"Why not? You are a kind friend."
"You must not say one word."
"Not say Miss Neville called? The Miss Neville as was going to marry him."
She could have cried aloud at the hurt, and the next moment a cold courage possessed her. "You cannot hurt me like that," she said in a level voice, "and I have done my best to take care of your feelings. True, I am engaged to Mr. Power, and we should have been married had he not become fond of you. I have spent a good many unhappy hours lately, as no doubt you suppose; but no anxieties of my own would have brought me here to haggle and bargain. That might have happened when I lost my head in the beginning; but I have had long enough to look things in the face and accept what must be. Understand me then, I am still fond of Mr. Power in spite of what has happened and I want to do what I can to help. If you have ever loved a man, you will believe me. If you don't know what love is, you will have to think as you like, and I suppose I shall be none the worse or better for the verdict."
"There's others have been in love besides you, Miss Neville. There's others have had their kisses."
"Kisses! I mean something more than kisses.When you are older you won't weigh love by kisses. You will find love grows deeper down than the kisses that stop in the doorway of your mouth. You will find love sending you on errands like this one I am come on to-day, and you will be grateful enough to run them, though all you buy is rudeness and scorn. Love is a queer plant when you sow it properly. It makes shade for some one man, and you find yourself glad to sit in the open and watch it grow. Come, I am talking wildly again."
"Have him if he's to be got. I'm not breaking my heart what comes."
"Don't let us quarrel. I know you've not asked for my visit. I shall be glad enough to find it done; but we have come together, and let us see together a little while. I have made a bad beginning. I meant to speak gently."
Moll Gregory turned away impatiently. It seemed they had come to a deadlock; but help was at hand. There were the sounds of steps, and a man of moulting appearance with tools upon his shoulder came out of the trees towards the hut. He was passing out of their direction, but he threw a glance over his shoulder before going far on the way. He saw them at once, and stopped.
"Hullo, Moll, gel, out of doors? And a visitor, too. Why, it's Miss Neville from Surprise." Hecame across at a clumsy, fawning run. "It's Miss Neville, and I'm very pleased to meet you. You may have heard of me from the old gentleman your father. As nice an old gentleman as one would meet in a day's work. Miss Neville, to be sure, doin' us this honour. Miss Neville come our way." A dirty hand was pushed forward. Gregory began to hump his shoulders, pluck his beard and swell his chest. "Well, Miss Neville, and what can have brought you all this way in the heat?"
"I was passing and thought it looked cool among the trees. But I must be away again. I've rested long enough."
Maud moved towards the horse; but Gregory became more friendly. "You won't be gettin' back yet, Miss Neville? Oh, no, Miss Neville, we can't let you go. The missis is inside there. Moll here can get tea going in a minute. Mother! Are you there?"
The woman came out of the house, and stared in their direction.
"Miss Neville from Surprise has come our way. You can give her a taste of tea, can't yer? Come inside, Miss Neville. Yes, we folk will be in a bad way when we have no seat for Miss Neville. A-haw, haw, haw! A-haw, haw, he, haw!"
"No thanks, I'm sorry. I must be going atonce. If I am round these parts again I won't forget to call and find out who is at home. I must be going at once. I'm sorry to look so rude."
"Come, Miss Neville, it's not many visitors ride our way. We've not much to offer, but its our best when you comes. The show has gone down into a hundred foot of rock, and storekeepers aren't too flash with tick just now. But there's always our best for Miss Neville."
There seemed a press about the horse, but Maud was firm in purpose and mounted. She hated the greedy face of the man. She liked no better the lovely features of the girl. She was in a rage with herself for considering the undertaking. The man and the woman in the doorway of the hut were exchanging glances at her back.
"Good-bye," she said, as she drew together the reins. "You mustn't think me rude, but I have to get along."
She would have walked over the man had he not stepped out of the way.
When the same afternoon had worn to evening, Power rode down to the river. His comings and goings at the hut passed unremarked. Gregory kept always ready his loud welcome, and his wife asked no questions and made no difficulties.
Power arrived every evening at sunset, and spent by the Pool the first hours of dark. For this end he endured the remainder of the day. He walked now on the very bottom of the valley into which he had descended. He rode no more to Surprise, and, calamity on calamity, he was losing Mick O'Neill, his friend. Gloom bestrode a third horse when they rode together on the work of the run, until by one accord they sought each other out as little as need be; and in mute agreement came to visit here, the one when the other should be gone.
