CHAPTER SIX.
CONCERNING THE UNEXPECTED.
"How do, Earle?" cried George Bayfield, pulling up his horses at thegate of the first named.
"So, so, Bayfield. How's all yourselves? How do, Miss Bayfield? Had acold drive? Ha--ha! It must have been nipping when you started thismorning. Just look at the frost even now," with a comprehensive sweepof an arm terminating in a pipe over the dew-gemmed veldt, a sheenysparkle of silver in the newly risen sun. "But you--it's given you agrand colour anyway."
"Yes, it was pretty sharp, Mr Earle, but we were well wrapped up,"answered Lyn, as he helped her down. Then, as an ulster-clad figuredisentangled itself from the spider--"This is Mr Blachland, who isstaying with us."
"How do, sir? Pleased to meet you. Not out from home, are you?" with aglance at the other's bronzed and weather-beaten countenance.
"No. Up-country," answered Bayfield for him. "Had fever, obliged to becareful,"--this as though explaining the voluminousness of the aforesaidwrapping.
"So? Didn't know you had any one staying with you, Bayfield."
"By Jove! Didn't I mention it? Well, I wrote that _brievje_ in acast-iron hurry, I remember."
"That's nothing. The more the merrier," heartily rejoined Earle, whowas a jolly individual of about the same number of years as Blachland."Come inside. Come inside. We'll have breakfast directly. Who'sthis?" shading his eyes to look down the road.
"That's Fred and Jafta, and a spare horse. The youngster won't be inthe way, will he, Earle? I don't let him shoot yet, except with anair-gun, but he was death on coming along."
"No--no. That's all right. Bring him along."
Their hostess met them in the doorway. She was a large, finely builtwoman, with a discontented face, but otherwise rather good-looking. Shewas cordial enough, however, towards the new arrivals. They constituteda break in the monotony of life; moreover, she was fond of Lyn for herown sake.
"Let's have breakfast as soon as you can, Em," said Earle. "We want toget along. I think we'll have a good day. There are three troops ofguinea-fowl in those upper kloofs, and the _hoek_ down along the_spruit_ is just swarming with blekbuck."
During these running comments a door had opened, and someone entered.
"How d'you do, Mrs Fenham?" said Bayfield, greeting the new arrivalcordially. He was followed by Lyn, somewhat less cordial. Then aroseEarle's voice:
"Mrs Fenham--Mr--There now, I believe I didn't quite catch yourname--"
"Blachland."
"Ah, yes, I beg your pardon--Blachland. Mr Blachland."
Hilary bowed--then obliged by that other's outstretched hand to putforth his, found it enclosed in a tolerably firm clasp, by that of--Hermia.
Thus they stood, looking into each other's eyes, and in that briefglance, for all his habitual self-control, he would have been more thanhuman had he succeeded in concealing the unbounded surprise--largelymingled with dismay--which flashed across his face. She for her part,if she had failed to read it, and in that fraction of a minute toresolve to turn it to account--well, she would not have been HermiaSaint Clair.
To both the surprise was equal and complete. They had no more idea ofeach other's propinquity than they had--say, of the Sultan of Turkeysuddenly arriving to take part in the day's sport. Yet, of the two, thewoman was the more self-controlled.
"Are you fond of sport?" she murmured sweetly, striving not to rendertoo palpable to other observers the dart of mingled warning and defiancewhich she flashed at him.
"Yes, as a rule," he answered indifferently, taking his cue. "Beenrather off colour of late. Touch of fever."
There was a touch of irony in the tone, to the only one there who hadthe key to its burden. For the words brought back the long and helplessbout of the dread malady, when this woman had left him alone--to die,but for the chance arrival of a staunch comrade.
"Well, lug that big coat off, old chap," said Earle, whose jovial naturemoved him to prompt familiarity. "Unless you still feel it too cold,that is. We're going to have breakfast."
The coat referred to was not without its importance in the situation.With the collar partly turned up, Blachland had congratulated himselfthat it helped to conceal the effect of this extraordinary and unwelcomesurprise from the others, and such, in fact, was the case. For nothingis more difficult to dissemble in the eyes of bystanders, in a chanceand unwelcome meeting, than the fact of previous acquaintanceship. Itmay be accounted for by the explanation of extraordinary resemblance,but such is so thin as to be absolutely transparent, and calculated toimpose upon nobody. And of this Hilary Blachland was thoroughly aware.
They sorted themselves into their places. Hilary, by a kind of processof natural selection, found himself seated next to Lyn. Hermia wasnearly opposite, and next to her three of the Earle progeny--preternaturally well-behaved. But on her other side was a vacant chair,and a place laid as though for somebody. There was plenty of talk goingon, which enabled Blachland to keep out of it and observe.
First of all, what the deuce was she doing there? Hermia masqueradingas instructor of youth! Oh, Heavens, the joke would have been enough tosend him into a fit, had he only heard of it! But there she was, and itwould be safe to say that there was not a living being on the wideearth, however detestable, whose presence would not have been warmlywelcome to him in comparison with that of this one seated thereopposite. What on earth was her game, he wondered, and what had becomeof Spence? Here she was, passing as a widow under the name of Fenham.And this was the unknown fair who had been the subject of their jokes,and Lyn's disapproval! Why, even on the way over that morning, Bayfieldhad been full of chaff, pre-calculating the effect of her charms uponhimself. Great Heavens, yes! It was all too monstrous--too grotesqueentirely.
"Are you still feeling cold?"
