the week was beggared, and had borrowed two days from the next, when power came riding back to surprise. he had left the musterers and the cook's waggon after breakfast to find their own way home, and a steady walk all day across the plain brought him at evening to the bottom of the long slope of dingo gap, and a bare half-dozen miles from surprise. man and beast had made small matter of the journey.
power came back in better cheer. reflection stays at the fireside when a man rides off at the heels of a mob of cattle, and power came home with only the recollections of a summer madness to flick his memory. a mile of difficult travelling hid him from the crossways, and who denies fate sits there sometimes pointing the path to follow?
half-way up the distance, where the road swings back upon itself, and a hurly-burly of rocks shuts the sight from climbing farther, where it takes a good man to steer a buggy—[pg 119]there, i say to you, power met moll gregory, astride a shabby horse, face to face. she was going down and he was going up, and they must halt their horses to divide the way.
at once the old sickness returned. leech, thou hast tinkered with thine ointments, bring now the knife to heal. the beast was knock-kneed and at odds with age, with a moulding saddle across its back and a sack of goods hanging at either side. the girl was dressed in coarse stuff cut out with poor skill on some close night by the light of a hurricane lamp. a big hat, sitting on her head like a roof, spoiled the fury of the suns; yet that beauty found full forgiveness for the shabby setting.
the horses waited side by side, and moll gregory sat an arm's length away; but the nearness cost her no effort, and she looked up unconcerned. the frown left power's forehead.
"hullo, mister; back again?"
"you are well loaded up," he said. "two tucker bags full to the throat."
"i get the tucker now. mum and me reckon to keep dad home if we can. he's too much trouble when he gets a drop into him."
"it's a long way round by the gap."
"it makes a change."
"how has the show turned out?"
"a1. but dad isn't over fond of a shovel.[pg 120] he's took up with the wire strainer again, and says there's heaps of money in it when it gets going. you should hear him and mum on at it of a night." she laughed. her voice was charming when no words defiled it. she waved the flies away and lifted her hat a little. she may have thought power looked at the hat overlong, for she said: "it isn't great shakes, is it?"
"better than getting burnt up."
"the suns have took longer than i remember doing me harm. anyway there wouldn't be many to growl if i was spoilt. maybe a gum-tree or two by the river, or old bluey the dog might see a change. there's none else to take notice."
it was for power to come forward with the compliment; but she received silence for her pains. she pouted charmingly as a child might do.
all the moods sat in her eyes, and a hurry of passions, grave and gay, waited on her ready lips. had she been a little older, or read another page of life, she might have understood those silences, and taking pity, have set her horse upon the road. but she looked across to say:
"i reckon you don't take much account of looks in a girl." she failed again. a third time she tried. "others do."
"i see," he said. he pushed a hand across his[pg 121] face, for the flies held high festival that afternoon. "we didn't leave you lonely when we rode off?"
"no," came with a toss of the head. "all men aren't like you, mr. power. some knows a neat ankle, though it takes the best part of a dozen mile through the bush to find it."
"and this bold knight, is he young and charming?"
"no, he isn't. he's fat, and sweats when he walks. but he knows how to talk a girl round, and he calls me his princess."
"then it is a royal courtship on both sides." she did not understand. "king is your courtier," he said. "i'm glad we didn't all forget you." there fell a little pause and his forehead wrinkled up. then he said earnestly: "answer me, girl. i am not asking for nothing. mick o'neill is in love with you. do you mean to run square with him; or is he to be the dog barking up the tree, and the 'possum not at home?"
she showed a flash of temper for the first time.
"my name is moll gregory, my address is north queensland, and i am not telling what i do to every feller stopping me on the road."
but she met her better at this business. power broke in on top of her. "he is a good man, and he'll play you straight, whether you play him straight or don't. he is my friend, that's all."
[pg 122]
the anger went out of their faces. power was searching for something to say, but she was the quicker.
"i'm not going to quarrel with you yet," she said, her head to one side. "it's too dead dull on the river to start scaring blokes away. when will you come along for another look at the show? dad's done a bit you know there. he's dotty on the wire strainer. that's what has slowed him up. what about to-night?"
"not to-night. another day. to-morrow, if you like."
"to-night."
"not to-night."
"to-night," she said again, frowning.
"to-morrow."
"i reckon you don't have too many manners, mister. a girl don't say to-night too often, you know."
"i——oh, why won't to-morrow do?"