The sun had gone down on the edge of the plain when Power reached the Pool. As he entered the trees darkness was falling, and thestars were coming out. When the horse brought him into the clearing the lamplight looked from the doorway of the hut in a broad beam and voices met him from indoors. He tethered the beast in an old place and put the saddle on end at the foot of a tree. Before he had done Moll Gregory was standing in the doorway of the hut.
"Is that you, Jim?"
"Yes, Molly."
He went across to her. Father and mother were within. Gregory swung on his seat in anxious welcome, and the woman nodded good-night. The four of them talked together for a little while.
"Round agen to see us?" cried Gregory. "Been about the run to-day I reckon from the look of you. Hot work moving about in the middle of the day. It don't seem to cool off at night now. The rains must be coming."
"It looks like it," Power answered.
"Have you heard what's happened?" said the woman. "The boss here ran into Mr. King yesterday. Mr. King won't touch the show since it went into the hard stuff, and says the boss owes him twenty quid or something and has a paper to show it." She turned bitterly on Gregory. "You always was a fool rushing to sign things."
"I had to keep going somehow, mother."
Moll raised her head. "I'll fix it, dad, when he's round next."
"I suppose things aren't too good lately?" Power said.
"I reckon they aren't. Since the show turned out a fake, there's not a bob to be raised anywhere. They're turning up tick at the store; too. They growl if you ask for a tin of dog."
"I reckon, Dad, Mr. Power might give us a hand until things was better, if it was put to him," said the woman.
"Is that what you are after?" Power answered.
"A-haw, haw, haw! We wouldn't say no if you made the offer," said Gregory, showing his dirty teeth.
"I'll think about it."
"There's a gentleman for you, mother! Put it here, Mr. Power." Gregory pushed out a dirty hand.
"It's early yet," Power answered from the doorway.
Presently Power and Molly were wandering among the trees—the night fallen upon them, dark, hot and murmurous with tiny voices.
They wandered along old ways, and said again old sayings, and did again old deeds. Who shall answer why she was ready to wander with him night by night through these majestic ways,taking his kisses, lying within his arms, and caring nothing for him? Lips set upon lips—no more could his kisses mean to her. Perhaps she had grown so lonely that she could bid no one begone. Perhaps twenty years of that hot land had set in flames her little heart. Perhaps it was her doom to fan fever and make men mad. Why did he come and come again, a threadbare lover, the despised even of himself? Why was he so unwearying with his embraces, unless it was because he had become an amorous wandering Jew, who had scoffed once at pure lips, and must now kiss for ever, and for ever fail to set passion afire.
They sat down presently on a fallen tree lying among the climbing grasses at the upper end of the Pool. Night by night he and she from their seat there had remarked the margin of the water shrink from them. To-night they sat down again—he to wonder at his madness, she to do a hundred wanton acts—to tease the dog, to toss boughs upon the water and hark to the sudden splash.
"Molly, what did you mean just now when you said you would make things right with Mr. King? Twenty pounds is twenty pounds to him and always will be."
"Aw, I didn't mean much. I know how to fix him. That's all."
"Child, you don't have dealings with him now, do you? You told me you never saw him."
"I can't help it if he comes. He's not this way too often."
"What terms are you on with him? Tell me the truth."
"It's not to do with you, I reckon, what our terms are. I've been kind to you when you asked me."
"You don't understand. All men are not like me. I sit here night by night hanging my hands, too fond of you to do you harm. But other men——. Tell me. I won't be angry. Has he ever persuaded you too far?"
"A gel only lives once. You told me that yourself."
"Molly! If half the world comes knocking on your door must you let them all in?"
"You could have had as much as him. Wake up, Jim. There's news for you."
"I don't feel like news just now."
"We had a stranger round these ways to-day. Guess who."
"I am a poor guesser."
"Guess."
"Man or woman?"
"Woman."
"I don't know a woman to come all this way.Not Mrs. Elliott, forgotten to-night's supper, and climbed on to a horse?"
"Miss Neville."
"Maud!"
"Her."
"Well," he said coldly after a moment. "What have you to tell me?"
