CHAPTER SEVEN.
"IT CANNOT BE."
In the conjecture that his cousin had fallen into an infatuation forHermia, Hilary Blachland was right--the only respect in which he hadfailed to grasp the full situation being that he had not fathomed thedepth of that infatuation.
He knew her little ways, none better; knew well how insidiouslydangerous she could be to those who did not know them, when she saw fitto lay herself out to attract. That she was laying herself out toentrap Percy was the solution of the whole problem.
Yet not all of it. She had been with the Earles before Percy's arrival,before she could even have known he was in the country at all. And whathad become of Spence? Well, this, too, would be cleared up, for he knewas well as though she had told him in so many words, that before theyparted again she meant to have a private talk with him, and anunderstanding, and to this he was not averse. It would probably be astormy one, for he was not going to allow her to add young West to herlist of victims; and this he was going to give her emphatically tounderstand.
A rustle and a rush in front, and a blekbuck leaped out of the longgrass almost at his horse's feet, for they were riding in line--ahundred yards or so apart. Up went his gun mechanically--a crack and asuspicion of a puff of smoke. The graceful little animal turned acomplete somersault, and lay, convulsively kicking its life away.Another started up, crossing right in front of Percival. The latterslipped to the ground in a moment, got a sight on, and turned it overneatly, at rather a long distance shot.
"I say, Bayfield. Those two Britishers are leading off well," saidEarle, as they pulled in their horses and lighted pipes, to wait tillthe other two should be ready to take the line again.
There are more imposing, but few more enjoyable forms of sport, thanthis moving over a fine rolling expanse of bontebosch veldt, beneath thecloudless blue of the heavens, through the clear exhilarating air of anearly African winter day; when game is plentiful, and anything may jumpout, or rise at any moment; blekbuck or duiker, guinea-fowl or koorhaan,or partridge, with the possibility of a too confiding pauw, and otherunconsidered trifles. All these conditions held good here, yet one, atany rate, of those privileged to enjoy them, keen sportsman as he was,felt that day that something was wanting--that a cloud was dimming thesun-lit beauty of the rolling plains, and an invisible weight crushingthe exhilaration of each successful shot.
Blachland, pursuing his sport mechanically, was striving to shake off anunpleasant impression, and striving in vain. Something seemed to havehappened between yesterday and to-day. Or was it the thought that LynBayfield would be more or less in Hermia's society throughout the wholeof that day? Yet, even if such were the case, what on earth did itmatter to him?
The day came to an end at last, but there had been nothing to complainof in the way of the sport. They had lunched in the veldt, in ordinaryhunter fashion--and in the afternoon had got in among the guinea-fowl;and being lucky enough to break up the troop, had about an hour ofpretty sport--for scattered birds lie well and rise well--and by thetime they turned their faces homeward, were loaded up with about as muchgame--buck and birds--as the horses could conveniently carry.
A flutter of feminine dresses was visible on the stoep, as they drewnear the house, seeing which, an eager look came into Percival West'sface. It was not lost upon his kinsman, who smiled to himselfsardonically, as he recalled how just such a light had been kindled inhis own at one time, and by the same cause. What a long while ago thatseemed--and to think, too, that it should ever have been possible.
A chorus of congratulation arose as the magnitude of the bag becameapparent.
"Those two Britishers knocked spots out of us to-day!" cried Earle."Bayfield and I can clean take a back seat."
"You wouldn't call Mr Blachland a Britisher, surely, Mr Earle?" struckin Hermia. "Why, he's shot lions up-country."
"Eh, has he? How d'you know?" asked Earle eagerly--while he who wasmost concerned mentally started.
"Didn't he tell us so this morning?" she said, and her glance ofmischief was not lost upon Blachland, who remarked:
"Does that fact denationalise me, Mrs Fenham? You said I couldn't becounted a Britisher."
"Well, you know what I meant."
"Oh, perfectly."
There was a veiled cut-and-thrust between these two: imperceptible tothe others--save one.
That one was Lyn. Her straight instinct and true ear had warned her.
"She is an adventuress," was the girl's mental verdict. "An impostor,who is hiding something. Some day it will come out." Now she said toherself, watching the two, "He doesn't like her. No, he doesn't." Andthere was more satisfaction in this conclusion than even its framer wasaware of.
