The Triumph of Hilary Blachland

  CHAPTER TWELVE.

  A TURN OF THE WHEEL.

  "Oh, lucky Jim! How I envy hi-im! Oh-h, Lucky Jim--

  "Get up, old sportsman! It's time for `scoff.'" And the singer thusbreaking off from song to prose, dives his head into the tent door, andapostrophises about six-foot-one of recumbent humanity.

  "All right, Jack! A fellow isn't dead that it requires all thatinfernal row to wake him," retorts Justin Spence, rather testily, forhis dreams in the heat of the blazing forenoon have been all of love androses, and the brusque awakening from such to the rough delights of aprospector's camp in the wilds of sultry Mashunaland, is likely not tosupply a soothing contrast.

  His partner takes no notice of the passing ill-humour save for a lightlaugh, as he returns to his former occupation, the superintending andpart assisting at, a certain cooking process under the shade of a tree,effected by a native boy and now nearly completed. A tent and a smallwaggon supply the residential quarters, the latter for the "boys," whoturn in on the ground underneath it--the former for their masters. A"scherm" of chopped boughs encloses the camp, and within this thedonkeys are safeguarded at night: a case of learning wisdom byexperience, for already two of these useful little animals have fallen aprey to lions through being left thus unprotected. Just outside this isa partially sunken shaft, surmounted by a rude windlass.

  "What have we got for `scoff,' Jack?" says Justin Spence, yawning lazilyas he withdraws his dripping hands from the calabash wash-basin, andsaunters across to the scene of culinary operations. "Oh, Lord!" givinga sniff or two as a vile and carrion-like effluvium strikes upon hisnostrils. "There's one of those beastly stink-ants around somewhere.Here, Sixpence!" calling to one of a trio of Mashuna boys loungingbeneath the shade of the waggon aforesaid. "_Hamba petula_ stink-ant--what the deuce is the word, Jack? _'Iye_, yes, that's it _Bulal'iye_.Comprenny? Well, clear then. _Hamba_. Scoot."

  A splutter of bass laughter went up from the natives at this luciddirection, which, however, the other man soon made clear.

  "Oh, never mind about the stink-ant," he said. "Why, man, it's all inthe day's work. You must get used to these little trifles, or you'llnever do any good at prospecting."

  "Oh, damn prospecting! I hate it," returned Justin, stretching hisgraceful length upon the ground. "Ladle out the scoff and let's fallto. I want to have another smoke."

  "Oh, Lucky Jim! How I envy him--"

  resumed Jack Skelsey, while engaged in the above occupation.

  "So do I, Jack, or anybody else to whom that word `lucky' can be said toapply--and I'm afraid whoever that is it'll never be us."

  "You never can tell, old man. Luck generally strikes a chap when leastexpected."

  "Then now's the time for it to strike me; right now, Jack."

  "Oh, I don't know we've much to grouse about, Spence. It's beastly hotup here, and we're sweating our souls out all for nothing. But afterall, it's better than being stuck away all one's life in a musty oldoffice, sometimes not even seeing the blessed light of day for a week ata time, if it happens to be foggy--a miserable jet of gas the onlysubstitute for yonder jolly old sun. Rather! I've tried it and youhaven't. See?"

  Nobody could have looked upon that simple camp without thoroughlyagreeing with the speaker. It was hot certainly, but there were treeswhich afforded a cool and pleasant shade: while around for many a milestretched a glorious roll of bush veldt--all green and golden in theunclouded sunlight--and the chatter of monkeys, the cackle of the wildguinea-fowl, the shrill crow of the bush pheasant together with thegleam of bright-winged birds glancing overhead, bespoke that thisbeautiful wilderness was redundant with life. The two men loungingthere, with bronzed races and chests, their shirtsleeves turned up fromequally bronzed wrists, looked the picture of rude health: surely ifever there was such a thing as a free life--open--untrammelled--this wasit.

