The Triumph of Hilary Blachland

  CHAPTER EIGHT.

  "YOU ARE IN LOVE WITH HER."

  Bright and clear and cold, the morning arose. There had been a touch offrost in the night, and the house, lying back in its enclosure of aloefence, looked as though roofed with a sheeting of silver in the sparkleof the rising sun. The spreading veldt, too, in the flash of its dewysheen, seemed to lend a deeper blue to the dazzling, unclouded vaultabove. The metallic clatter of milk-pails in the cattle-kraal hard bymingled with the deep-toned hum of Kaffir voices; a troop of youngostriches turned loose were darting to and fro, or waltzing, andplayfully kicking at each other; and so still and clear was the air,that the whistling call of partridges down in an old mealie land nearlya mile away was plainly audible.

  "Where's West?" Bayfield was saying, as three out of the four men werestanding by the gate, finishing their early coffee.

  "Oh, he's a lazy beggar," answered Earle, putting down his cup on astone. "He don't like turning out much before breakfast-time."

  "I believe you'll miss some of your fowls this morning, Earle," saidBlachland. "There was a cat or something after them last night. Theywere kicking up the devil's own row outside our window. Percy wanted totry a shot at it, whatever it was, but I choked him off that lay becauseI thought it'd scare the house."

  "Might have been a two-legged cat," rejoined Earle. "And it isn'tworthwhile shooting even a poor devil of a thieving nigger for the sakeof a chicken or two."

  "Who are you wanting to shoot, Mr Earle?"

  "Ah! Good morning, Mrs Fenham. Blachland was saying there was a cator something after the fowls last night, and it was all he could do tokeep West from blazing off a gun at it. I suggested it might have beena two-legged cat--ha--ha!"

  "Possibly," she answered with a smile. "I'm going to take a littlestroll. It's such a lovely morning. Will you go with me, MrBlachland?"

  "Delighted," was the answer.

  The two left behind nudged each other.

  "Old Blachland's got it too," quoth Earle, with a knowing wink. "I say,though, the young 'un 'll be ready to cut his throat when he finds he'sbeen stolen a march on. They all seem to tumble when she comes along.I say, Bayfield, you'll be the next."

  "When I am I'll tell you," was the placid reply. "Let's go round to thekraals."

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  "Well, Hilary, and how am I looking? Rather well, don't you think?"

  She was dressed quite simply, but prettily, and wore a plain but verybecoming hat. The brisk, clear cold suited her dark style, and had lentcolour to her cheeks and a sparkle to her eyes--and the expression ofthe latter now, as she turned them upon her companion, was very soft.

  "Yes. Rather well," he answered, not flinching from her gaze, yet notresponding to it.

  "More than `rather' well, you ought to say," she smiled. "And now,Hilary, what have you been doing since we parted? Tell me all aboutyourself."

  Most men would have waxed indignant over her cool effrontery in puttingthings this way. This one, she knew, would do nothing of the sort. Ifanything, it rather amused him.

  "Doing? Well, I began by nearly dying of fever. Would have quite, ifSybrandt hadn't tumbled in by accident and pulled me through it."

  "Poor old Hilary!--What are you laughing at?"

  "Nothing much. Something funny struck me, that's all. But you werealways deficient in a sense of the ridiculous, Hermia, so it's not worthrepeating. You wouldn't see it. By-the-way, when I was lying ill, asquad of Matabele came around, under that swab Muntusi, and looted alittle, and assegai-ed the two piccaninnies."

  "What? Tickey and Primrose? Oh, poor little beasts!"

  "I couldn't move a finger, of course--weak as a cat. In fact, I didn'tknow what had happened till afterwards."

  Again the humour of the situation struck him irresistibly. Thematter-of-course way in which she was asking and receiving the news justas though they had parted quite in ordinary fashion and merelytemporarily, was funny. But it was Hermia all over.

  "I'd become sick of it by that time," he went on. "So I sold outeverything, and came down country."

  "To think of your being at the Bayfields' all this while, Hilary. Andyou didn't know I was here?"

  "Hadn't the ghost of a notion. Of course I had heard you were here, butthere was nothing to lead me to locate you as `Mrs Fenham.' By theway, Hermia, what on earth made you strike out in the line of instructorof youth? No. It's really too funny."

  "Isn't it?" she said ingenuously. "It often amuses me too. I did itfor a freak--and--a reason."

  "But why `Fenham'? You haven't really married any--er--fool of thatname?"

  "Not a bit. Thanks for the implied compliment all the same. The namedid as well as any other. That's all."

  "What has become of Spence?"

  "I don't know, and don't care. He turned out rather a cur," sheanswered with a light laugh, showing no more confusion or restraint inalluding to the circumstance, than he had done when first she broachedthe subject of their parting. "I had more than enough of him in threemonths, and couldn't stand the sight of him in five. He had justsucceeded to a lot of money, you know, and became afflicted with swelledhead there and then; in fact, became intolerably bumptious."

  "Yes, I heard that from Skelsey, just when I was wondering hard howSpence was in a sudden position to undertake a--well, not inexpensiveliability."

