The Triumph of Hilary Blachland Part 4

The eyes which met hers from the pictured cardboard were the eyes which had been all powerful to sway her, body and soul, as no other glance had ever availed to do; the face was that which had filled her every thought, day and night, and as no other had ever held it. Ah, but that was long ago: and time, and possession, utterly without restriction, had palled the heretofore only dreamed-of bliss!

"Yes, I think we are tired of each other," she pursued. "He never takes me anywhere with him now. Says a camp's no place for me, with nothing but men in it. As if I'd go if there were other women. Pah! I hate women. He used not to say that. Ah, well! And Justin! he really is a dear boy. I believe I am getting to love him, and when he comes back I shall give him a--Well, wait till he does. Perhaps by then I shall have changed my mood."

She had dropped into a roomy rocking-chair--a sensuous, alluring personality as she lay back, her full supple figure swaying to the rhythmic movement of the rocker, kept going by one foot.

"It is as Justin said," pursued the train of her meditations, "an abominable shame--a beastly shame, he called it--that I should be left all alone like this. Well, if I am, surely no one can blame me for consoling myself. But what a number of them there have been, all mad, quite mad, for the time, though not all so mad as poor Reggie. No, I oughtn't to be proud of that--still I suppose I am. It isn't every woman can say that a man has blown his brains out for her--and such a man as that too--a man of power and distinction, and wealthy enough even for me. If it hadn't been for Hilary, he needn't have done it. And, now Hilary and I are tired of each other. Ah!"

The last aloud. She rose and went to the door. The sound of a distant shot, then another, had given rise to this diversion. It came from away behind the granite kopjes. Her deputed hunter had got to work at any rate, with what result time would show.

The afternoon sun was declining. His rays swept warm and golden upon the spreading veldt and the pioneer residence, the latter looking, within its stockade, like a miniature fort. The air was wonderfully clear and pure; the golden effulgence upon the warm and balmy stillness rendering life well-nigh a joy in itself. The distant mellow shouts of the native herders, bringing in the cows; the thud of the hoofs of knee-haltered horses, nearer home, driven into their nightly stabling-- for lions were p.r.o.ne to sporadic visits, and nothing alive could with safely be left outside; and then, again and again from time to time, the distant crack of the gun away behind the great granite kopjes,--all seemed much nearer by reason of the sweet unearthly stillness.

"He is doing me real service," said Hermia to herself, as she gazed forth over this, and as each far-away report of the double-barrel was borne to her through the sweet evening air. "I think I can see him, sparing no pains--no trouble--climbing those horrid rocks, blown, breathless, simply because I--_I_--have asked him to do so."

The sensuous glow of the rich African evening seemed to infect her. She stood, the sunlight bathing her splendid form, in its easy but still well-fitting covering. She began to wrap herself in antic.i.p.ation, even as the glow of the declining day was wrapping her in its wondrous, ever-changing light. He would be back soon, this man whom she had sent out to toil through the afternoon heat in obedience to her behest. What would he not do if she so ordained it? And yet, as a saving clause, there was ever present to her mind the certainty that in any great and crucial matter his will would come uppermost, and it would be she who should have to receive instructions and follow them implicitly.

But then, if no great or crucial matter ever arose, her regard for him, so far from growing would, in time, diminish. He was younger than she was; his knowledge of the world--let alone his experience of life-- immeasurably inferior to hers. Why, even his whole-souled and entire devotion to herself was the outcome of a certain callowness, the adoration of a boy. But to her omnivorous appet.i.te for adoration it counted for something at any time, and here, where the article was scarce, why, like everything else in that remote corner of the earth, its value stood vastly enhanced. Yet even she could not in candour persuade herself that it contained the element of durability.

And that other? Well, he was tired of her--and she was just a little tired of him. Yet she had at one time pictured to herself, and to him, that life, alone with him, such as she was now leading, would be simple and unalloyed Paradise--they two, the world apart. She had looked up to him as to a G.o.d: now she wondered how she could ever have done so; there were times, indeed, when she was not careful to avoid saying as much.

He had never replied, but there was that in his look which had told her plainer than words that she was fast driving nail after nail into the coffin of their love. His absences had grown more frequent and more prolonged. When at home he was graver, less communicative, never confidential.

And yet--and yet? Could that past ever be slurred over? Had it not left too deep, too indelible a mark on her, on both of them for that?

This was a side, however, upon which Hermia never dwelt. Though physically seductive beyond the average, she was lacking in imagination.

This kept her from looking forward, still more from such unprofitable mental exercise as retrospect. In sum, she was little more than a mere animal, enjoying the sunniness of life, cowering and whimpering when its shadow came. Just now, sunshine was uppermost, and her strong, full-blooded temperament expanded and glowed with pulsating and generous life.

Her meditations were broken in upon, and that by the sound of distant whistling, rapidly drawing nearer. Somehow the strains of "A bicycle made for two," and "Ta-ra-ra boomdeay," seemed to frame a jarring harmony to the sweet sunset beauty of that green and golden sweep of surrounding--the feathery mimosa and the tropical mahobo-hobo tree, and the grey granite piles, yonder, against the purple and red of the western sky--but the shrill whoop and dark forms of the Mashuna boys bringing in the cattle fitted in with the picture. But no eye or ear had she for any such incongruities, any such contrast. Justin Spence was drawing nearer and nearer to the house, with rapid impatient strides, and she could see that he was not returning empty-handed either.

a.s.suming her most seductive manner and most bewitching smile, she strolled down to the gate to welcome him.