  The day was Sunday, which may account for the lazy way in which we foundone at any rate of the pair, spending the morning. For they had made ita rule to do no work on that day, not, we fear, from any particularlyreligious motive, but acting on the thoroughly sound and wholesome planof taking one day in seven "off." A thoroughly sound and wholesomeappetite had they too. When they had done, Skelsey remarked:

  "Shall we go and have a shoot?"

  The other, who was tugging at a knot in the strings of his tobacco bag,looked up quickly.

  "Er--no. At least I won't go," he said rather nervously. "Er--I thinkI'll ride over to Blachland's."

  "All right, old chap. Let's go there instead."

  This did not suit Spence at all. "Don't know whether you'd care for it,Jack. The fact is, Blachland's away."

  "I see-ee!" rejoined Skelsey, significantly. "Oh-h, l-lucky Jim! How Ienvy hi-im--" he hummed.

  "You know you always swear you hate talking to women," said Spenceeagerly, as though anxious to apologise for or explain hisunfriendliness. "So I thought it only fair to warn you as to what youhad to expect."

  "I see-ee!" repeated the other with a laugh and a wink. "Who's this?"shading his eyes and gazing out over the veldt. "Jonah back already?"

  A native was approaching, a clothed native; in fact one of their boys.He had been despatched to a trading store, a trifling distance oftwenty-five miles away, to procure certain supplies, and now as hereappeared, he was bearing on his head a prodigious load.

  "Now we shan't be long!" ejaculated Skelsey, "and good biz too, for thegrog was running most confoundedly low. Jonah is therefore for once awelcome sight."

  The load on being investigated was found to consist of a case of whiskyand sundry unconsidered trifles in the grocery line. When this had beenoverhauled the boy, fumbling in the pockets of his greasy cord jacket,fished out a greasier bundle all rolled up in newspaper.

  "The mail, by George!" cried Skelsey. "English mail too. Here you are,Spence. It's all for you, confound it," he added disappointedly."Well, that jolly blue envelope bears a striking family likeness to ourold friend the dun. Never mind, old chap, you're out of that brute'sreach anyway."

  Justin was probably of the same opinion, for he looked dubiously at thesuspicious enclosure, and put it aside, beginning upon his other twomail letters. Yet, when half through these something moved him to tearopen the other. A glance at its contents--then he started and grewpale. What was this? His hands trembled, and a mist seemed to comebetween his eyes and the paper, as he held it in front of him, strivingto master the contents. Was it real? Heavens! no! Some fool must havebeen putting up a practical joke on him. It was impossible. It couldnot be.

  "No bad news I hope, old chap?"

  His partner's voice, anxious, sympathetic, sounded quite far away.

  "No--no. Oh no--not bad news," he answered unsteadily. "I'll tell youbye-and-bye. Here, Sixpence! Hurry up and get in my horse._Tshetsha_--d'you hear! _Tshetsha_!"

  Skelsey watched him furtively and wondered. However, he made no furtherremark.

  "Well, so long, Jack," said Spence, as he led forth his horse. Hispartner had further observed that his hands shook during the process ofsaddling up--and that he seemed in a desperate hurry to be off. "I'llbe back to-night, but after dark, I expect."

  "No, you won't," thought Skelsey to himself. "Spence _is_ making abally fool of himself in that quarter. There'll be a gorgeous bust-upone of these days." Then aloud:

  "So long, Spence. Remember me to the beautiful Mrs B."

  "No more of this life," thought Spence to himself as he rode along. Avery different one now threw wide its alluring portals before him. Hewould leave all his share in the joint outfit to Jack Skelsey. He was agood fellow was Jack--

  "Oh, l-lucky Jim! How I envy hi-im--"

  Justin laughed aloud, lightheartedly, gleefully, as his chum's favouritesong arose fainter and fainter behind him. And then his chum's strangeprediction, uttered scarcely half an hour ago, recurred to his mind.

  "`Luck generally strikes a man when least expected!' By J
ove! Jack wasright."

