on the afternoon of the last of those november days maud neville chose again the road to pelican pool. she had learned of power's banishment until dark to a corner of the run, and so might take the way without fear of a meeting. time, if a slow leech, was proving of service, and misery had been exchanged for a jog-along content.
the picture was discovering its proportions, and, from the chair of justice, she could examine it and pronounce verdict. it was crudely drawn when studied thus. a man ran crying for a prize which he would throw away as soon as gained. he demanded the meagre thing because it stayed out of reach. there was humour in the picture if one was in the mood to see it.
to-day an idea had come, building itself to shape during the morning. as a result, when lunch was over, she had saddled the chestnut horse again and taken the road to the river.
as she left the stable, mr. king crossed to the office. he waited for her in the path, and she pulled up the horse.
"aren't you very energetic so early in the day?"
"one has to do something for a change, even if one becomes energetic. life is rather like those travelling shows that find the way here sometimes. you have to clap and laugh loud in case you yawn your head off."
"i would sooner yawn than clap on a day like this. where are you off to?"
"somewhere. anywhere. as the spirit shall move."
she felt friendly towards this man, who stood wrinkling his face at the sunlight—a little slow, a little stout, and rather middle-aged. he too was tangled in this stupid net. could he have guessed it, she was in no better case than he. he might have guessed it. the laugh might be his as much as hers.
"sometimes life moves fast enough to prevent one yawning," he said.
"so you have told me lately. then you still look for copper by pelican pool? you are a good miner, mr. king. you follow the lode to its end."
"did you think the fool ever learns from his folly?" he said.
"as much as the wise man garners from his wisdom."
"what, the sage is the fool grown old and bloodless?"
"why not the spectator who leaves the arena to watch from the box."
"but will he seek the box, before he has lost in the arena? first, must he not be broken by the other wrestlers, and come second in the footrace?"
"perhaps so, mr. king."
"i must get under the tree, here. the sun never agrees with me after lunch. that's better. now i am ready for your profoundest philosophy. have you any for me?"
"mr. king, i want you to be serious for once."
"what do you want?"
"now don't be angry. do you think it right to run after this girl? she is very young."
"right? there are no such things as right or wrong."
"i said be serious."
"i am serious. there are no such things as right or wrong. mark me the virtuous one. find me the sinner. some are born godly—a fig then for their virtue. some have no wish for narrow ways. who shall point a finger at them? some struggle and win or lose. they who win have been lent strength—where then their[pg 253] virtue? they who lose were denied aid. where is their vice? foolish human souls all of us, given the hopes of angels and the bodies of beasts."
"fine big words, mr. king."
"and if virtue exists, where is its reward? does the gardener turn his spade from the worm that tills his garden. does the fowler cast less wide his net lest he trap the song bird that soothed him overnight. the old ox to the shambles. the old horse to the knacker."
"come, i am not to be bluffed. don't you think you ought to leave such a child alone?"
"but why must i let be and others go on? besides, her arms are very wide."
"how can you talk like that, mr. king. i thought you were fond of her. you have made me angry now."
she drew the reins together and stockings passed at a fast walk across the plain. presently the green belt of the river had risen out of the horizon, and later they had come among the first trees. as she was carried into the nobler timber, and saw the ribbons of water among laced boughs, and met the pleasant play of light and shade, and felt the cooler ways, and heard the call of birds in hidden places, the charm of this quiet spot beside the river affected her magically as it had done three weeks before. indeed,[pg 254] this time she felt better able to face circumstance. then she had been an untried soldier, firm enough of purpose, but one whom the first whistle of bullets had shocked. three weeks of war had proven her.
she rode' to the edge of the water. she found the fair scene had no whit altered—unless the margin of the pool had shrunken—unless the great white lilies had tired of blooming, and slept now beneath the water until another year should revive them—unless the sun, climbed higher in the sky, stared down more unkindly.
after a space spent thus, with stockings standing beneath her like a rock, she turned over what was to be done. she frowned a little and nursed her lip. it was not a pleasant errand she had come on, nor one with a beginning easy to find. she had come to talk with the girl that lived here, and bring her to a decision. she must give jim yes or no. let her have him if she wanted; but let her say so. this could not go on. his character was being sapped away. let the girl take him and he would have what he wanted, or let her send him away and he must pull himself together. it did not matter to her—maud. things had gone too far. the worst had been over a long time, and she could look the future in the face. she was sure she did not care now as acutely as once she had[pg 255] done. she would do him this kindness for old times sake, and then she must begin to put him out of her life. but it was a hateful business. she might meet scorn at the girl's hands—worse, jim might hear of her errand and think she was willing to throw pride away, if by hook or by crook she could clutch back his affection. well, love must go on many services, and the trusted servant travels always by unkindest ways.