"very well," she said, much put out and taking no trouble to hide it. "i'll talk to meself to-night while mum and dad fights over the wire strainer. only i reckon a girl don't feel too good when she says to-night and a feller says to-morrow."
"then to-night it is."
the smiles ran all about her face. "that's a promise, mister?"
[pg 123]
"yes."
"and early?"
"not too late."
she leaned a little out of the saddle, with her dainty teeth just apart. "they say you are a smart man among cattle, mister."
"that's good news."
"it takes a quick man to be a daddy stockman, don't it?"
"it does."
"then i reckon all your quickness has gone into cattle," she answered, and broke into another peal of laughter, and flicked the old horse awake, and so passed on down the road.
power drew his reins together and finished the journey up the hill. you look upon a very fair prospect from the summit of dingo gap; long lines of hills lifting broad bosoms to the sky; far behind on the plain the broad belt of the river; ahead the broken pathway dipping downward to surprise. power was short-sighted that evening, and waiting up there to breathe his horse he fell into a brown study, and looked from a pinnacle of his soul down a valley long as the roadway of dingo gap. mayhap he called himself turncoat, wearer of any man's livery, weathercock to flap wings to every wind; sufficient it is, he left his thoughts presently, for the day grew old, and by sunset he had ridden into the beginnings[pg 124] of surprise. with a nod here, a good day there, he passed to the stable and spent the last minutes of daylight serving his horse. that matter to his mind, he turned steps towards the house.
maud neville sat before the house alone. at his coming, she jumped up in great good spirits. he guessed she had counted on the meeting, for she wore a dress he had noticed once. yet he must remark the wear and tear of summer on her face, and fall out of humour at his own keenness of sight. he did his best to meet her mood. "back once again," he called out.
"you owe us two days," she answered. and next she cried: "jim, jim, i'm so glad." she left the kisses she had waiting for him till later on, as messrs boulder and niven took the evening against the store across the way, pipe at mouth, the tail of an eye cocked for whatever might go forward.
standing there at the doorstep of the house power became suddenly aware that he had to his credit a long day's ride, and that he was tired. the cries of the crickets and other evening insects entered his consciousness, and with surprise he remarked the afterglow of the sunset, and realised night would fall in a few minutes. this slight fatigue affected him suddenly and strangely. he saw with new vision the pure[pg 125] soul of the woman who waited now ready to receive him. always she met him with open hands, whether he came in good humour or in bad. she bore the tiring summer days without repining, and, more than that, from the daily course of affairs extracted a philosophy of life. he was tired after the day's ride, and here she stood desiring only to banish his fatigue by her ministrations. she had had her own day's work, but that was unremembered. she had learned that giving was more profitable than taking. he saw how often he hunted the shadow and missed the substance.
the cries of the insects began again while the afterglow faded in the sky. the promise he had made an hour since came to mind. he bent his brows at thought of it. well, it was given now. it must be kept. maud was leading the way into the house, and he was following her mechanically. in the dining-room a table was laid for one person. the cloth was clean; all was ready to hand. she had done this on the chance of his coming to-night. this joy of service was love. and he too claimed to love. yet he had put himself out little enough when all was said and done—came much when he wanted, went much when he wished. what a good woman she was, yet he always had to be telling himself this. he was one of those heavy-eyed dullards who would[pg 126] not believe in the butterfly because the chrysalis was a poor thing.
what was happening this evening that he was for ever dreaming? he had often enough been a bit tired; but it had not caused melancholy. why shirk the point? the child on the road had moved him beyond all experience. she had put a torch to his thoughts. she had seemed an echo of all lovers who had tripped down the corridors of time.
"wake up, jim! you are tired, poor boy."
"i have been at it all day. give me something to eat."
"see, we expected you. while you wash i shall have it all ready."
he left the room, and a minute or two later he found the meal waiting for him, and she in a seat opposite, elbows on table, hands making a cup for her chin, her face gay and full of fondness. "sit down, jim, and begin at the beginning."
he went through his examination, and at the same time made a good supper. he received a shake of the head or a nod, a pout or a frown according to the telling of his story.