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  We have said that Blachland had undergone a stormy time of itdomestically, by reason of this new and sudden absence. But Hermia'sgrievance was not a genuine one. So little indeed was it genuine thatshe was conscious of a distinct feeling of relief when he announced it.But side by side with this was an inherent instinct to deceive herself,since there was no other object on which to practise deception: todeceive herself into the idea that she really was a very ill-usedperson. He neglected her shamefully, she had declared. She had notbargained for leading this utterly lonely life when she decided toaccompany him to this remote corner of the earth. Well, again let himtake care. There were others who appreciated her if he did not. Towhich he had replied equably:--

  "Meaning Spence," and had gone on with his preparations.

  It was this very imperturbability which had always dominated Hermia.She knew their relationship was dangerously near a rupture, and was notquite sure within her heart of hearts that she desired such. But ashort while since, she emphatically did not; now it might be otherwise.Yet it was impracticable, for the first essential to her mind wascomfort and liberty unstinted. Justin Spence was as poor as theproverbial church mouse, else why should he be out there prospecting?She knew that every cent he had in the world was drawn from anallowance--not a large one either--and that allowances are the mostprecarious of all means of subsistence, in that they depend solely uponthe will and caprice of the allower. It was a thousand pities. If onlyhe were well off, she would not have hesitated. She was perfectly sickof this uncivilised, lonely life. She longed for the world again.Justin adored her. Her will would be his law. Ah, why was he notindependent and well off?

  She looked back over her past, but it caused her no qualms. She lookedback on a period of passion and love, but the retrospect only served toemphasise the subsequent disillusionment. To be content with the loveof one--no, that was not in her. New life, new love--the new wine oflife! That was to live indeed.

  She looked around on the glowing veldt, shimmering in the afternoonheat. Away on yonder rise a line of black objects was moving. She gotout the binocular, a clear and powerful glass, and the objects seemedabout fifty yards away--a score of sable antelope moving through the lowbush, some of them magnificent specimens of that noble buck, and shecould clearly distinguish the great scimitar-like horns and black hides,so markedly defined. Yes, this was a grand country for men, but forwomen, debarred from all outdoor sport and excitement, why it was aliving grave. And then, as she looked, suddenly the leaders of the linethrew up their heads, stopped short, snuffing the air, and then thewhole line turned about and trotted back in the direction from whichthey had come.

  What had alarmed the animals? Sweeping the glass round carefully itrevealed another object, a man on horseback, and her heart gave a greatbound of delight.

  "It is. It's Justin," she exclaimed half aloud. "The dear boy! Howglad I am. But--what on earth--? What a hurry he's in!"

  For the advancing rider was coming along at something like a hardgallop, which was no pace at which to push a horse on a sweltering daylike this. Then Hermia began a little piece of acting. She went intothe house, and arranging herself on an old wicker couch covered with aleopard skin rug, began to read.

  "Missis--Baas riding this way. Tink it Baas Spence." This from thegrinning woolly head of Tickey, inserted through the open doorway.Hermia rose, stretched herself, and the book still in her hand came andstood in the doorway. Then she stretched herself again and thus hefound her.

  "Why, Justin? Who would have thought of seeing you?" This with round,astonished eyes.

  "But--aren't you glad to, dearest?" He was looking her up and down, atremor of love in his voice, a world of hungry passionate adoration inhis gaze.

  "You know I am, dear love. Come inside."

  She had put out her hand to him, and he, still holding it, needed nosecond bidding. Once within, however, he seized her splendid form--itslines the more seductive through the thin, summer transparency of herlight attire--in a strong and passionate embrace.

  "Justin, Justin, let me go!" she urged. "Really, you are gettingperfectly unmanageable." And she accompanied her words with a warninggesture towards the door of the inner room. The young man laughedaloud.

  "No fear," he said. "You're all alone again as usual."

  "How do you know that?"

  "Never mind how. I do know, and it wasn't you who told me. But"--becoming suddenly reproachful--"why didn't you?"