"There's nothing to tell. I thought it news for you, that's all."
"She must have ridden this way for a change. She often rides."
"She came to see Moll Gregory, and she saw Moll Gregory."
"What is it you are wanting to tell me? Be quick if you mean to say anything."
"That's not the way to ask for news."
"Very well. We won't discuss her further."
"You and she is too grand for us poor people. She came here on a like high racket to ask me to give you yes or no, and she tells me it's not on her account she's come; but because she is sorry for you. She says if I have loved somebody I'll know what she means. I can count a feller for every feller of hers."
"That's enough."
"What's enough?"
"Enough said. We've talked enough of this."
"Turning sulky now. Miss Neville will be kind to you if you go back."
"Molly, there's a good child, don't tease my temper any more. We'll talk of what you like, but forget this one thing. Why should I say a word in her defence? How does she need it, who is so far from our reach that you can't understand her, and I haven't the skill to price what I have lost? If you want to learn what love is go to her with your lesson books. All I have done has been of no account. You and I, child, could kiss on and on for ever, and with us all the crying lovers who count love a mere spending of kisses; and all those kisses kissed would fly up in the scales when what she had to bring was laid in the other balance."
He fell into a sudden black mood—an evil habit he had learned lately. He remembered he sat upon the fallen tree, and at his feet in the coarse grasses lay the loveliest woman he would ever look upon. The night was shrill with tiny voices, and endless lightnings opened and closed the skies, but for the time these things did not affect him.
It seemed he was coming to the bottom of the cup whose rim his lips had held for so long. The last drops were against his mouth and the sediment was on his tongue. And, lo! it appeared as if some virtue in the sediment quickened the eyesight of the spirit, for at last he could point a finger and saytherewas substance and thereshadow. Lo! what he had once thought substance was now revealed as shadow, and what he had believed shadow was assuredly substance.
He woke up when the child laid a hand in his own. "Say something, Jim, or I am going home." He kissed her very gently and started to talk to her. But from that hour his passion began to die.
November counted away its days, and tramped down the long stairs of Time. At its heels arrived December. Now was Summer at last begun in this far land.
Seven days of every week a fiery sun rolled through a wide, high, empty sky. Seven noons of every week discovered that sun mounting a little higher. All day long the roofs of the iron houses glared across the distance, and the walls answered hot to the touch. But Surprise—and all that lies within its gates—was not dismayed. Evening by evening, when the sun was getting to bed, frowning clouds banked upon the horizon, and Mrs. Boulder, Mrs. Bloxham and Mrs. Niven, gasping in the doorways of their humpies, looked southward and said the rains were coming. And Boulder, Bloxham and Niven put an eye to the roof here, and an eye to the wall there, and thoughtfully picked up hammer and twine. But always in the morning,when the sun rolled out of the East, the least cloud had fled away.
Round went the wheel of affairs at Surprise Valley. The whistle blew shrill at eight o'clock, and the waiting cage emptied the men into the dark ways of their subterranean world. Overhead the women bustled about their doors, and the children, grown a little browner and a little harder, pattered about the burnt places and sent abroad their calls. Mr. Neville, manager, made his tumultuous early round. Mr. Horrington, general agent, made his nine o'clock march to the hotel. The teams groaned in with firewood. The weekly coach rolled in and out again. The same goats examined once more the same thread-bare strips of ground. The same long-tongued curs dropped down in familiar patches of shade.
Early in December Mrs. Selwyn put her foot down finally and to good purpose. She would not be cooped up in this desperate place with a prospect of presently drowning. If Hilton would not come he could stay behind and take the consequences; but she was going by the very next coach. How they would survive the journey in this heat was beyond her powers of comprehension. Landing her here without an idea for getting her away was exactly what Hilton was capable of.
Selwyn bowed to his wife's decision. Here he was, asked to pack up traps for home just as the river was at its lowest and there was some thundering good crocodile shooting to be had. Soft-hearted fool that he was!
As a result there fell about a great packing up of rods and guns, and a strapping of trunks; and a grey December dawn found the Neville homestead up and awake and hard engaged upon the utmost business of departure. A fire kept vigil in the kitchen, conjured there by Mrs. Nankervis who had forsaken bed to speed a favourite guest. There was coffee in the dining-room, and a generous breakfast of bacon and eggs, though Mrs. Selwyn could not touch a thing. Fortunately Selwyn was better able to prepare against the rigours of the day.
