Big Game Part 14

At sight of Margot the Chieftain first beamed delight, and then screwed his chubby face into an expression of concern.

"Halloa! What's up? You look pretty middling doleful!" cried he, casting an eloquent glance towards the inn windows, then lowering his voice to a stage whisper, "Macalisteritis, eh? Too much stuffy parlour and domestic reminiscences? Never mind! Pack clouds away, and welcome day! The sun is shining, and I have a packet of bull's eyes for you in one pocket and a budget of letters in another. No, you don't! Not one single one of them to read in the house--come and sit on a stone by the tarn, and we'll suck peppermints and read 'em together. Wonderful how much better you'll feel when you've had a good blow of fresh air. I was prancing mad when I went out this afternoon, but now--a child might play with me!"

He threw out his short arms with his favourite sweeping gesture, his coat flapped to and fro in the breeze, he stepped out with such a jaunty tread on his short broad feet, that at sight of him Margot's depression vanished like smoke, and she trotted along by his side with willing footsteps.

"That's better! That's better! Never saw you look melancholy before, and never want to again... 'Shocking disappearance of dimples! A young lady robbed of her treasures! Thief still at large! Consternation in the neighbourhood!' Eh! How's that? Young women who have been endowed with dimples should never indulge in low spirits. It's a criminal offence against their neighbours. Where's your brother?"

Margot laughed at the suddenness of the question. It was one of the Chieftain's peculiarities to leap upon one like this, taking one unawares, and surprising thereby involuntary revelations.

"I don't know," she answered truthfully. "Over the hills and far away, I suppose--studying them in a new aspect. He loved them yesterday in the rain; to-day he felt sure that it would clear, and he wanted to see the mists rise. He does so intensely love studying Nature."

"Humph?"

Margot looked at him sharply, her head involuntarily a.s.suming a defensive tilt.

"What does 'Humph' mean, pray?"

"Just exactly and precisely what it says!"

"It doesn't sound at all flattering or nice."

"Probably not. It wasn't intended to be."

"Mr Elgood, how can you! What can you have to say about Ron that isn't to his credit? I thought you liked him! I thought you admired him!

You must see--you _must_--that he is different from other boys of his age. So much more clever, and thoughtful, and appreciative!"

"That's where the pity comes in! It's pitiful to see a lad like that mooning away his time, when he ought to be busy at football or cricket, or playing tricks on his betters. What business has he to appreciate Nature? Tell me that! At twenty--is it, or only nineteen?--he ought to be too much engrossed in exercising his muscles, and letting off steam generally, to bother his head about effects of sun and mist. Sun and mist, indeed! A good wholesome ordinary English lad doesn't care a toss about sun or mist, except as they help or hinder his enjoyment of sport!"

"Ronald is not an 'ordinary English boy'!"

"Hoity-toity! Now she's offended!" The Chieftain looked at his companion's flushed cheeks with twinkling eyes, not one whit daunted by her airs of dignified displeasure. "Don't want me to say what isn't true, do you? He's a nice lad--a very nice lad, and a clever one into the bargain, though by no means the paragon you think him. That's why I'm sorry to see him frittering away his youth, instead of making hay while the sun shines. He'll be old soon enough. Wake up some fine morning to find himself with a bald head and stiff joints. Then he'll be sorry! Wouldn't bother my head about him if I didn't like the lad.

Have a peppermint? It will soothe your feelings."

The parcel of round black bull's eyes was held towards Margot in ingratiating fashion. It was impossible to refuse, impossible to cherish angry feelings, impossible to do anything but laugh and be happy in the presence of this kindest and most cheery of men. Margot took the peppermint, and sucked it with frank enjoyment the while she sat by the tarn reading her letters. Having received nothing from home for several days, the same post had now brought letters from her father, Edith, and Agnes, to say nothing of ill.u.s.trated missives from the two small nephews. Mr Vane's note was short, and more an echo of her own last letter than a record of his own doings.

