The Way of an Eagle Part 13

"You're as thin as a herring yourself," Muriel retorted, with a most unwonted flash of spirit.

He lifted his grinning face to her as she settled herself in the saddle, and then uncovering swiftly he bent and kissed the black cloth of her habit, humbly, reverently, as became a slave.

It sent a queer thrill through her, that kiss of his. She felt that it was in some fashion a revelation; but she was still too blinded by groping in dark places to understand its message. As they trotted side by side out of the compound, she knew her face was burning, and turned it aside that he might not see.

It was a wonderful morning. There was intoxication in the scent of the pines. The whole atmosphere seemed bewitched. They gave their horses the rein and raced with the wind through an enchanted world. It was the wildest, most alluring ride that she had ever known, and when Nick called a halt at last she protested with a flushed face and sparkling eyes.

Nevertheless, it was good to sit and watch the rapid transformation that the sun-G.o.d was weaving all about them. She saw the spurs of Jakko fade from pink to purest amber, and then in the pa.s.sage of a few seconds gleam silver in the flood of glory that topped the highest crests. And her heart fluttered oddly at the sight, while again she thought of the eagle of her dream, cleaving the wide s.p.a.ces, and bearing her also.

She glanced round for Nick, but he had wheeled his horse and was staring out towards the plains. She wondered what was pa.s.sing in his mind, for he sat like a statue, his face turned from her. And suddenly the dread loneliness of the mountains gripped her as with a chilly hand. It seemed as if they two were alone together in all the world.

She walked over to him. "I'm cold, Nick," she said, breaking in upon his silence almost apologetically. "Shall we go?"

He stretched out a hand to her without turning his head, without speaking. But she would not put her own within it, for she was afraid.

After a long pause he gave a sudden sharp sigh, and pulled his horse round. "Eh? Cold? We'll fly down to Annandale. There's plenty of time before us. By the way, I want to introduce you to a friend of mine--Daisy Musgrave. Ever heard of her? She and Blake Grange are first cousins. You'll like Daisy. We are great chums, she and I."

Muriel had heard of her from Captain Grange. She had also once upon a time met Daisy's husband.

"I liked him, rather," she said. "But I thought he must be very young."

"So he is," said Nick. "A mere infant. He's in the Civil Service, and works like an ox. Mrs. Musgrave is very delicate. She and the baby were packed off up here in a hurry. I believe she has a weak heart.

She may have to go home to recruit even now. She doesn't go out at all herself, but she hopes I will take you to see her. Will you come?"

Muriel hesitated for a moment. "Nick," she said, "are you telling--everybody--of our--engagement?"

"Of course," said Nick, instantly. "Why not?"

She could not tell him, only she was vaguely dismayed.

"I told Lady Ba.s.sett yesterday evening," he went on. "Didn't she say anything to you?"

"Oh, yes. She kissed me and said she was very pleased." Muriel's cheeks burned at the recollection.

"How nice of her!" commented Nick. He shot her a sidelong glance.

"Dear Lady Ba.s.sett always says and does the right thing at the right moment. It's her speciality. That's why we are all so fond of her."

Muriel made no response, though keenly aware of the subtlety of this speech. So Nick disliked her hostess also. She wondered why.

"You see," he proceeded presently, "it is as well to be quite open about it as we are going to be married so soon. Of course every one realises that it is to be a strictly private affair. You needn't be afraid of any demonstration."

It was not that that had induced her feeling of dismay, but she could not tell him so.

"And Mrs. Musgrave knows?" she questioned.

"I told her first," said Nick. "But you mustn't mind her. She won't commit the fashionable blunder of congratulating you."

Muriel laughed nervously. She longed to say something careless and change the subject, but she was feeling stiff and unnatural, and words failed her.

Nick brought his horse up close to hers.

"There's one thing I want to say to you, Muriel, before we go down,"

he said.

"Oh, what?" She turned a scared face towards him.

"Nothing to alarm you," said Nick, frowning at her quizzically. "I wanted to say it some minutes ago only I was shy. Look here, dear." He held out to her a twist of tissue-paper on the palm of his hand. "It's a ring I want you to wear for me. There's a message inside it. Read it when you are alone."

Muriel looked at the tiny packet without taking it. She had turned very white. "Oh, Nick," she faltered at last, "are you--are you--quite sure?"

"Quite sure of what?" questioned Nick. "Your mind? Or my own?"

"Don't!" she begged tremulously. "I can't laugh over this."

"Laugh!" said Nick sharply. And then swiftly his whole manner changed.

"Yes, it's all right, dear," he said, smiling at her. "Take it, won't you? I am--quite--sure."

She took it obediently, but her reluctance was still very manifest.

Nick, however, did not appear to notice this.

"Don't look at it now," he said. "Wait till I'm not there. Put it away somewhere for the present, and let's have another gallop."

She glanced at him as she slipped his gift into her pocket. "Won't you let me thank you, Nick?" she asked shyly.

"Wait till you've seen it," he returned. "You may not think it worth it. Ready? One! Two! Three!"

In the scamper that followed, the blood surged back to her face, and her spirits rose again; but in her secret heart there yet remained a nameless dread that she was as powerless to define as to expel.

CHAPTER XII

THE MESSAGE

Lady Ba.s.sett was still invisible when Muriel returned to the bungalow though breakfast was waiting for them on the verandah. She pa.s.sed quickly through to her room and commenced hasty preparations for a bath. It had been a good ride, and she realised that, though tired, she was also very hungry.

She slipped Nick's gift out of the pocket of her riding-habit, but she would not stop to open it then. That should come presently, when she had the whole garden to herself, and all the leisure of the long summer morning before her. She felt that in a sense she owed him that.

But a note that caught her eye lying on the table she paused to open and hastily peruse. The writing was unfamiliar to her--a dashing, impetuous scrawl that excited her curiosity.

"Dear Miss Roscoe," it ran,--"Don't think me an unmitigated bore if you can help it. I am wondering if you would have the real kindness to waive ceremony and pay me a visit this afternoon. I shall be quite alone, unless my baby can be considered in the light of a social inducement. I know that Nick contemplates bringing you to see me, and so he shall, if you prefer it. But personally I consider that he would be decidedly _de trop_. I feel that we shall soon know each other so well that a formal introduction seems superfluous. Let me know your opinion by word of mouth, or if not, I shall understand. Nick, being of the inferior species, could hardly be expected to do so, though I admit that he is more generously equipped in the matter of intellect than most.--Your friend to be,

"Daisy Musgrave."

Muriel laid down the letter with a little smile. Its spontaneous friendliness was like a warm hand clasping hers. Yes, she would go, she decided, as she splashed refreshingly in her bath, and that not for Nick's sake. She knew instinctively that she was going to discover a close sympathy with this woman who, though an utter stranger to her, yet knew how to draw her as a sister. And Muriel's longing for such human fellowship had already driven her to extremes.