this," he said. + +She looked at him in surprise. "Burke! What is it?" + +"It's something Guy left to you," he said, "with his love. I +promised to give it you to-night. Take it, won't you?" + +She took it, a small object wrapped in paper, strangely heavy for +its size. "What is it?" she said again. + +"Open it!" he said. + +She complied, trembling a little. "Oh--Burke!" she said. + +It lay in her hand, a rough stone like a small crystal, oddly +shaped. The last of the evening light caught it, and it gleamed as +if with living fire. + +"The diamond!" she whispered. + +"Yes--the diamond." Burke spoke very quietly. "He gave it to me +just before he died. 'Tell her she is not to keep it!' he said. +'She is to sell it. I won it for her, and she is to make use of +it.'" + +"But--it is yours really," Sylvia said. + +"No. It is yours." Burke spoke with insistence. "But I think he +is right. You had better sell it. Vreiboom and some of +Hoffstein's gang are after it. They don't know yet who won it. +Donovan covered Guy's tracks pretty cleverly. But they'll find +out. It isn't a thing to keep." + +She turned to him impulsively. "You take it, partner!" she said. +"It was won with your money, and no one has a greater right to it." + +"It is yours," he insisted. + +She smiled. "Very well. If it's mine, I give it to you; and if +it's yours you share it with me. We are partners, aren't we? +Isn't that what Guy intended?" + +He smiled also. "Well--perhaps." + +She put it into his hand and closed his fingers over it. "There's +no perhaps about it. We'll take it back to Donovan, and make him +sell it. And when we've done that--" She paused. + +"Yes?" he said. + +She pushed her hand through his arm. "Would it bore you very much, +partner, to take me back to England--just--for a little while? I +want to see my daddy again and tell him how happy I am. He'll like +to know." + +"Of course I will take you," he said. + +"Thank you." Her hand pressed his arm. "And then we'll come back +here. I want to come back here, Burke. It isn't--a land of +strangers to me any more. It's just--the top of the world. Shall +I tell you--would you like me to tell you--how we managed to get +here?" + +His arm went round her. "I think I know." + +She turned her face to his. "By faith--and love, my darling," she +said. "There is--no other way. You taught me that." + +He kissed her fervently, with lips that trembled. "I love you with +my whole soul," he told her, with sudden passion. "God knows how I +love you!" + +She gave herself to him with a little quivering laugh. "Do you +know, partner," she said, "I wanted you to tell me that? I've been +wanting it--for ever so long." + +And they were nearer to the stars above them in that moment than to +the world that lay at their feet. + + + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Top of the World, by Ethel M. 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