"Glad to know that you like your surroundings--pleased to hear that the weather keeps fine--hope you will enjoy your excursion," etcetera, etcetera.

Just at the end came a few sentences which to the reader's quick wits were full of hidden meaning.

"Agnes is taking the opportunity of your absence to organise a second spring cleaning. It seems only the other day since we were upset before. I dined at the club last night. It is difficult to know what to do with oneself on these long light evenings.--I would run away over Sunday, if I could think of any place I cared to go to... Town seems very empty."

"Poor dear darling!" murmured Margot sympathetically, at which the Chieftain lifted his eyes to flash upon her a glance of twinkling amus.e.m.e.nt. He made no spoken comment, however, but returned to the perusal of his own correspondence, while Margot broke open the envelope of Agnes's letter.

Two sheets of handwriting, with immense s.p.a.ces between both words and lines--"My dear Margot," as a beginning--"Your affectionate sister, Agnes Mary Vane," as a conclusion. Thrilling information to the effect that the charwoman was coming on Friday. Complaints of the late arrival of the sweep. Information requested concerning a missing mat which was required to complete a set. Mild disapproval of the Nag's Head Inn. "I cannot understand what you find to rave about in such quarters." A sigh of impatience and resignation was the tribute paid to this letter, and then Margot settled herself more comfortably on the stone, and prepared to enjoy a treat--a real heart-to-heart talk with her beloved eldest sister.

Edith had the gift of sympathy. Just as Agnes never understood, Edith always seemed able to put herself in another's place, and enter into that person's joys and griefs. She herself might be sad and downcast, but in her darkest hour she could always rejoice in another's good fortune, and forget her own woes in eager interest and sympathy. Now, sitting alone in the dreary lodging-house sitting-room in Oxford Terrace, she was able mentally to project herself into the far-off Highland glen, and to feel an ungrudging joy in the pleasure of others.

Never a hint of "How I envy you! How I wish I were there!" Not a mention of "I" in obtruding, shadow-like fashion from first to last, but instead, tender little anecdotes about the boys; motherly solicitude for their benefit, and humble asking of advice from one younger and less experienced than herself; an outpouring of tenderness for her husband, and of a beautiful and unbroken trust and belief, which failure was powerless to shake.

"Jack is working like a slave trying to build up the ruins of the old business. It is difficult, discouraging work, and so far the results are practically nil, but they will come. Something will come! More and more I feel the conviction in my heart that all this trouble and upheaval have been because G.o.d has some better thing in store for us both. We have only to wait and be patient, and the way will open.--I don't want to be rich, only just to have enough money to live simply and quietly. We are so rich in each other's companionship that we can afford to do without luxuries. Last night we had a dinner of herbs-- literally herbs--a vegetarian feast costing about sixpence halfpenny, but with such lots of love to sweeten it, and afterwards we went out for a stroll into the Park, and I wore the hat you trimmed, and Jack made love to me. We _were_ happy! I saw people looking at us with envious eyes. They thought we were a pair of lovers building castles in the air, instead of an old married couple with two bouncing boys, having the workhouse in much nearer proximity than any castle--but they were right to envy us all the same. We have the best thing!"

The letter dropped on to Margot's knee, and she sat silent, gazing before her with shining eyes, her face softened into a beautiful tenderness of expression. For some time she was unconscious that her companion had returned his own letters to his coat pocket, and was lying along the ground, his head resting upon his hand, watching her with a very intent scrutiny; but when at last her eyes were unconsciously drawn towards him, she spoke at once, as if answering an unspoken question.

"What a wonderful thing love is!"

The Chieftain's light eyebrows were elevated in interrogation.

"In connection with the 'dear darling' previously mentioned, if one may ask?"