she ordered stockings forward, and he backed from the edge of the pool into the trees and followed the bridle path where soon the camp would discover itself. the gentle birds piped them down their passage. the hut came out among the trees. it looked mean and shabby from long wooing by the weather. the hessian walls were drooping and the tents had crumbled.
she pulled up the horse before he had carried her from the shelter of the trees. she was disturbed again as to what to do. she must pretend to come that way by chance. and how do that? she might ride up to the door and ask for a cup of water. and then father or mother might open to her. well, things would happen as they would happen, and wit was the serving man to enlist.
when she was ready to give stockings the[pg 256] signal to advance, he lifted his ears. she followed their direction and discovered she was watched. next instant she found the watcher was the girl she had come to find. the child must have gone among the trees to gather dead branches for firewood, and now stood there among the trunks, as still as they, staring at her boldly. the figure might have been a dryad pausing on the instant before flight. its loveliness wounded her as though a dart had been cast at her. who could look upon such beauty and after be content with less? she touched the flank of her big horse, and he carried her across the space still to traverse. he came to full stop when she tightened the reins.
she must be the first to speak. the girl had stood unmoved the while, looking her boldly in the face. she wondered if she guessed her name from hearsay.
"that must be hot work for the middle of the day. it would have waited for evening. but i'm setting no better example, am i, riding about the country like this? i was glad to find these trees."
she looked the girl over from head to foot. she judged her to be eighteen years old or no more than nineteen, but a flower which had come quick to bloom. she looked her over with uncharitable eyes, but nowhere found fault. she[pg 257] gave up the task to tell herself never had she seen such beauty. the girl returned stare for stare.
"i was gettin' a few sticks together," moll gregory answered. "dad went off without chopping a thing this morning, and we've run short."
"are you in a hurry to be back with them?"
"no. why?"
"i've made myself hot. this looks a nice place to spend a minute or two. will you keep me company a little while? i must soon go on."
maud dismounted, the better to push matters forward. as she patted the old horse she looked about for a seat. a fallen tree lay at hand, and she dropped the reins upon the ground and sat down upon it. moll gregory stood where she was, her eyes wide open. it seemed solitude had not taught her to be shy. it occurred to maud she must not delay. at any moment the father or mother might come out of the doorway and opportunity be gone.
"you have a lovely place to live in," she said. "but you must find it out of the way. it's a long fag to surprise."
"it's a treat for us. there isn't too much doing round here."
"i dare say. but loneliness has not kept you quite hidden. you are better known than you may think. i had heard of you before we met to-day. you are moll gregory, aren't you? you know a friend of mine. mr. power, of kaloona. he told me about you once. he said he had met you in his travels."
the eyes which looked at her big with curiosity fell asleep all in a moment. but the change made their loveliness no less lovely.
"yes, i know mr. power."
"i'm a great friend of his. we have been friends a long time. almost brother and sister. we tell each other most secrets."
she wished the girl would say something. but instead, moll gregory continued to stand before her, beautiful and sulky. it was the sense of hurry in the matter that found her courage to go on. "yes, we are pretty staunch friends," she said desperately. she took courage in both hands. "he told me how fond he had become of you lately."
"mr. power is a poor sort of feller to go running about with tales."
the insult brought speech crowding into her mouth. "when you know mr. power a little better you will find him to be no very expert merchant of stories. friend to friend is an honest enough matter. and as a matter of fact——" she stopped. she had not courage to say she had been her own bloodhound.
"well, and what about it?"
"i suppose there's not much to say about it, is there, since it's no affair of mine? but i hear my friend has little enough to be glad over, for it seems you don't care much for him. i'm his friend, and so i'm sorry. that's all."
"he thinks that, do he?"
"and is it true?"
"that's my business, isn't it?"
"it's nobody's business that i have ever heard to let a man make himself miserable, and for his pains give him neither no or yes."