"jim, do you know what i did this morning? i woke up very early and found there had been a sudden change in the night. quite a cold breeze was blowing. i had to get up at once. i[pg 127] couldn't help myself. when i was dressed i called out to father i was going for a ride, and went looking for old stockings. it was breaking dawn, and sharp enough to remind you of winter. stockings was quite lively for an old fellow. i went straight out into the plain past the conical hill. the sky was growing brighter all the time. the birds were singing as if it were winter, and the hoofs of stockings rang out clear. plenty of kangaroos were abroad, and one old man stood up and refused to budge as we went by. i pushed on across the plain as long as the sunrise lasted, looking back now and then to see i wasn't losing conical hill. the cold stayed until the sun was over the horizon, and then i turned stockings round and began to walk home. i was thinking that forty, fifty or sixty miles away you had seen this same sunrise, and felt the same cold in your bones. i understood then how much the life meant to you, and why you were always ready for a muster or a journey down the roads with cattle. jim, i think a man working abroad has a better chance of reading life straight than a girl who belongs to the four walls of a house. a man must be a dunce to stay untaught by a morning like to-day. what's making you frown?"
"i'm not frowning, and i don't think you are right, maud. when all is added up, a woman[pg 128] sees her way surer than a man. a good dog has the best religion. he serves his master through fair weather and foul—he heels the cattle in season, he chews his bones in season, and takes his kicks in season. he knows the art of ready service. a woman comes next for quick learning; but a man doesn't find the right way without hurt.... maud, i have something to say. i want you to understand it now. the best man is ill put together. he may be brave, but he runs crooked in his dealings. he may be good at heart, and a pair of stranger eyes turn him off the course. listen, girl ... if things ... well if ever i turn defaulter, put all of me in the scales, and maybe a thing or two will help pull the balance nearer straight."
"poor old jim, don't talk in that heavy way! you have been too hard at it this week. you are tired. i know of something to put you right."
"where are you going?... what have you there?"
a bottle of wine was held up to him.
"we have feasted the visitors since you went away. this is one of the last. don't tell father."
"not this time, maud. another day will do."
"do what you are told. open it."
he obeyed.
"fill both glasses and stand up."
"what madness are you after?"
[pg 129]
"i said, stand up. that's right. now hear what i have to say." she lifted up her glass. she stood by the light of the window, but outside side darkness was falling fast.
"drink, jim, for these glasses have been filled in honour of the past as we have lived it, and of the future as it shall be shaped. the grape ferments, and the red wine results; lovers quarrel and good understanding is born. the orchard blossoms, the blossoms fall to the ground, but from the boughs come forth the fruit. love arrives with spiced dishes, but when the meats have staled, on the table lies the bread of life. we are learning understanding; but other pages of that book remain for our reading. drink to receive the clean heart, the straight purpose, and the good comradeship which walks with those things. let cowardice be unknown between us. the mistake made, we will bare it in our hands, knowing the other will understand."
who knows what power saw in that ruddy wine drunk in the darkened room? he pledged the toast to the end. with never a word more between them they put down their glasses.
"the others are in the verandah," maud said to break the spell, "you must talk to them for half-an-hour. come along."
she led the way. darkness had fallen in a clap while he ate, and lamps had been brought[pg 130] outside. in the distance mr. wells was testing his cornet for the evening's work. from the verandah came sounds of raised voices, and at a first look about, the place was full of people. neville had kept his old seat. at the other end selwyn appeared well off. mrs. selwyn and king, with scabbyback the mangy pointer, and gripper the terrier, filled less important places. somebody smoked good cigars.
the battle for supremacy between the two veterans had led to a division of honours. neville had won his old place handy to the waterbags and the whisky, but selwyn had the cigars and matches at his elbow, and was deep down in his chair, with feet resting at a great height against the wall, as behoved a man whose health was in a rocky state, and no mistake about it. mrs. selwyn endured a straight-backed chair; and king, who liked comfort, but who cared more for peace, was poorly served.
the talk was broken off for a moment when maud led in power. selwyn rose to smile with great charm, and later sank back into the same seat with reluctance, apparently persuaded to keep it against his will. the talk flowed on again.
"you have wakened up since i was away, mr. selwyn," maud said.
[pg 131]
"yes, isn't it a pest?" mrs. selwyn exclaimed. "we have had such a peaceful half hour."
one thing remained to selwyn from the ruins of his wrecked health. he could get his forty minutes' nap after a good meal. "now, look here," he had said in the bedroom before dinner, shaking a tobacco-stained finger, "this absurd stand-on-ceremony is doing me harm. there was excuse for staying awake the first night or two; but my infernal good manners have carried things to an extreme. now, look here," said he, wagging the yellow finger, "when we have had dinner, sing to them, or talk to the girl about clothes, or do something else; but at all costs distract the family from me, so that i can get my sleep. i like hearing the gentle hum of voices when i'm comatose."
"what's your news, power?" the old man grunted from his corner. "morning springs still in the same place, i expect?"