Throughout the evening, too, Hilary found himself keenly observing newdevelopments, or the possibility of such. At supper, they were mostlyshooting all the day's bag over again, and going back over the incidentsof other and similar days. Percival, in his seat next Hermia, wasdividing his attention between his host's multifold reminiscence and hisnext-door neighbour, somewhat to the advantage of the latter. A newdevelopment came, however, and it was after they had all got up from thetable, and some, at any rate, had gone out on to the stoep to see themoon rise. Then it was, in the sudden transition from light todarkness, Blachland felt his hand stealthily seized and something thrustinto it--something which felt uncommonly like a tiny square of foldedpaper. Hermia's wrap brushed him at the time, and Hermia's voice,talking evenly to Percival on the other side, arrested his ear. Therewas a good deal more talk, and lighting of pipes, and presently it wasvoted too cold to remain outside. But, on re-entering, the party hadundergone diminution by two. Mrs Earle was looking more discontentedthan ever.
"What's the odds?" chuckled her jolly spouse, with a quizzical wink athis two male guests. "They're a brace of Britishers. They only want totalk home shop. Fine woman that Mrs Fenham, isn't she, Blachland?"
"Yes. How did you pick her up?" he replied, noticing that thediscontented look had deepened on the face of his hostess, and bearingin mind Bayfield's insinuations, thought that warm times might be instore for Hermia.
"Oh, the wife found her. I hadn't anything to do with it. But she'sfirst-rate in her own line: gets the nippers on no end. Makes 'emlearn, you know."
Would surprises never end? thought Hilary Blachland. Here was anamazing one, at any rate, for he happened to know that Hermia's mind, asfar as the veriest rudiments of education were concerned, was prettynearly a blank. How on earth, then, did she contrive to impartinstruction to others? He did not believe she could, only that she hadsucceeded in humbugging these people most thoroughly.
Then they had manoeuvred Lyn to the piano, and got her to sing, butHilary, leaning back in his chair, thought that somehow it did not seemthe same as up there in her own home, when night after night he had satrevelling in the sweet, clear, true notes. And then the other two,entering from their moonlight stroll, had subsided into a cornertogether. The sight reminded him of Spence, who must needs make an openbook of his callow, silly face. Percival was doing the same.
"Just as I thought," he said to himself, an hour later, as under coverof all the interchange of good nights, he managed to slip away for amoment to investigate the contents of the mysterious paper. "`Meetto-morrow and have an explanation, or I may regret it all my life.'Um--ah! very likely I shall do that in any case. Still, I'm curiousabout the explanation part of it myself, so meet we will."
"Come along, old chap," said Percival, grabbing him by the arm. "You'vegot to doss down in my diggings, and we'll have a good round jaw untilwe feel sleepy. Phew! it's cold!" he added, as they got out on to thestoep--for Percival's room was at the end of the stoep, and was quiteshut off from the house. The moonlit veldt stretched away in dim beautyaround, its stillness broken by the weird yelp of hunting jackals, orthe soft whistle of the invisible plover overhead.
They had been talking of all sorts of indifferent things. Blachlandknew, howeve
r, that the other wanted to talk on a subject that was notindifferent, and was shy to lead up to it. He must help him throughdirectly, because he didn't want to be awake all night. But when theyhad turned in and had lit their pipes for a final smoke, Percivalbegan--
"I say, Hilary, what do you think of that Mrs Fenham?"
"Rather short acquaintance to give an opinion upon, isn't it?"
"No. Skittles! But I say, old chap, she's devilish fetching, eh?"
"So you seem to find. It strikes me, Percy, you're making a goodish bitof running in that quarter. Look out."
The other laughed good-humouredly, happily in fact.
"Why `look out?' I mean making running there. By Jove, I never cameacross any one like her!"
Blachland smiled grimly to himself behind a great puff of smoke. He hadgood reason to believe that statement.
"It's a fact," went on Percival. "But I say, old chap, she doesn't seemto fetch you at all. I'm rather glad, of course--in fact, devilishglad. Still, I should have thought she'd be just the sort of womanwho'd appeal to you no end. You must be getting _blase_."