"a girl don't always ask a man to come crying after her. you don't expect a girl to nurse every man that runs at her skirt."
"there is such a thing as kindness."
moll gregory shrugged her shoulders.
"don't think mr. power sent me here to plead for him. he can look after himself in most cases i have found. but i am so great a friend of his that it distresses me to see him so unhappy. the quicker he is sent about his business the sooner he will find cure. i hate to interfere; but it was for old acquaintance sake i came along to-day to ask you to help me put things into better shape. i tell you mr. power is a changed man this last month. it hurts me keenly to see him come to this."
"i will tell him the worry he's givin' you."
"you must never say a word about this visit."
"why not? you are a kind friend."
"you must not say one word."
"not say miss neville called? the miss neville as was going to marry him."
she could have cried aloud at the hurt, and the next moment a cold courage possessed her. "you cannot hurt me like that," she said in a level voice, "and i have done my best to take care of your feelings. true, i am engaged to mr. power, and we should have been married had he not become fond of you. i have spent a good many unhappy hours lately, as no doubt you suppose; but no anxieties of my own would have brought me here to haggle and bargain. that might have happened when i lost my head in the beginning; but i have had long enough to look things in the face and accept what must be. understand me then, i am still fond of mr. power in spite of what has happened and i want to do what i can to help. if you have ever loved a man, you will believe me. if you don't know what love is, you will have to think as you like, and i suppose i shall be none the worse or better for the verdict."
"there's others have been in love besides you, miss neville. there's others have had their kisses."
"kisses! i mean something more than kisses.[pg 261] when you are older you won't weigh love by kisses. you will find love grows deeper down than the kisses that stop in the doorway of your mouth. you will find love sending you on errands like this one i am come on to-day, and you will be grateful enough to run them, though all you buy is rudeness and scorn. love is a queer plant when you sow it properly. it makes shade for some one man, and you find yourself glad to sit in the open and watch it grow. come, i am talking wildly again."
"have him if he's to be got. i'm not breaking my heart what comes."
"don't let us quarrel. i know you've not asked for my visit. i shall be glad enough to find it done; but we have come together, and let us see together a little while. i have made a bad beginning. i meant to speak gently."
moll gregory turned away impatiently. it seemed they had come to a deadlock; but help was at hand. there were the sounds of steps, and a man of moulting appearance with tools upon his shoulder came out of the trees towards the hut. he was passing out of their direction, but he threw a glance over his shoulder before going far on the way. he saw them at once, and stopped.
"hullo, moll, gel, out of doors? and a visitor, too. why, it's miss neville from surprise." he[pg 262] came across at a clumsy, fawning run. "it's miss neville, and i'm very pleased to meet you. you may have heard of me from the old gentleman your father. as nice an old gentleman as one would meet in a day's work. miss neville, to be sure, doin' us this honour. miss neville come our way." a dirty hand was pushed forward. gregory began to hump his shoulders, pluck his beard and swell his chest. "well, miss neville, and what can have brought you all this way in the heat?"
"i was passing and thought it looked cool among the trees. but i must be away again. i've rested long enough."
maud moved towards the horse; but gregory became more friendly. "you won't be gettin' back yet, miss neville? oh, no, miss neville, we can't let you go. the missis is inside there. moll here can get tea going in a minute. mother! are you there?"
the woman came out of the house, and stared in their direction.
"miss neville from surprise has come our way. you can give her a taste of tea, can't yer? come inside, miss neville. yes, we folk will be in a bad way when we have no seat for miss neville. a-haw, haw, haw! a-haw, haw, he, haw!"
"no thanks, i'm sorry. i must be going at[pg 263] once. if i am round these parts again i won't forget to call and find out who is at home. i must be going at once. i'm sorry to look so rude."
"come, miss neville, it's not many visitors ride our way. we've not much to offer, but its our best when you comes. the show has gone down into a hundred foot of rock, and storekeepers aren't too flash with tick just now. but there's always our best for miss neville."
there seemed a press about the horse, but maud was firm in purpose and mounted. she hated the greedy face of the man. she liked no better the lovely features of the girl. she was in a rage with herself for considering the undertaking. the man and the woman in the doorway of the hut were exchanging glances at her back.
"good-bye," she said, as she drew together the reins. "you mustn't think me rude, but i have to get along."
she would have walked over the man had he not stepped out of the way.