Breakfast proved an uneasy meal, disturbed by comings in and goings out, with Selwyn wandering between the window and the table, and Neville strolling round, stick in one hand and coffee cup in the other.
"Well," said Selwyn presently, feeling considerably better now he could boast a decent lining to his stomach, "you people have given us a first-rate time here, and you wouldn't have got rid of me yet had I my way. Gad! I'm a different fellow." He smiled benignly on the assembled company, and presently met Maud'sanswering smile. "Some day we may have the good luck to find the way here again. In any case we are soon to see you down South I hear?"
"I promised to come next month."
"I wish we could tempt you too, Mr. Neville," Mrs. Selwyn said.
"Eh?" said the old man, jerking about. "Thanks, but I've no time to be running round the country."
"Yes," said Selwyn, taking hold of the conversation again. "I think perhaps I shall be wise to have another go of marmalade and toast. There's nothing like starting a journey well supplied. A couple of months back I couldn't touch a thing. Not a thing. Now I feel another man. I——"
"Haven't you a little pity for us at this hour of the morning?" Mrs. Selwyn enquired.
A terrific frown settled on Selwyn's face.
"I was listening," said Maud. "I was very interested."
Selwyn beamed again.
"You had better get on with the toast then," said Neville, "or ye'll be waiting another week. The fellow doesn't like keeping his horses hanging about. He'll be away without you. I may be wrong. Huh, huh!"
Mrs. Selwyn scorned a buggy, and insistedupon walking to the coach. The clock pointed the final minute. Selwyn dodged to the back premises to say his most charming good-bye to Mrs. Nankervis, and with the last hand-shake slipped the smiling sovereign into her clasp. After something of a to-do he brought the dogs round to the front where the rest of the party waited, and they set out upon the journey to the coach. Mr. King had turned a deaf ear to the amours of bed and joined them upon the road; and the company made a bold line advancing across the drowsy distances of Surprise.
Day had arrived, but the sun still delayed its arrival.
"It seems perfectly incredible to be awake in this place and not see the sun," said Mrs. Selwyn.
Selwyn shook his head in deep appreciation of himself. "You had my example."
The day was still in swaddling clothes; but already the men and women of Surprise were waking up. Surly fires were growing here and there. Mrs. Boulder was in time to peer from her doorway at the backs of the retreating company; Mrs. Niven stopped her discourse to Niven as she heard voices across the distance; and Messrs. Bullock and Johnson, who were outside their camps at a morning wash, stayed in the towelling of their faces to view the noblesight. It was the week for the visit of Mr. Pericles Smith, travelling schoolmaster, and his two tents stood erect and stiff by the side of the way. As the party of five marched by, a woman's voice was raised.
"Perry, aren't you very late this morning? There was not a stick of wood chopped last night."
From the other tent came answer: "In one moment, dear."
"Ah, Perry, you are not wasting time at that rubbish, already?"
But this time came only a groan and the sound of someone rising to his feet.
The harmony of excursion was nowise upset until the party had arrived within near view of the hotel, before which stood the ancient coach and the five goose-rumped horses asleep in the traces. Then Selwyn, on the flank, started back. The eyes of all turned to the doorway of the hotel. Mr. Horrington stood upon the step, stick in one hand, empty tobacco pouch in the other—perhaps a little seedy, perhaps a little depressed, because of the early hour; but firm in the intention of giving his friend bon voyage.
Selwyn's hand glided towards a pocket and there found comfort.
"Be Gad!" he said, "I expected to slip tocovert behind his back, and here he is standing at the mouth of the earth."
"You ask for the loan of half-a-crown," said Neville, jerking his head. "He, he! Huh, huh, huh!"
Mr. Horrington lifted his stick in majestic salutation. "You didn't expect me, I dare say. However, I had no intention of letting an old friend slip away without a handshake." He laughed his rusty laugh. He recalled suddenly the empty tobacco pouch in his hand. "Here's the result of coming away in a hurry. I neglected to replenish this morning. Five minutes ago I was thinking of stoking up the first pipe of the day when I saw what had happened. How about the loan of a pipeful? I am always covetous of a dip into your pouch, Mr. Selwyn. Really, I must get the address of your tobacconist before you are off."