  She gave him a little punch on the arm--not ill-naturedly, for she wasrather amused.

  "It's mean of you to say that, Hilary. Come now, you can't say _you_found it an `expensive liability.'"

  "Well, I'll concede I didn't, Hermia--not pecuniarily, that is. But itisn't to say that Spence would not have. I thought you were going tomake a serious business of it that time. Why didn't you? You hadhooked your fish, and seemed to be playing him all right. Then, justwhen you ought to have gaffed him--up goes the top joint, whippingaloft, and the fish is off."

  "He was a cur, and I'm well rid of him," she returned, and there was ahard, vindictive gleam in her dark eyes. "I did mean serious business,and so did he--very much so. Do you know what choked him off, Hilary?It was when he learned there was no necessity for you to set me free--that I was free as air already. While he thought I was beyond hisreach, he declared he was only living for the day when I was no longerso. But, directly he found I was quite within it, and had been allalong, he cooled off with a sort of magical rapidity."

  "Yes. Human nature is that way--and here too, there was an additionalpsychological motive. The knowledge would be likely to make adifference, you know. Knock a few chips out of your--er--prestige."

  She burst out laughing. "You have a neat, but rather horrid way ofputting things, Hilary. Yes. I quite see what you mean."

  He made no reply, and for some moments they strolled on in silence. Hecould not refuse to entertain a certain amount of admiration for theconsummate and practical coolness of this woman. She would make anideal adventuress. Nor did he in the very least believe that she wasdestined to come to grief--as by all the rules of morality he ought tohave believed. That was not the way of life. She would probably end byentrapping some fool--either very old, or very young--endowed withinfinitely more bullion or valuable scrip than gumption or self-control,and flashing out into a very shining light of pattern respectability.

  "What are you thinking about, Hilary?" she said at last, stealing a sidelook at him. "Are you still the least little bit angry with me about--er--about things?"

  "Not in the least. I never was. You had had enough of me--we had hadenough of each other. The only thing to do was to separate. You mayremember I told you so not long before?"

  "I remember. And, Hilary--You would not--stand in my way if--"

  "Certainly not. If you can humbug, to your advantage, any fool worthhumbugging, that's no business on earth of mine--"

  "Ah, that's just what I thought of you, Hilary," she said, her wholeface lighting
up with animation. "You were always a head and shouldersabove any other man I ever knew."

  "--But--" he resumed, lifting a warning hand as he stopped and facedher. "There is one and one only I must warn you off, and that mostuncompromisingly."

  "Who is it?"

  The very tone was hard and rasping, and her face had gone pale. All thelight and animation had died out of her eyes as she raised them to his.

  "That unspeakable young ass of a cousin of mine--Percy West."

  "But--why?"

  "Hermia, think. How on earth can you ask such a question? The boy islike a younger brother to me, and on no consideration whatever will Istand by and allow his life to be utterly spoiled, wrecked and ruined atthe very outset."

  "Why should his life be wrecked or ruined?" she said sullenly, but withaverted gaze. "I could make him very happy."

  "For how long? And what then? No. Knowing what we know, it could notbe. The thing is impossible--utterly impossible, I tell you. You mustsimply give up all idea or thought of it."

  "And if I refuse?"

  "But you won't refuse. Good Heavens! haven't you got the whole world topick and choose from, but you must needs come here and make a fool ofthis boy?"

  "I didn't come here and `make a fool of him.' I was here already whenhe came. I told you I had a reason for stopping here. Well--that isit."

  "It was to tell me this that you arranged to meet me alone," went onBlachland. "I conclude it wasn't merely for the pleasure of having atalk over old times. Am I right?"

  "Perfectly."

  "Well, then, Hermia, I can't agree to it. Do be reasonable. You havethe whole world to choose from, and you may rely upon it that in anyother connection I will never stand in your way by word or act. But inthis I will. Why are you so bent on winning this boy? He isn'twealthy, and never will be, except by his own exertions, i.e. thedevelopment of some potential but hitherto undiscovered vein ofrascality in his nature. He is much younger than you, too."

  "So you were careful enough to tell him last night," she flashed. "Thatwas mean of you."

  "Last night!" echoed the other, for the moment taken aback, for Percivalhad certainly had no opportunity of communicating with her at all thatmorning.

  "Why, yes. I heard you. Remember the `bushcat' that was disturbing thefowls? I was the `bushcat'!" And again she broke into a ringing pealof laughter.

  "Eh?"

  "I was the `bushcat,' I tell you," she repeated. "That window of yoursis very convenient. I heard every word you said to each other. It wasvery mean of you, Hilary, to try and set him against me."

  "Well, if you heard every word, you must admit that I might have set himagainst you a great deal more than I did. Moreover, Hermia, I believe Iwas the unconscious means of saving your life by refusing to open thewindow and let him shoot. So you owe me a little gratitude after all."

  "No, I don't," came the prompt response. "You don't suppose I'd havewaited there to be shot at, do you? Why, directly you touched thewindow to open it. I'd have made myself scarce. You don't catch thisweasel asleep."

