newly-constructed block of flats in Great Russell Street, while,being also fond of fox-hunting, the only sport we could afford, we alsorented a cheap, old-fashioned house in a rural village called Helpstone,eighty miles from London, in the Fitzwilliam country. Here we spenteach winter, usually being "out" two days a week.
Neither of us being well off, we had, as may be imagined, to practise agood deal of economy, for fox-hunting is an expensive sport to the poorman. Nevertheless, we were both fortunate in possessing a couple ofgood horses apiece, and by dint of a little squeezing here and there,were able to indulge in those exhilarating runs across country whichcause the blood to tingle with excitement, and rejuvenate all who takepart in them.
Reggie was sometimes kept in town by the exigencies of his deal intorchon, Maltese and Honiton, therefore I frequently lived alone in theold-fashioned, ivy-covered house, with Glave, my man, to look after me.
One bitterly cold evening in January Reggie was absent in London, and I,having been hunting all day, was riding home utterly fagged out. Themeet that morning had been at Kate's Cabin, over in Huntingdonshire, andafter two good runs I had found myself beyond Stilton, eighteen milesfrom home. Still, the scent had been excellent, and we had had goodsport, therefore I took a pull at my flask and rode forward acrosscountry in the gathering gloom.
Fortunately I found the river fordable at Water Newton mill, a factwhich saved me the long detour by Wansford, and then when within a mileof home I allowed my horse to walk, as I always did, in order that hemight cool down before going to his stable. The dusk of the shortafternoon was just deepening into night, and the biting wind cut me likea knife as I passed the crossroads about half a mile from Helpstonevillage, jogging along steadily, when of a sudden a man's burly figureloomed out of the shadow of the high, holly hedge, and a deep voiceexclaimed--
"Pardon me, sir, but I'm a stranger in these parts, and my daughter herehas fainted. Is there a house near?"
Then, as I drew near, I saw huddled upon a heap of stones at theroadside the slim, fragile form of a young girl of about sixteen,wrapped in a thick, dark-coloured cloak, while in the glimmer of lightthat remained I distinguished that the man who was addressing me was abluff, rather well-spoken, dark-bearded fellow of about forty-five orso, in a frayed suit of blue serge and peaked cap that gave himsomething of the appearance of a seafarer. His face was seamed andweatherbeaten, and his broad, powerful jaws betokened a strength ofcharacter and dogged determination.
"Has your daughter been taken ill?" I inquired, when I had thoroughlyexamined him.
"Well, the fact is we've walked a long way to-day, and I think she'sdone up. She became dazed like about half an hour ago, and when she satdown she fell insensible."
"She mustn't stay here," I remarked, as the fact became plain that bothfather and daughter were tramps. "She'll get frozen to death. My houseis over yonder. I'll ride on and bring back some one to help carryher."
The man commenced to thank me, but I touched my horse with the spur, andwas soon in the stableyard calling for Glave to accompany me back to thespot where I had left the wayfarers.
A quarter of an hour later we had arranged the insensible girl on acouch in my warm, snug sitting-room, had forced some brandy down herthroat, and she had opened her eyes wonderingly, and looked round withchildlike temerity upon her unfamiliar surroundings.
Her gaze met mine, and I saw that her countenance was undeniablybeautiful, of that dark, half-tragic type, her eyes rendered the moreluminous by the death-like pallor of her countenance. The features werewell-moulded, refined and handsome in every line, and as she addressedher father, inquiring what had occurred, I detected that she was no merewaif of the highway, but, on the contrary, highly intelligent, wellmannered and well educated.
Her father, in a few deep words, explained our abrupt meeting and myhospitality, whereupon she smiled upon me sweetly and uttered words ofthanks.
"It must have been the intense cold, I think," she added. "Somehow Ifelt benumbed all at once, and my head swam so that I couldn't stand.But it is really very kind indeed of you. I'm so sorry that we'vedisturbed you like this."