"have you come from morning springs?" mrs. selwyn cried. "what a desperate place! i stood there in the blazing sun half the day waiting for the coach. the top of my head was coming off. the place was turning round me."
"did you see anybody?" said the old man.
"milbanks was in. he says it is pretty dry out his way. says things won't be too good if the rains are late. claney asked after you. he has[pg 132] a silica show in tow. the reverend five-aces turned up at the hotel a couple of nights and seemed in form."
"he sounds a gentleman to keep an eye on," said selwyn. "i think i shall button my pockets when he comes to shrive me."
"you would do better with a sixth ace in your hat," said king. "he may be out here one day soon. he's due for a visit."
"he lost a game when i was in," power went on.
"hey!" cried the old man. "how was that, lad?"
"half-a-dozen of us were at the hotel pretty late, and he made one of a bridge four. upstairs a man was dying in the horrors. he had shouted out all night—very badly. as time went on he grew quiet. mrs. smith, the landlady, a good churchgoer, runs into the room presently. 'mr. thomas, there's a man upstairs very sick. he's dying, sir, or i'll never live to tell another. come upstairs, mr. thomas, and lend him the comforts of the church.'
"five-aces looks at her, and looks at his hand with the king and queen there and all the royal family, and he fingers his chin and says, 'there's no call for this fluster, mrs. smith. he has a pretty strong voice still. there's no[pg 133] call for an hour or two. maybe i'll take a look that way when we've played out the rubber.'
"half an hour later mrs. smith comes in again in great bustle. oh! mr. thomas as true as i mean to go light through purgatory, he cannot last much longer. i tell ye he'll be gone if ye wait.'
"'mrs. smith,' five-aces then says very short, and frowning down his chin. 'i have every card to my hand. your business will keep as long as the rubber, it's my belief.'
"presently mrs. smith comes in again. old five-aces looks very black. 'it's no good, mrs. smith, i have just gone "no trumps." i shall get a "little slam" out of this.'
"'ye needn't put yourself about, sir,' says she. 'there's been a "grand slam" upstairs.'"
mrs. selwyn shuddered. "mr. power, how could you tell such a horrible story. i feel most unwell."
"i am sorry, mrs. selwyn. i won't offend again."
"i pray the creature stays away until i'm gone."
neville chuckled again in his corner. "you would find him charming until you sat down to bridge. many is the yarn we have had over a whisky. he can tell the best story for a hundred miles round. maybe better men could be found[pg 134] to pilot the soul to heaven, but he can claim always to be at the pilot's post, and that's the bridge. there's a good one, maud, gel. he, he! huh, huh, huh!"
mrs. selwyn had not yet recovered. "i sincerely hope our other clergy have a better sense of fitness," she said.
neville was having trouble with his pipe. "a parson comes round these parts with a pack-horse or two every six months for a couple of days, and that is as good as one can expect. he don't get two hundred a year wages, and has to feed himself and his horses. with chaff round our parts up to eighteen shilling a bag, i would shake my head at the job myself. he don't get more than a dozen at his service, for half laughs at him, and the other half, that would go, laugh too because the first half laughs."
"if he comes while we are here, i shall make a point of going," mrs. selwyn said.
"hey, power!" cried neville, jerking his thumb. "here's the whisky."
"a good idea," said king.
"excellent," echoed selwyn.
"father, your fight this afternoon seems to have cheered you up," said maud.
"what fight?" power asked.
"the fellers sent robson up to ask me to [pg 135]unlock the tanks. i put him to the right-about pretty quick. a-huh-huh-huh!"
selwyn sat up. "did you get much sport on your trip, mr. power? there must have been some thundering good chances early in the morning. nobody to blunder about and disturb the game from year end to year end."
"a man doesn't get much spare time with cattle," power answered. "he rides all day, and stands his two watches at night. he is inclined to leave hunting for another time. the cook took a rifle in the waggon, and got a turkey or two; but he sees double, and generally aims at the wrong bird. we had sport of another kind, though, which might have turned into something nasty."
"ah! how was that?"
"on the border of this run and the next is a stretch of timbered country called derby's ten mile. it is a good bit of country, with big holes holding water all the year, and simpson, of kurrajong, my neighbour, keeps it as a horse paddock. for all the fine trees by the river, the place has a bad name. you can't get a man of those parts to camp there the night. there is a story of a swagman murdered on the big hole by his mate twenty years ago. i believe the tale is true, but whether or no, they say on calm nights something cries out in the paddock. this[pg 136] time the cry will sound low down, the next time it will come from the air, and never twice in the same place. you can find a score of men to swear to this. simpson assured me on moonlight nights he has known the horses stampede from the other side of the river.
