The Red Derelict Part 21

He looked at her a trifle gravely. There was something very taking in her genuineness and spontaneity. In the present instance she had voiced what was often in his mind.

"Yes, indeed I do," he said; "so much so that at times it is almost startling."

It did not occur to him how he was giving vent to some of the most solemn side of his meditations for the benefit of this girl--this daughter of the drunken, disreputable, old ex-army vet, any other member of whose family he would not willingly have had there at all. But had he known her better--that is, had he known her before that eventful day--he would have reason to marvel at the great and wondrous change that had come over her within that short s.p.a.ce of time. Her former slanginess, and other amenities and ideas begotten of Siege House, were to her now quite of the past, so effective had been recent influences to refine and soften her.

"Look there, we are in luck's way so far," he said. "Have you got an exposure ready?"

They had reached a high paling with the upper part bent over inward. In front was a step-ladder giving access to a small wooden platform at the top of this.

"Don't show too suddenly," he whispered as he helped her up this; "you've a fine chance."

Delia could hardly restrain a cry of delight. About twenty yards away a couple of white-tailed gnus were feeding, and just beyond three more of the larger and brindled kind, and a little apart from these a fine specimen of the sable antelope. It was as if some fortunate freak of Nature had grouped and focussed the lot for her own especial benefit.

"Got 'em," she whispered, clicking the trigger.

Up went every head. The white-tailed gnus, their wild eyes staring out of fierce-looking, whiskered countenances surmounted by sharp meat-hook-like horns, began to snort and prance round and round. Those of the other kind drew nearer, uttering a raucous bellow.

"Now, snap them again," whispered Wagram; "you'll never get a better chance."

"There; that'll be perfect. Are there any more, Mr Wagram?"

"None worth taking. Some of the smaller kinds of antelope; but we hope to get some more specimens. Haldane got these for us. He's been an up-country sportsman in his time, and shot lots of them."

"How picturesque they look; but they are very ugly."

"Not the sable antelope?"

"Oh no; the others. They look as if Nature had started to make a goat, then changed her mind, and manufactured a bad attempt at a buffalo, with a dash of the camel thrown in."

"Good description," laughed Wagram. The creatures, excited by the sound, snorted and bellowed, pawing the ground or capering in absurd antics, while two had got up a sham fight on their own account.

"Supposing we were to go down into the enclosure?" she said.

"Hadn't you a specimen of what that would mean the other day? We have notices posted everywhere warning people against venturing in; but this part of the park is right away from any public road, and we don't encourage trippers. Hallo!"--looking up--"it's lucky you got your snapshots. It has started to rain."

Big drops were pattering down. The sky had become quickly overcast, and an ominous boom from a black, inky background of cloud told that a summer shower was upon them with characteristic suddenness. They regained the shed where they had left their bicycles only in the nick of time, as, with a roar and a rush, the rain whirled upon them in a tremendous downpour. Then the vivid sheeting of blue electricity, almost simultaneously with the sharp thunder-crack. The girl gave a little start.

"Are you afraid of thunder?" asked Wagram, with a smile.

"Not now. Sometimes when I am alone I get rather nervous, but now I don't mind it a bit."

She spoke no more than the truth. She would have welcomed another hour of the most appalling thunderstorm that ever raged to sit here as she was doing now, and spend it in this man's society. Yet a wooden shed, open in front, and overhung by tall, spreading oaks, is not perhaps, the safest refuge in the world under all the circ.u.mstances. But the thunder and lightning soon pa.s.sed over, although it continued to rain smartly.

"Mr Wagram, there is something I would like to talk to you about," began the girl, rather constrainedly, after a quite unwonted interval of silence--for her. "I have been thinking of late that I would like to be a Catholic."

Wagram looked up keenly.

"Have you given the question careful study?" he said.

"I have thought it over a great deal. I am fairly at home in the Catholic services. You see, I was travelling on the Continent as companion for a time, and then we always attended them, so I do know something about it."

"To know 'something' isn't sufficient; you must know everything."

"Tell me, then. What should I do?"

"First, be sure that you are thoroughly in earnest; then you must undergo instruction."

Delia's face brightened.

"I will," she said. "But--tell me how."

"There is a mission in Ba.s.singham. Go and consult the priest there."

Delia tried all she knew to keep her face from falling. She had hoped, in her ignorance, that Wagram would have accepted the post of instructor.

"Father Sonnenbloem!" she said. "But, he's a German."

"Well, what then? My dear child, the Catholic Church is the Church of the World, and is above nationality in that it embraces all nations-- hence its name. As it happens, Father Sonnenbloem is one of the most kind-hearted and saintly men who ever lived. He is learned, too. If you are in earnest you could go to no one better."

Delia declared that she would; and, the rain having ceased, they went forth just as a bright shaft of sunlight, darting through the cloud, which it was fast dispelling, converted the rain drippings from the leaves into a shower of glittering diamonds, and the moist, ferny, woodland scents after the shower were delicious.

"We shall have a splashy ride back, I'm afraid," said Wagram as they regained the road. "No; it has run off rather than soaked in. It won't hurt us; and you'll have the sun for your remaining shots."

After she had taken the chapel and the Priest's Walk--she must take that, she said--Delia asked, somewhat diffidently, if she could see the ornaments.

"Certainly," answered Wagram; "only we must get hold of Father Gayle for that, because he has got the keys of all the best things."

The chaplain was at home, and soon found.

"Been taking our private Zoo, I hear, Miss Calmour," he said genially as he joined them. "Your second sight of it is not quite so startling as your first, eh?"

In the sacristy--for they did not do things by halves at Hilversea-- Delia was lost in wonder and delight at the beauty of the vestments and ornaments, rich and exquisite in texture and design, and she almost had to shade her eyes to look at the great sun-shaped monstrance, blazing with precious stones; but what interested her no less, perhaps, was a splendid old chasuble of Flemish make, rich and full, and displaying a perfect chronicle of symbolism in every detail of its embroidery, which Wagram p.r.o.nounced to have been almost certainly worn by their martyred relative.

"From that to my boy's things is something of a skip," he went on, half opening a drawer, in which lay an acolyte's dress of scarlet and lace; "only the rascal isn't over-keen on getting inside them when he's here-- eh, Father? Says he has enough of that sort of thing to do at school."

"Oh, well, we mustn't expect a boy to be too pious," laughed the priest.

"I know I was anything but that at his age."

Delia was interested. It was the first time she had heard Wagram refer to his son, and she was about to question him on the subject when the sound of a door opening, and of voices inside the chapel, caught their attention.

"It's Haldane and Yvonne," p.r.o.nounced Wagram. "Perhaps they've come to have a practice."

His conjecture proved correct, as in a minute or two the new arrivals joined them in the sacristy. They wanted to try over a few things, they said, and now the organist was nowhere to be found. Wagram couldn't play and sing at the same time, and the same held good of Yvonne, while Haldane couldn't play at all. What on earth was to be done?

"Could I be of any use, Mr Haldane?" said Delia with some diffidence.

"I have some knowledge of accompaniment, and am used to the organ; in fact, I can sing _and_ play at the same time without difficulty."

"The very thing!" cried Haldane. "What a friend in need you are, Miss Calmour."