"My dear Percy, a man's idiocies don't stay with him all his life, thankHeaven--though their results are pretty apt to."
"Well, Hilary, I'm mortal glad to have the field clear in this case,because I want you to help me."
"I don't think you need any help. Judging from the very brief period ofobservation vouchsafed to me, the lady herself seems able and willing tohelp you all she knows."
"No, but you don't understand. I mean business here--real serious--"
"Strictly honourable--or--"
The young fellow flushed up.
"If any one else had said that--" he began, indignantly.
"Oh, don't be an ass. You surely don't expect me--me, mind--to cottonto heroics in a matter of this kind. What do you know about the woman?Nothing."
"I don't care about that I can't do without her."
"She can do without you, I expect, eh?"
"She can't. She told me so."
"Did she? Now, Percy, I don't want to hurt your feelings. But how manymen do you suppose she has told the same thing to--in her time?"
"None. Her marriage was only one of convenience. She was forced intoit."
"Of course. They always are. Now, supposing she had told me, forinstance, she couldn't do without me? What then?"
"You? Why, you never set eyes on her till this morning."
"No. Of course not. I was only putting a case. Again, she's ratherolder than you."
"There you're wrong. She's a year or two younger. She told me so."
Blachland, happening to know that she was, in fact, five or six yearsthe young fellow's senior, went on appreciating the humours of thesituation. And really these were great.
"By Jove! Listen!" said the other suddenly, as a chattering andclucking of fowls was audible outside. "There's a jackal or a bushcator something getting at the fowls. They roost in those low trees justoutside. I'll get the gun, and if we put out the light, we may get ashot at him from the window."
"Not much," returned Blachland decisively. "The window's at the head ofmy bed, not yours. I wouldn't have it opened this beastly cold nightfor a great deal. Besides, think what a funk you'd set up among thewomen by banging off a gun at this ungodly hour. The hens must taketheir chance. Now look here, Percy," he went on, speaking earnestly andseriously, "take a word of warning from one who has seen a great dealmore of the world, and the crookedness thereof, than you have, and chuckthis business--for all serious purposes I mean. Have your fun by allmeans--even to a fast and furious flirtation if you're that waydisposed. But--draw the line at that, and draw it hard."
"I wouldn't if I could, and I couldn't if I would. Hilary--we areengaged."
"What?"
The word came with almost a shout. Blachland had sat up in bed and wasstaring at his young kinsman in wild dismay. His pipe had fallen to theground in his amazement over the announcement. "Since when, if it's afair question?" he added, somewhat recovering himself.
"Only this evening. I asked her to marry me and she consented."
"Then you must break it off at once. I tell you this thing can't comeoff, Percy. It simply can't."
"Can't it? But it will. And look here, Hilary, you're a devilish goodchap, and all that--but I'm not precisely under your guardianship, youknow. Nor am I dependent upon anybody. I've got a little of my own,and besides, I can work."
"Oh, you young fool. Go to sleep. You may wake up more sensible," heanswered, not unkindly, and restraining the impulse to tell Percival thetruth then and there, but the thought that restrained him was the cominginterview with Hermia on the morrow. He was naturally reluctant to giveher away unless absolutely necessary, but whatever the result of thatinterview, he would force her to free Percival from her toils. To dohim justice, the idea that such an exposure would involve himself toodid not enter his mind--at least not then.
"I think I will go to sleep, Hilary, as you're so beastlyunsympathetic," answered the younger man good-humouredly. "But as tothe waking up--well, you and I differ as to the meaning of the word`sensible.' Night-night."
And soon a succession of light snores told that he was asleep, probablydreaming blissfully of the crafty and scheming adventuress who hadfastened on to his young life to strangle it at the outset. But HilaryBlachland lay staring into the darkness--thinking, and ever thinking.
"Confound those infernal fowls!" he muttered, as the cackling andclucking, mingled this time with some fluttering, arose outside, soonafter the extinguishing of the light. But the disturbance subsided--nordid it again arise that night, as he lay there, hour after hour,thinking, ever thinking.
The Triumph of Hilary Blachland Page 20