Then indeed it seemed that Mr. Horrington led that party of three men through the doorway of the hotel, and later that Mr. Horrington drank three times at the expense of other people. Later still, when the quartette came out into the open, where the sun's rim was climbing over the horizon, it seemed that Selwyn's eye was shining and himself full of a sudden energy, that Mr. King stepped more briskly than washis wont, and that old Neville's laugh was a trifle loud.
Time would not listen to delay, and there arrived the final moments. The Selwyn luggage was strapped secure beside the mail-bags, and Scabbyback and Gripper now found an uncharitable seat atop there. Joe Gantley climbed into the driver's seat and shook the team awake, when they changed to other legs and dropped their heads once more. Mr. Horrington ran his tongue along the edge of his moustache again. Joe Gantley picked up his whip, put it down, picked it up a second time, and gave the signal for passengers to mount.
The company gathered close beside the coach. There arose many exclamations and much shaking of hands. Last thanks were said. Last promises were made. Last advice was given. Mrs. Selwyn mounted without misadventure beside the driver. She still felt most unwell. She did not know whether she was on her crown or her toes. Selwyn took his seat at the end of the room, and discreetly and regretfully elbowed the way into a good position. Everybody gave more last advice. Mrs. Selwyn nodded her head graciously and finally. Selwyn smiled his most charming smile. Maud laughed. Neville chuckled. Mr. Horrington raised his stick augustly. King called out good luck.
Joe Gantley drew the reins together and cracked his whip. The team jerked into wakefulness and fell into their collars. The coach jerked forward. Mrs. Selwyn and Selwyn jerked forward. Scabbyback and Gripper jerked forward. There were a tapping of hoofs and a groaning of wood, and the coach rolled towards Morning Springs.
"Well," said the old man looking after it, "I may be wrong, huh, huh! but I reckon we can get along without them. I may be wrong, huh, huh!"
Such was the manner of the Selwyn going.
Even as the coach rolled over the first mile of the journey, and grew pigmy in the distance so that the loitering dust cloud concealed it—even as it bumped across the outskirts of the camp—the crimson sun cast savage glances across the valley, slashing the iron roofs to life, livening the dingy walls of humpies and tents, and wooing the first flies from sleep. Over all the camp breakfast fires were growing, and men and women moved in and out of doors on the primal matters of the morning.
December, following the teachings of November, began to spend its days, holding them out one by one and tossing them into the mouth of Time. Each day proved a little longer and a little hotter to the people of thatcourageous camp. But though the season drew presently towards the height of the summer, Power found the days too short for the journey to Surprise.
While Maud lived her life at Surprise and gave events into the keeping of Time, Power still rode to Pelican Pool, but his passion was near its end. As his brain cooled, as his malady abated, he comprehended his position with tragic clearness, and saw the high price of what he had thrown away. His wealth was spent on other wares, and he could not hope to buy it again. So be it. He had chosen a bed of thistles because the flower had seemed soft and gracious, and he would lie on it without complaint. And still he rode day by day to the river.
December grew middle-aged, and every sunset painted once more the swelling cloud wrack in the South, until the evening arrived when Mr. Horrington borrowed from the staff messhouse the single boot-last of Surprise, borrowed from the engine driver a piece of leather belting, borrowed from elsewhere a hammer and cobbler's nails, and sat down to re-sole his boots against grievous days.
There dawned at last a day hotter and longer than any the summer yet had sent. With break of morning banks of sullen clouds were rolling out of the South into an empty sky. The sun sulked overhead, showing a fitful fiery face, and the air rose steaming from the ground. Little winds came out of the South, blew brief nervous breaths, and like silly spendthrifts wore themselves to death. Before evening was come, the men and women of Surprise had stood again and again in their doorways to eye the sky, to snuff the air, and to declare the rains must break before morning.
In the teeth of these warnings, when afternoon wore out to evening, and dark came down to shroud the stifled day, when in the high sky not one star could find a porthole to look through, Power rode down to Pelican Pool. Kaloona, as well as Surprise, had read the signs of the heavens, and Power judged the storm would burst before dawn. Dark had fallenhalf-an-hour when he guided his horse among the trees by the river.