"a carrier i knew told me an accident to his waggon once forced him to camp there one night. it was winter, freezing hard—as cold as the pole—and you could hear a horse bell a dozen miles. he was sitting over the fire thinking of turning into bed, when he heard a queer screech by a clump of timber a couple of miles away. 'some blanky bird,' he says. he had come round to thoughts of bed again, when he heard the screech a second time, and not more than a mile off, and on the top of it every horse came flying across the dry river bed. they went past him as though they weren't stopping this side of the sea. in a shake the fellow had turned colder than the frost, and he was asking himself what was the trouble, when something shrieked at him, not the length of a bullock team off. he felt a breath of ice in his face——"
behind the house a fowl gave a blood-curdling death-cry. gooseflesh rose on the spine of the bravest there. thanks to that self-command which had stood mrs. selwyn in stead on so many occasions, she exclaimed, "what's that?"[pg 137] and no more. but afterwards she owned that for five minutes she was turning hot and cold. the cry was repeated more faintly. steps sounded outside, and at the same time came the voice of mrs. nankervis, the cook, exclaiming out loud. her steps advanced in a hurry across the house. she burst through the doorway, all wind and heavy breaths, and hands pressed to her ample sides.
"lord save us! there's a python got the yaller pullet under the house."
"python!" cried selwyn, clapping hands to the arms of his chair. "what size?"
"ah! like that!" mrs. nankervis threw her arms out right and left. "twenty foot! thirty foot!"
selwyn scrambled to his feet. "what magnificent luck!"
"it don't go twenty foot, nor half it," said neville, feeling for his stick. "the small ones turn up now and then. the big fellows sit tight in the bush. the pullet's gone. that's a pity. i reckoned on her turning out a good layer."
there was a pushing back of chairs. somebody took the lanterns from the wall. selwyn, mrs. nankervis and the dogs went through the door at the one moment. the rest of the company followed at their heels.
but, beyond the light thrown by the lanterns,[pg 138] the night showed very black, and the hurry of the party abated. the old man began to chuckle from the rear. "go ahead," he said. "i can see satisfactory from here. you have got a lantern, mr. selwyn. ye can get under the house. put the lantern round about the piles first. unless the snake is half way to morning springs, i reckon it's better to take the first look at him from the distance. afterwards ye can wear him for a comforter round your neck. a-huh-huh-huh!"
"hilton, i entreat you to moderate your excitement and consider what you are about. i don't know whether i am on my crown or my toes."
selwyn trembled with anticipation. the cigar did a step-dance between his teeth. he seemed to grow lean before the eyes of the company. he held forward the lantern and re-gripped his stick. step by step he advanced among the piles holding up the house. bring all your eyes to look. the hunter has gone forth to slay. pace by pace he made his ground. inch by inch he obtained a more cunning hold of his staff. gripper, the terrier, wrinkled at the nose and very stiff at tail, followed him to the field of battle; but scabbyback the ancient pointer scratched in the shadows as though digging out the very sea-serpent itself.
[pg 139]
"get out of that, you mangy muddler," selwyn said, prodding him on the way.
the light from the lanterns thrust far into the shadows; and, behold, upon a patch of sand among the piles was discovered the python heaped in an evil mass and holding the dead fowl among his coils. black he showed, and dark green in places, and supple and wicked and beautiful and fierce and fascinating and treacherous all in one glance, so that a man must look to admire, and yet turn his head in loathing.
"that's him! that's him!" said neville. "and i reckoned he wouldn't wait our visit."
"hilton, i implore you," mrs. selwyn cried. that was her single moment of weakness.
selwyn hooked the lantern on a convenient ledge, where the light fell in all corners of the battle-field. the python made no business of departure, but stared at this hurly-burly from cold eyes in a shovel head as big as a woman's hand. forward went selwyn to the combat, taut and tucked up, but never a moment in doubt. all the while he talked to himself, assuring all who cared to listen, courage and a stout right hand must win, and that the gentle persuasion of a boxwood club at the nape of the neck must settle the account even of the serpent of eden.
"a-ha, gently does it. keep back, sir"—and a yelp told that gripper had tested the weight of[pg 140] his master's staff. "kindly, kindly, is my way. bring a lantern this way—more to the right—more to the right. a-ha, my beauty, allow me to introduce the friend in my hand."
neville wagged his head from the back of affairs. "power, ye had better see what he's doing," he said. "he'll be getting into mischief. that will be a big feller when he's pulled straight."
as power stepped forward, mrs. nankervis ran out of the house with the gun.