  "Oh, I didn't want to distract you from your work, for one thing. Youhave been neglecting it far too much of late. Hilary says you'll nevermake a prospector."

  "Oh, damn Hilary! He doesn't know everything."

  "Ssh--" with a hand over his mouth. "You mustn't use swear words. Andnow, you dear ridiculous boy, what are you looking so absurdly happyabout?"

  "Ah, that'll come in time. I'm not going to tell you all at once," heretorted, suddenly becoming mysterious. "But, Hermia my darling, it'slike new life to see you again."

  She smiled softly, her dark eyes into his blue ones. It was like newlife to her, this passionate and whole-hearted adoration. And he was sohandsome too; the sunbrowned face with its refined features, the tall,well-knit figure, stirred the animal side of her, and she found herselfcontrasting him with the absent one. Hilary was really getting old andprosaic and satirical. He had no more sentiment left in him than acuttlefish--was the result of the mental contrast which she drew.Whereas this one--it did occur to her that he, too, would one day losethe buoyancy and fire of youth, or even that this might come to bediverted on some object other than herself; but for the first, it wasfar enough off in all conscience--for the second, she had too much pridein her own powers to give it a thought.

  "Ah, yes," she answered. "You think so now, but--you wouldn't always.Remember, Justin, I am older than you--well, only a little. But at anyrate I have seen far more of the world--of life--than you can possiblyhave done. But what's the use of talking? We shall have to part sooneror later."

  They had dropped down on the couch, and were seated side by side, heholding both her hands.

  "But why shall we have to part sooner or later?" he asked, and the lackof lugubriousness with which he echoed her words struck her at the time.

  "Well, Justin, just look at things in the face. Isn't love in a cottagea synonym for the very height of absurdity? What about its Mashunalandequivalent--love in a prospector's camp?"

  He laughed aloud. There was something so happy and buoyant in his laughthat it struck her too.

  "Yes, it strikes you as funny, doesn't it?" she said. "Well, it is."

  "So it is," he answered. "I quite agree. Now look here, Hermia.Supposing it were not a case of love in a prospector's camp, but love inall the wide world--in any part of it that pleased you--no matterwhere--the brightest parts of it, where everything combined to make lifeall sunshine for you, while you made life all sunshine for me? Whatthen?"

  "Now you're getting beyond me, Justin. Suppose you explain."

  "Yes. That's all right. I will. No more prospecting for me, no needfor that or anything else--only to enjoy life--with you. Look at this."

  He put into her hand the communication he had received in camp--thesight of which had caused him that great and sudden agitation, and whichhad moved his comrade so anxiously to utter a hope that it contained nobad news. Bad news! The news that it imparted was not exactly that hewas a millionaire, but that all unexpectedly he had succeeded to agoodly heritage, just stopping short of five figures as a yearly income.

  "Now, have we got to part sooner or later?" he cried triumphantly,watching the astonishment and then gladness which overspread her face."Look, we have all the world before us, and need care for nobody. Comewith me, Hermia my darling, my one love. Leave all this and come withme, and see what love really means."

  She did not immediately
answer. She was looking him through with herlarge eyes, and was thinking. She looked back upon her life, and itseemed all behind her. Here was an opportunity of renewing it. Shouldshe take him at his word, or should she play him a little longer? No,that was not advisable under the circumstances. It was now or never.It was strike while the iron is hot--and it was hot enough now in allconscience, she thought, as she looked at his pleading earnest face.

  "Justin, my love, I believe I will take you at your word. Only it mustbe immediately or not at all. Shall I ever regret it, I wonder?" Andagain she looked him through with a fine expression of great andtroubled seriousness.

  "Never, darling," he cried enraptured. "That old fossil doesn'tappreciate you. I will show you what appreciation means. You will gowith me at once--to-morrow--never to part?"

  "Yes," she whispered.

  "Ha-ha-haa!" laughed a jackal, questing after prey away in the gloamingshades of the now dusking veldt.

  "Ha-ha-haa!" laughed his mate.