He drew rein on the edge of the clearing in the timber, and from his seat in the saddle looked across the open. Through the doorway of the hut, in a long bright beam, the light came to divide the dark. Molly sat upon a box in the doorway against a background of light. Black she seemed, and around her was a radiance of light, and outside the light waited the steaming dark. She sat in a reverie, her elbows on her knees, her chin in her hands, and when the sounds of the horse reached her, she gave no sign other than calling out, "Is that you, Jim?"
"Yes, Molly." Power took the saddle from his horse, and came into the eye of the lamp. The hut was empty when he glanced inside. "Alone to-night, Molly? Are they over at the shaft?"
"No, they went to Surprise this morning. They reckoned to be home by dark. I thought you might be them. Maybe Dad is soaked. Mum takes a drop times, too."
"They had better be back soon if they mean to be back dry. The rains are here at last." A mutter of thunder began very far away. "Listen!"
Power took off his hat and tossed it on thetable in the hut. His dress was a shirt wide open at the neck, and his sleeves were rolled up above his elbows. But the night grew hotter moment by moment. Molly, on the box, kept her chin in her hands and stared out into the dark, and he felt no more talkative than she. He leaned back against the doorpost. As he did so a second mutter of thunder began very far away. The trees were wrapped from sight in the dark. Not one star peered from the sky.
"What's the matter, Molly? Have we left you too long alone? Your little tongue has gone to sleep, thinking there was no more use for it to-night." She did not answer, and he thought she shivered. He bent down this time and spoke sharply. "What's making you shiver, child? You have not a touch of fever, have you? You had better wrap up quick and get away from the open."
"It isn't fever."
Something in her voice made him stoop down until they were face to face. "What's the matter? You are changed to-night."
"Aw, nothing is the matter."
She would not look round, and must stare on into the dark. Power sat on his heels on her right hand. He lit a pipe and waited for the strange mood to pass away. He was damp with perspiration, and the sultriness of the nightrested on him like a weight. Then he heard a voice.
"The old dog died to-day."
"Bluey?"
"Yes, Bluey."
"Bad luck for Bluey. He was very old."
"I reckon I shall miss him."
"Did you bury him?"
"I couldn't find the shovel. I chucked him in the trees over there. Dad can fix him to-morrow."
"Is that what you have been thinking of all to-night?"
She ignored him again. The light from the doorway showed every line of her perfect profile, and by putting out a hand he could have touched the hair lying about her brows. Though he looked upon her beauty every night, he never found it grow less wonderful; but now he discovered with a curious sense of shame that he contemplated it with the calm born of dying passion. He would never see again so rare a work of art as this casket, but alackaday! he had opened the lid, and the delicate thing was empty.
"Jim, I was glad when you came along. It made me feel queer to leave the old dog stretched out over there. Do you reckon it truefolk sometimes feel in their bones what is to happen?"
"What have you got in your head, child?"
"Maybe I am talking moonshine; but I can't get the notion off me that I won't be long following the old dog."
"Don't talk nonsense, Molly."
She shrugged her shoulders in the brief fashion he found so charming. The growl of thunder came a third time from the distance, grumbling louder and enduring longer than the claps which had sounded before, and on the echo of this final rumble a feverish breeze sprang up, and wooed the hair upon her forehead and laid a kind breath against his cheek. Power looked in the track of the storm and saw only the black sky. He began to doubt if the burst would wait for midnight. He wanted to rouse the child into better spirits, but himself must first summon courage to shake off the oppression of the night. Now she was speaking again—to herself as much as to him.
"Maybe it isn't hard to die. The old dog was curled round quiet and easy when I found him. Sometimes when I get fair sick of hearing mum and dad and of doin' the same old things, I think it easier to be dead than to start to-morrow." She broke without warning into low, charming laughter. "When we have sat a few weeksinside there with the rain coming through every crack of the roof and each of us fair tired of looking at the other, we'll reckon it a better game to be dead than alive."
"Wise men say there is another life to be lived when this one is done with, Molly."
"I've heard that story before, Jim. There was a parson round our ways once with a pack-horse. He reckoned there was more business when we had done with this place. I got him talking, for I hadn't seen a feller for a month. But I expect there isn't too much in the tale. What do you think, Mister?"
"Why Mister again?"
"Jim."
"If there is, let us hope we make less muddle of things next time."