"there's sense, woman," said neville. "hey, power, give him this."
power put maud in charge of a lantern, and took the gun. "that's rather a risky business, mr. selwyn," he said. "he is too big for a stick."
selwyn stretched out a ravenous hand for the gun. he planted his legs wide apart and put it to his shoulder. the great serpent, head flattened down, stared from callous eyes. gripper showed every tooth. scabbyback had found business in the distance. mrs. selwyn closed her eyes and summoned all her fortitude. there was a moment when everybody waited. a roar sounded underneath the house. the snake whipped his head up and down again in a single movement. his coils fell apart in the twinkling of an eyelid, and riot was let loose. selwyn,[pg 141] scrambling back, knocked the lantern to the ground, and the light jumped up and went out.
the python thrashed the wooden piles, embraced them, rolled free again, knotted itself upon the ground, and fell in a writhing agony among the hunters.
"give me the lamp, girl," power cried out, "and get out quick."
maud held out the lamp. power took the lamp. power bounded back. something struck him across the leg. he leapt farther back. the python in hideous pain beat at the piles and at the air. power heard selwyn beside him mutter "magnificent, magnificent."
"shoot, man; shoot!" power cried. selwyn raised the gun. power pushed forward the lantern to make best use of it. selwyn fired point blank. the uproar in the confined space was immense. there was a heave of the coils. the python was blown in half.
the company drew slowly near, and selwyn fell into a grand attitude, "a-ha," he said. "the old hand has not lost its cunning. a right and left, and there he lies. fifteen foot if an inch, by jove!"
very terrible the python looked in death, torn about on the bloody sand with muscles yet twitching. mrs. selwyn closed her eyes.[pg 142] "hilton, every day you have less consideration for my feelings."
"he'll be a fair size stretched," said the old man, poking with his stick. "i'm sorry about that pullet. hold that lamp straight, maud. ye'll have the glass smoked. some of you had better get this mess cleaned before the ants come. shall we go back to the verandah, mrs. selwyn? snakes don't get through the fly-netting."
they persuaded selwyn back to everyday, and power and he were mourners at the funeral. while they went about the ceremony, maud and king wandered a little way into the dark. they could watch the sextons going in and out of the lamplight, power moving quickly about the matter, and selwyn very full of his past performance. their own employment—finding seats on the warm stones—was the better one, for the night was hot, as are most nights when you go to live at surprise.
"have you nothing to say to-night, mr. king? are a cigarette and the dark all you want these latter days? be wise, and give up looking for copper by pelican pool. i tell you gold would not be worth the labour. give by, give by, and gain your right mind among the ledgers over there."
[pg 143]
"there is more reading by the pool than in all those dreary books."
"a midsummer madness has seized you."
"yet i would not find cure for my folly."
"but look at your ages. a girl of twenty has done this."
"the young man to the matured woman; the old man to the maid. and this is the reason. the young man looks forward to what is to be, but the old man stares over his shoulder at what is slipping away."
"it is a fancy that must pass. you say she neither reads nor writes."
"she is a lantern by whose light i read the book of life."
"mr. king, are you serious this time or not?"
"laugh at me if you like. i know what i am loving. she is young and wild—a flower of these hot grounds, quick come to bloom, quick to pass away, and without a soul, even as these bush flowers are without scent. she should sleep upon a couch of blossoms, and go abroad crowned with garlands; and i would play the elderly satyr and pipe her through the summer."
power came across. the funeral was over; but selwyn waited yet by the grave, smoking a fresh cigar in honour of combat valiantly fought and splendidly won. king got up, and in the talk that started walked away.
[pg 144]
"sit down, jim," maud said.
"maud, i shall not be staying to-night. i'll come across to-morrow, though."
"what?" she answered coldly, and frowning of a sudden.
"i've work i must fix up. i am as sorry as you are. i shall be across to-morrow."
"you have never had sudden work like this that wouldn't keep."
"maybe there won't be any again. come, it can't be helped. i must get away."
"good night, then."
"don't be silly, maud."
"it is useless crying when a thing can't be mended. so good night."
"you'll think better of things to-morrow. then, there it is—good night."
she kissed him coldly when he bent his head; but repenting in the same breath, she drew him to her. "jim, you told me so suddenly, and i am horribly disappointed. good luck to you until to-morrow."
he had nothing to say.