I assured her that my only wish was for her complete recovery, and as Ispoke I could not conceal from myself that her beauty was veryremarkable. Although young, and her figure as yet not fully developed,her face was nevertheless one of the most perfect I had ever seen. Fromthe first moment my eyes fell upon her, I found her indescribablycharming. That she was utterly exhausted was rendered plain by thepainful, uneasy manner in which she moved upon her couch. Her rustyblack skirt and thick boots were muddy and travel-stained, and by themanner she pushed the tangled mass of dark hair from her brow I knewthat her head ached.
Glave, in no good mood at the introduction of tramps, entered,announcing that my dinner was ready; but she firmly, yet with sweetgrace, declined my invitation to eat, saying that if I would permit hershe would rather remain alone on the couch before the fire for half anhour longer. Therefore I sent her some hot soup by old Mrs. Axford, ourcook, while her father, having washed his hands, accompanied me to thediningroom.
He seemed half-famished, taciturn and reserved at first, but presently,when he had judged my character sufficiently, he explained that his namewas Burton Blair, that in his absence abroad he had lost his wife tenyears before, and that little Mab was his only child. As his appearancedenoted, he had been at sea the greater part of his life and held amaster's certificate, but of late he had been living ashore.
"I've been home these three years now," he went on, "and I've had apretty rough time of it, I can tell you. Poor Mab! I wouldn't haveminded had it not been for her. She's a brick, she is, just as her poordear mother was. She's done three years of semi-starvation, and yetshe's never once complained. She knows my character by now, she knowsthat when once Burton Blair makes up his mind to do a thing, by Gad! hedoes it," and he set those square jaws of his hard, while a look ofdetermination and dogged persistency came into his eyes, the fiercest Ihad ever seen in any man.
"But, Mr. Blair, why did you leave the sea to starve ashore?" Iinquired, my curiosity aroused.
"Because--well, because I had a reason--a strong reason," was hishesitating reply. "You see me homeless and hungry to-night," laughedBurton Blair, bitterly, "but to-morrow I may be a millionaire!"
And his face assumed a mysterious, sphinx-like expression which sorelypuzzled me.
Many and many a time since then have I recollected those strange,prophetic words of his as he sat at my table, shabby, unkempt andravenously hungry, a worn-out, half-frozen tramp from the highroad, who,absurd as it then seemed, held the strong belief that ere long he wouldbe the possessor of millions.
I remember well how I smiled at his vague assertion. Every man whofalls low in the social scale clings to the will-o'-the-wisp belief thathis luck will change, and that by some vagary of fortune he will come upagain smiling. Hope is never dead within the ruined man.
By dint of some careful questions I tried to obtain further informationregarding this confident hope of wealth which he entertained, but hewould tell me nothing--absolutely nothing.
He accepted a cigar after he had dined well, took brandy with hiscoffee, and smoked with the air of a contented man who had no singlethought or care in the world--a man who knew exactly what the futureheld for him.
Thus, from the very first, Burton Blair was a mystery. On rejoiningMabel we found her sleeping peacefully, utterly fagged out. Therefore Iinduced him to remain beneath my roof that night, in order that shemight rest, and, returning to the dining-room, her father and I sattogether smoking and talking for several hours.
He told me of his hard, rough years at sea, of strange adventures insavage lands, of a narrow escape from death at the hands of a band ofnatives in the Cameroons, and of how, for three years, he acted ascaptain of a river-steamer up the Congo, one of the pioneers ofcivilisation. He related his thrilling adventures calmly and naturally,without any bragging, but just in that plain, matter-
of-fact mannerwhich revealed to me that he was one of those men who love anadventurous life because of its perils and its vicissitudes.
"And now I'm tramping the turnpikes of England," he added, laughing."You must, no doubt, think it very strange, Mr. Greenwood, but to tellyou the truth I am actively prosecuting a rather curious quest, thesuccessful issue of which will one day bring me wealth beyond my wildestdreams. See!" he added, with a strange wild look in his great darkeyes, as swiftly undoing his blue guernsey and delving beneath it hedrew forth a square, flat piece of soiled and well-worn chamois leatherin which there seemed to be sewed some precious document or other."Look! My secret lies here. Some day I shall discover the key to it--maybe to-morrow or next day, or next year. When, it is quiteimmaterial. The result will be the same. My years of continuous
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