It was Lyn who had turned to him, amid all the chatter, and there was asort of indefinably confidential ring in her voice, begotten of closefriendship and daily intercourse. Was it something of the kind thatsoftened his as he replied to her? But even while he did so he met thedark eyes opposite, the snap of which seemed to convey that to theirowner nothing could go unobserved.
"Oh no, I'm quite all right now," he answered lightly. And then, undercover of all the fanning talk that was going on between Earle andBayfield, he talked to Lyn, mostly about matters they had discussedbefore. A sort of ironical devil moved him. He would let this womanopposite, imperceptibly watching every look, weighing every word,understand that she and her malevolence, whether dormant or active,counted absolutely nothing with him.
There was the sound of a footstep outside, and the door was opened.
"Awful sorry I'm so late, Mrs Earle," cried a voice--a young andrefined English voice--as its owner entered. "How d'you do, MissBayfield--Er--how d'you do?"
This to the only one who was personally unknown to the speaker, and whofor that very reason seemed to have the effect of a damper upon hisessentially English temperament.
"Mr Blachland--Mr West," introduced their host.
"What?" almost shouted the last-named. "Blachland, did you say? NotHilary! Why--it is! Hilary, my dear old chap, why, this is real good.By Jove, to think of my running against you here. Where on earth haveyou dropped from? Earle, you've heard me talk about this chap. He's myfirst cousin." And grabbing hold of the other's hands, he startedwringing them as though that newly found relative were the harmless,necessary village pump. "Who'd have thought of running against youhere?" went on Percival West volubly. "Why, I thought you were in someout-of-way place up-country. Well, this is a gaudy surprise!"
"Isn't it? But somebody or other has defined this country as the landof surprises, Percy. So it's got to keep up its character," saidBlachland, with a queer smile, fully conscious that the irony of therejoinder would not be lost upon at any rate one other at the table.
"I say, West. Get on with your grub, old chap," said Earle. "You canhave a yarn on the way. We want to make a start
, you know."
"Right you are!" cried Percival, with a jolly laugh, as he slid into thevacant chair beside Hermia. But even amid his surprise, he did not omitto give the latter the good morning in an unconscious change of tone,which in its turn was not lost upon Hilary Blachland; for in it was anunconscious softening, which with the look which came into the youngfellow's eyes as he turned to the woman beside him, caused those of hisnewly found relative to open--figuratively--very wide indeed. For twoconsiderable surprises had been sprung upon him--enough in allconscience for one morning, yet here was a third. This young fool wasalready soft upon Hermia. As to that there could be no doubt. Here wasa situation with a vengeance, the thinker told himself. How on earthwas it going to pan out? And his anticipations on that head were of nopleasurable nature.
"I say, West!" cried Bayfield. "That old ram we drove over you theother day has come to a bad end at last. Blachland's knocked him over."
"Oh, well done, Hilary, old chap. I suppose you've had a great timewith big game, eh? Shocked over no end of lions and elephants, and allthat sort of thing?"
"A few, yes," answered the other, rising, for a signal for a move hadbeen given.
A few minutes of filling up cartridge-belts and fastening _reims_ tosaddles, and other preparations, and the sporting party was ready.
"Good luck, father. Good luck, Mr Blachland," said Lyn, as she stoodwatching them start.
"That ought to bring it," answered the latter, as he swung himself intohis saddle. But Hermia was not among those who were outside. Percival,who had been, had dived inside again Blachland did not fail to notice.He emerged in a moment, however, looking radiantly happy and brimmingover with light-hearted spirits.
"Now, Hilary, old chap, we can have a yarn," he said, as they started,for the others had the start of them by a hundred yards or so. "Soyou're stopping with Bayfield? If only I'd known that, wouldn't I havebeen over to look you up. Good chap Bayfield. Nice little girl of histoo, but--not much in her, I fancy."
"There you're wrong, Percy. There's a great deal in her. But--how didyou fall in with Earle?"
"Knew him through another Johnny I was thick with on board ship, and heasked me over to his place. Had a ripping good time here, too. I say,what d'you think of that Mrs Fenham? Fancy a splendid woman like thatspending life hammering a lot of unlicked cubs into shape. Isn't itsinful?"
"Why didn't you say you were coming out, Percy? Drop a line orsomething?" went on his relative, feeling unaccountably nauseated bywhat he termed to himself the boy's brainless rattle.
"Drop a line! Why, that's just where the joke comes in! We none of usknew where on earth you were exactly. In point of fact, I came overhere to find you, and by George I have! Never expected to find you soeasily, though."
"Nothing wrong, eh?"
"No. But Uncle Luke is dying to see you again. He said I must be sureand bring you back with me."
The other looked surprised. Then his face softened very perceptibly.
"Is that a fact, Percy? Why, I thought he never wanted to set eyes onme again as long as he lived."
"Then you thought jolly well wrong. He does. So you must just make upyour mind to go home when I do."
"Why are you so keen on it, Percy? Why, man, it might be immeasurablyto your advantage if I never went back at all."
"Look here, Hilary, if you really mean that, I'm not a beastly cad yet."
"Well, I don't really mean it," said the other, touched by the youngfellow's chivalrous single-heartedness. "Perhaps we may bring off yourscheme all right. I would like to see the dear old chap again. I musthave treated him very shabbily. And the old Canon--is he still to thefore?"
"Rather, and as nailing good an old sort as ever. He wants to see youagain too--almost as much as Uncle Luke does."
"Ah, he always was a straight 'un--not an ounce of shoddy or humbugabout him--"
"Come on, you fellows, or we'll never get to work," shouted Earle'svoice, now very far ahead of them.
And leaving their home talk and reminiscences for the present, theyspurred on their steeds--to join the rest of the party.