"That was my father. I love him dearly, but just now I was thinking of the other sort of love. This letter is from my eldest sister. She was a beautiful girl, and could have married half a dozen rich men if she had wished, but she chose the poorest of them all, a dear, good, splendid man, who has been persistently unsuccessful all the way through. Everything--financially speaking, I mean,--has been against him. They have had continual anxiety and curtailment, until at last they have had to let their pretty house and go into dingy lodgings. My father is very down on Jack. He is a successful man himself, and don't you think it needs a very fine nature to keep up faith in a person who seems persistently to fail? But my sister never doubts. She loves her husband more, and idealises him more, than on the day they were married."

"And you call that man unsuccessful?"

Margot hardly recognised the low, earnest tones: her quick glance downward surprised a spasm of pain on the chubby face, which she had always a.s.sociated with unruffled complacency. It appeared that here also lay a hidden trouble, a secret grief carefully concealed from the world.

"Isn't that rather a misuse of the word? A man who has gained and kept such a love can never be called a failure by any one who understands the true proportions of life. With all his monetary losses he is rich...

And she is rich also... Richer than she knows."

Margot's hand closed impulsively on Edith's letter and held it towards him.

"Yes, you are right. Read that, and you will see how right you are.

There are no secrets in it--its just a word-photograph of Edith herself, and I'd like you to see her, as you understand so well. She's my dearest sister, whom I admire more than anybody in the world."

Mr Elgood took the letter without a word, and read over its contents slowly once, and then, even more slowly, a second time. When at last he had finished he still held the sheet in his hands, smoothing it out with gentle, reverent fingers.

"Yes!" he said slowly. "I can see her. She is a beautiful creature. I should like to know her in the flesh. You must introduce us to one another some day. I haven't come across too many women like that in my life. It would be an honour to know her, to help her, if that were possible." He sighed, and stretching out his hand laid the letter on Margot's knee. "You are right, Miss Bright Eyes, love is a wonderful thing!"

Margot glanced at him with involuntary, girlish curiosity, the inevitable question springing to her lips before Prudence had time to order silence.

"Do you--have you--did you ever--"

The Chieftain laughed softly.

"Have I ever been in love, you would ask! What do you take me for, pray? Am I such a blind, cold-hearted clod that I could go through the world for forty-five years and keep my heart untouched? Of course I have loved. I do love! It was once and for ever with me--"

"But you are not--"

"Married? No! She died long ago; but even if she had lived she was not for me. She would have been the wife of another man; a good fellow; I think she would have been happy. As it is, we remember her together.

She was a bright, sunshiny creature who carried happiness with her wherever she went... To have known her is the comfort of our lives--not the grief. We have lived through the deep waters, and can now rejoice in her gain... Do you know there is something about yourself which has reminded me of her several times! That is one reason why I like being with you, and am interested in your life. I should like you to think of me as a friend, and come to me for help if you were ever in need of anything that I could give."

The colour rushed into Margot's cheeks, and her heart beat with suffocating quickness. Here was the opportunity for which she had longed, offered to her without any preliminary effort or contriving on her own part! The place, the time, the person were all in readiness, waiting for her convenience. If through cowardice or wavering she allowed the moment to pa.s.s, she could never again hope for another such opening. Already the Chieftain was watching her with surprise and curiosity, the softness of the last few minutes giving place to the usual alert good-humour.

"Hey? Well! What is it? What's the trouble? Out with it! Anything I can do?"

"Mr Elgood," said Margot faintly, "you are very good, very kind; I am most grateful to you. I hope you _will_ help me, but first there is something I must say... I--I have been deceiving you from the beginning!"

"What's that?" The Chieftain sat up suddenly and stared at her beneath frowning brows. "Deceiving me? _You_? I don't believe a word of it!

What is there to deceive me about, pray? You are not masquerading under a false name, I suppose? Not married, for instance, and pa.s.sing yourself off as single for some silly school-girl freak?"

"Oh no! Oh no! Everything that I have told you about myself is true, absolutely true."