The Lamp of Fate Part 31

"I'm not so sure." Magda rose and together they strolled over the gra.s.s towards the house, Coppertop skirmishing happily behind them. "I really think I might be good here--if only for the sole reason that there's no temptation to be anything else"--drily.

As she spoke a gate clicked close at hand. Followed the sound of quick, striding steps, and the next moment a man's figure rounded the tall yew hedge which skirted the foot of the garden and came towards them.

He was a big giant of a man--at least six foot two in his socks, and proportionately broad and muscular in build. There was something free and bold in his swinging gait that seemed to challenge the whole world.

It suggested an almost fierce independence of spirit that would give or take as it chose, but would never brook dictation from any man--or woman either.

Instinctively Magda and Gillian paused, and Magda held out a slim hand, smiling, as he overtook them.

"I'm sure you must be Mr. Storran," she said.

He halted abruptly and s.n.a.t.c.hed off his cap, revealing a crop of crinkly dark-brown hair thatching a lean sunburnt face, out of which gleamed a pair of eyes as vividly blue as periwinkles.

"Yes, I'm Dan Storran," he said simply. "Is it Miss Vallincourt?"

Magda nodded and proceeded to introduce Gillian. But Storran's glance only rested cursorily on Gillian's soft, pretty face, returning at once to Magda's as though drawn thither by a magnet.

"I'm sorry I couldn't meet your train myself to-day," he said, a note of eager apology in his voice.

Magda smiled at him.

"So am I," she answered.

CHAPTER X

FOREBODINGS

Gillian was sitting alone in the yew-hedged garden, her slim fingers busy repairing the holes which appeared with unfailing regularity in the heels of Coppertop's stockings. From the moment he had come to Stockleigh the number and size of the said holes had increased appreciably, for, although five weeks had elapsed since the day of arrival, Coppertop was still revelling whole-heartedly in the incredible daily delights which, from the viewpoint of six years old, attach to a farm.

Day after day found him trotting contentedly in the wake of the stockman, one Ned Honeycott, whom he had adopted as guide, philosopher, and friend, and whom he regarded as a veritable fount of knowledge and the provider of unlimited adventure and entertainment.

It was Honeycott who lifted Coppertop on to the broad back of the steadiest cart-horse; who had taught him how to feed calves by dipping his chubby little hand into a pail of milk and then letting them suck the milk from off his fingers; who beneficently contrived that hardly a load of hay was driven to the great rick without Coppertop's small person perched proudly aloft thereon, his slim legs dangling and his shrill voice joining with that of the carter in an encouraging "Come-up, Blossom," to the bay mare as she plodded forward between the shafts.

Gillian experienced no anxiety with regard to Coppertop's safety while he was in Ned Honeycott's charge, but she missed the childish companionship, the more so as she found herself frequently alone these days. June Storran was naturally occupied about her house and dairy, while Magda, under Dan Storran's tutelage, appeared smitten with an extraordinary interest in farm management.

It seemed to Gillian that Magda and Dan were in each other's company the greater part of the time. Every day Dan had some suggestion or other to make for Miss Vallincourt's amus.e.m.e.nt. Either it was: "Would you care to see the hay-loader at work?" Or: "I've just bought a couple of pedigree Devon cows I'd like to show you, Miss Vallincourt." Or, as yesterday: "There's a pony fair to be held to-morrow at Pennaway Bridge. Would you care to drive in it?" And to each and all of Storran's suggestions Magda had yielded a ready a.s.sent.

So this morning had seen the two of them setting out for Pennaway in Dan's high dog-cart, while Gillian and June stood together in the rose-covered porch and watched them depart.

"Wouldn't you like to have gone?" Gillian asked on a sudden impulse.

She regretted the question the instant it had pa.s.sed her lips, for in the wide-apart blue eyes June turned upon her there was something of the mute, puzzled misery of a dog that has received an unexpected blow.

"I couldn't spare the time," she answered hastily. "You see"--the sensitive colour as usual coming and going quickly in her face--"Miss Vallincourt is on a holiday."

She turned and went quickly into the house, leaving Gillian conscious of a sudden uneasiness--that queer "trouble ahead" feeling which descends upon us sometimes, without warning and without our being able to a.s.sign any very definite cause for it.

She was thinking over the little incident now, as she sat sewing in the evening light, and meditating whether she should give Magda a hint that it might be kinder of her not to monopolise so much of Dan's society.

And then the crisp sound of a horse trotting on the hard, dry road came to her ears, and almost immediately the high dog-cart swung between the granite gateposts and clattered into the yard.

Dan tossed the reins on to the horse's neck and, springing to the ground, came round to help Magda down from the cart.

"It's rather a steep step. Let me lift you down," he said.

"Very well."

Magda stood up in the trap and looked down at him with smiling eyes, unconsciously delighting in his sheer physical good looks. He was a magnificent specimen of manhood, and the good yeoman blood in him, which had come down through the generations of the same st.u.r.dy stock, proclaimed itself in his fine physique and splendid virility.

A moment later he had swung her down as easily as though she were a child, and she was standing beside him.

She laughed up at him.

"Oh, 'girt Jan Ridd'!" she exclaimed softly.

He laughed back, well pleased. (Was there ever a man who failed to be ridiculously flattered by a feminine tribute to his physical strength?) Nor did his hands release her quite at once.

"You're as light as a feather! I could carry you all day and--"

"Not know it!" concluded Magda gaily.

His hands fell away from her slim body abruptly.

"Oh, I should know it right enough!" he said jerkily.

His eyes kindled, and Magda, conscious of something suddenly disturbing and electric in the atmosphere, turned quickly and, leaving Storran to unharness the horse, made her way to where she espied Gillian sitting.

The latter looked up from her sewing.

"So you've got back? Did you have a good time?"

"Yes. It was quite amusing. There were heaps and heaps of ponies--some of them wild, unbroken colts which had been brought straight off the Moor. They were rearing and plunging all over the place. I loved them!

By the way, I'm gong to learn riding, Gillyflower. Mr. Storran has offered to teach me. He says he has a nice quiet mare I could start on."

A small frown puckered Gillian's brows.

"Do you think Mrs. Storran will like it?"

Magda started.

"Why on earth shouldn't she?"

"Well,"--Gillian spoke with a vague discomfort. "He's her husband!"

"I don't see what that has to do with it," replied Magda. "We're staying here and, of course, the Storrans want to make it as nice as they can for us. Anyway, I'm going to take such goods as the G.o.ds provide."

She got up abruptly and went in the direction of the house, leaving Gillian to digest as best she might the hint that her interference was not likely to be either welcomed or effective.

Left to herself, Gillian sighed unhappily. Almost she wished they had never come to Stockleigh, only that it was pure joy to her to see Coppertop's rather thin little cheeks filling out and growing sunburnt and rosy. He had not picked up strength very readily after his attack of croup, and subsequently the intense heat in London had tried him a good deal.