  "Evidently not," he answered dryly. As a matter of fact she had heardvery little indeed of their conversation, only a scrap here and there.For the rest, she had been drawing a bow at a venture.

  "Now, Hermia," he went on, "Let's have the motive--there's always amotive, you know. You can't really care for this youngster--let alonelove him--"

  "Oh, as for love--You know, Hilary, I never loved any one but you--" shebroke off, almost passionately--"never--before or since."

  "Well then, if in that case you couldn't stick to me, how are you goingto stick to this one when you don't even love him? You know you neverwould. And he's got nothing of his own to speak of, and never will havemore when you have estranged him from the only relative he has who canhelp him."

  "But I needn't estrange him from anybody. Nothing need ever be known."

  "Let's turn back," said Hilary. "We have gone far enough. And now,Hermia, I'll tell you straight. If you don't give Percy to understandthis very morning that you have changed your mind, and will on noaccount consent to marry him, I shall put him in possession of all thefacts concerning ourselves."

  "You will?" she said. "You will do that?"

  She had stopped short, and with eyes burning from her pale face, andbreast heaving, she stood defiant, facing him, with a very blast of hateand fury in her look.

  "Certainly I will," he returned sternly, and absolutely undaunted. "Iforbid this thing--forbid it utterly."

  "He won't believe you," she jeered. "Even if he does, he won't care, heloves me too well. It'll make no difference to him."

  "I think it will though. In fact I'm sure it will. There was youngSpence. He loved you just as well, but it made a good deal ofdifference to him."

  "Very well, Hilary. Play your hand by all means. Throw your best card,but I can trump it. I have a better hand than you. I hold all thehonours, and you shan't even take the odd trick."

  "Explain," he said shortly, with, however, more than an inkling as toher meaning.

  "Well, I will then. You give me away. I give you away. See?"

  "Oh, perfectly. But it'll make no difference. You can't injure me, andI wouldn't for the world injure you--but--I won't allow this scandalousaffair to go any further, no, not at any cost!"

  "I can't injure you, can't I?" she said, dropping out her words slowly,a sneer of deadly malice spreading over her face. "No? What will theBayfields say when they hear what you and I have been to each other?"

  With infinite self-control, he commanded his features, trusting they didnot betray any inkling of the direful sinking of heart with which hegrasped the import of her words. He was not altogether taken bysurprise, for he had taken such a possibility into account--as apossibility, not a probability.

  "That can't be helped. At any cost I told you I should prevent this.At any cost mind, and at a far greater loss to myself than even thatwould be. And--I will."

  "Ha-ha-ha!" and the jeering laughter, shrill in its hate and vengefulmalevolence, rang out clear on the sweet morning air. "Ha-ha-ha! But Idon't think you've altogether counted the cost, my Hilary. How aboutLyn--your sweet, pure, innocent Lyn? What will she say when she knows?What will her father say when they both know--that you have allowed herto be under the same roof with--to grasp in ordinary social friendshipthe hand of your--for years--most devoted and affectionate...housekeeper?"

  Well was it for the speaker, well for both of them, that the words wereuttered here, and not in the far-away scene of the life to which shereferred. For a second, just one brief second, the man's eyes flashedthe murder in his soul. With marvellous self-restraint, but with drylips and face a shade pale, he answered:

  "That would be a regrettable thing to happen. But, it doesn't shake mydetermination. I don't see, either, how the outraging of other people'sfiner feelings is going to benefit you, or, to any appreciable extent,injure me."

  "Don't you? Why, in that event, the sweet, pure, and beautiful Lyn--yes, she is beautiful--I'd concede that and more--will bid you anextremely cold and curt farewell--even if she condescends to speak toyou again at all for the remainder of your natural life."

  "That too, would be regrettable, and would pain me. But we should haveto say good-bye sooner or later."

  "No, Hilary. You never intended to say anything of the sort. You can'tfool me, you see."

  "What on earth are you talking about?"

  Again the jeering laugh rang out. "What am I talking about?" sheechoed, quite undaunted by the curt, stern tones. "You know perfectlywell. You are over head and ears in love with her."

  "That's not true."

  "Isn't it? It is though," she answered, her eyes fixed full upon hisand rippling into mischievous laughter. "Why, you have grown quite paleat the bare mention of it! Shall I say it again? You are over head andears in love with her. And--I wonder if she is with you?"

  "Oh, hold your scandalous
tongue, woman," he rejoined wearily, knowingbetter than to delight her by exhibiting what must necessarily beimpotent anger. "Really, you are rendering yourself absolutely anduncompromisingly loathsome. Again I say you must give up this scheme.I will prevent it at any cost."

  "Well, you know what the cost is--and if you don't, it isn't for want ofwarning. Keep quiet and so will I. Interfere with my plans and I'llwreck all yours. Give me away and I'll give you away, and then we'llsee which comes out best. Now we are nearly back at the house again, soyou'd better be civil, or, what is more important still, look it."