CHAPTER FIVE.

THE NET SPREAD.

"Look at this--and this. Five altogether, and I only had six chances.

Not bad, is it? They were beastly wild, you know, and I had to scramble all over that second kopje after them."

He flung down two substantial feathered bunches, representing _in toto_ the guinea-fowl just enumerated.

"You are a dear good boy, Justin," replied Hermia, looking down at the spoils which he had literally laid at her feet, and then up into his eyes. They were clear and blue, the clearer for the healthy brown of the face. How handsome he was, she thought, glancing with a thrill of approval at the tall well set-up form, in all the glory of youth and the full vigour of health. "You are really very reliable--and--you need not go yet. Come in now, and well put away the gun, and you shall stay and have some supper with me; for really I am awfully lonely. Unless, of course, you are afraid of going to your camp so late. They say lion spoor has been seen again."

"If it had been the devil's spoor it would matter about as much or as little," he replied, with huge and delighted contempt.

"Sh! Don't talk about unpleasant subjects--or people," she retorted.

"It isn't lucky."

They had entered the house. After the glow of light without, it seemed almost dark, and the sun had just gone off the world, leaving the brief pretence of an African twilight. An arm stole around her, imprisoning her tightly.

"I want my reward for having carried out your instructions so efficiently," said the young man. "Now give it me."

"Reward! Virtue is its own reward, you silly boy," answered Hermia, glancing up into his eyes, with her mocking ones. "In this case, it will have to be."

"Will it indeed?" he retorted shortly; and, stirred by the maddening proximity, likewise encouraged by a certain insidious yielding of her form within the enforced embrace, he dropped his lips on hers, and kissed them full, pa.s.sionately, again and again.

"There, that will do," she gasped, striving to restrain the thrill that ran through her frame. "I didn't say you might do that. Really, Justin, I shall have to forbid you the house. Let me go, do you hear?"

"Hear? Yes, but I don't intend to obey. Oh--d.a.m.n!"

The last remark was addressed at large as he changed his mind with marvellous alacrity, and, wheeling round, was endeavouring to hang the bandolier to the wall upon a pin that would hardly have held a Christmas card, as though his life depended upon it. For there had suddenly entered behind them one of the small Mashuna boys who did the house and other work--had entered silently withal, the sooty little rascal; and now his goggle eyes were starting from their sockets with curiosity as he went about doing whatever he had to do, sending furtive and interested glances at these two, whom he had surprised in such unwonted proximity.

"See, now, where your impulsiveness comes in," said Hermia, when the interrupter had gone out.

"Is that the name of that small black n.i.g.g.e.r?" said Justin Spence, innocently. "I always thought he was yours."

"Don't be foolish, dear. It's a serious matter."

"Pooh! Only a small black n.i.g.g.e.r. A thing that isn't more than half human."

"Even a small black n.i.g.g.e.r owns a tongue, and is quite human enough to know how to wag it," she reminded him.

"I'll cut it out for the young dog if he does," was the ferocious rejoinder.

"Excellent, as a figure of speech, my dear Justin. Only, unfortunately, in real life, even in Mashunaland, it can't be done."

"Well, shall I give him a scare over it?"

"You can't, Justin. In the first place, you could hardly make him understand. In the second, even if you could, you would probably make matters worse. Leave it alone."

"Oh, it was on your account. It was of you I was thinking."

"Then you don't mind on your own?"

"Not a hang."

She glanced at him in silent approval. This straight, erect fearlessness--this readiness to defy the whole world for her sake appealed to her. She was of the mind of those women of other times and peoples--the possession of whom depended on the possessor's ability to take and keep.

"Well, I must leave you now for a little while," she said. "Those two pickannins are only of any use when I am looking after them. They haven't even learnt to lay a table."

"Let me help you."

"No. Candidly, I don't want you. Be a good boy, Justin, and sit still and rest after your walk. Oh, by the way--" And unlocking a cupboard, she produced a bottle of whisky. "I was very forgetful. You'll like something to drink after the said walk?"

"No, thanks. Really I don't."

"You don't? No wonder you've done no good prospecting. A prospector who refuses a drink after a hot afternoon's exertion! Why, you haven't learnt the rudiments of your craft yet. But you must want one, and so I'll fix it up for you. There, say when--is that right?" she went on brightly, holding out the gla.s.s. "Yes, I know what you are going to say--of course it is, if I mixed it. You ought to be ashamed to utter such a threadbare ba.n.a.lity."

He took the gla.s.s from her hand, but set it down untasted. The magnetism of her eyes had drawn him. It seemed to madden him, to sap his very reason, to stir every fibre in his body.

"No," she said decidedly, deftly eluding the clasp in which he would fain have imprisoned her again, and extending a warning hand. "No, not again,--so soon," she added mentally. "Remember, I have not forgiven you for that outrageous piece of impertinence, and don't know that I shall either. I am wondering how you could have dared."