"Phew! it's hot. See the lightning. You will have a wet skin to go home in. No, I don't want to die yet. Some things don't happen too bad. I'd be sorry not to ride a horse again or to go fishing or to hear the birds. It isn't too bad of a morning when the sun first comes over the plain, and it isn't too bad to hear the noises in the scrub of a night." She stopped to smile. "And I don't want to say good-bye to you fellows."
"So you like us just a little bit after all?"
For the first time she gave up watching thedark and looked round at him out of grave eyes. He was startled at their solemnity and wondered what she was going to say. She laid a hand upon his arm.
"Jim, you and me are near come to the end of things, aren't we? You aren't always fretting to kiss me now as you was. I reckon soon you will be quite through with me."
"Molly!"
"Yes, it is true."
He said nothing, but presently he moved beside her and put an arm about her. She was staring into the dark again, and he laid his cheek against her cheek, and they looked together in the direction where the storm was rolling up.
"It is time to talk about things, Molly, and there is nobody to disturb us. When the rains come, this riding to and fro will have an end. What is to become of us all—tell me, child? Time never stops, you know. Life never stands still. And it looks, doesn't it, as if a man or woman can never go back, can never stay still even, but must go on? A long while now three men have come day by day to offer you all they have, but not to one of them have you yet nodded your head. I wish time knew how to stand still, so that we could have stayed as we are for ever, as though love like some enchanter had touched us with his wand; but time is in ahurry, and I think at last you must choose one of us and send the others gently about their business. Molly, whisper it. Who is it to be?"
"If you was a girl that lived alone all day with only an old dog as mate, you wouldn't find it easy to shake your head when a man said he liked you. Why are you always thinking and worrying so? Why don't you let things be?"
"It is time, it is not me, who won't let things stand still."
"Jim, talk straight with me. You are through with me, aren't you?"
"Molly, I would ask you to marry me, but I know we wouldn't be happy very long."
He felt her take her cheek away as though he had startled her. Presently, when she spoke, her voice was more gentle than he had ever known it.
"You are a good fellow; but it don't make any difference, nor make me think other of what I know. You have come to the end of me, and it is only because you are a good fellow that you talk of marriage. There's no need to worry over what has gone by. Kisses don't last long after they are kissed, and a girl wouldn't come to much harm with such as you." She laughed again. "Fancy me the wife of the boss of Kaloona. Mum and dad have been rowing me about it since the start. You are a good fellowto come here with a long face and talk about marriage, but you always was a bit soft and none the worse for that."
While she was speaking the breeze wore out in a final timid flutter, and the heat returned to the night, and then, while he sat there acknowledging with a certain grim humour her words left him unmoved, he felt her nestle against him.
"I would not marry you if you wanted, but I will give you a kiss instead, for I know you are a straight fellow, and that is not forgetting what has happened with you and Miss Neville. Come, Mister, look this way."
He bent his head and they kissed where the beam of light clove the dark, and it seemed to him there was less passion and more fondness in that kiss than in all the kisses they had kissed before. Presently he took his lips from hers, and she laid her head upon his shoulder.
"What has made you so kind to-night, Molly?"
He was forgotten again. She was looking into the dark as though her sight pierced it and regarded something beyond. He could see only the outline of her head; but in imagination he looked into her eyes which were sleepy with dreams. A flutter of wind sprang up again in the South—a flash of light opened and shut the heavens—there followed a row-de-dow ofthunder. The sudden commotion no whit disturbed her; but a moment after she was speaking.
"Mister, I've got a queer feeling. It won't let me be. Something is going to happen." She shivered again. "Do you reckon there are things that come and go, and we can't see them?"
"No, silly child. We have behaved badly to you. We left you alone all day, and your little brain, which was not meant for hard thinking, has been run away with by big thoughts. Come, we still have our talk to finish. We are to tell the truth to-night, and the time has come for you to choose one of us. Whisper me the name.... Molly, I am waiting for it.... Molly.... Then I shall have to tell you. Mick is the name that tangles up your tongue."
"Poor Mr. Power."
"I have always known."
"And now you are glad."
"Are you going to marry him, Molly?"
"Some day maybe."
"He is a straight man, child. You couldn't choose a straighter one."
Once more the wind had fluttered itself to death. She lifted her hair from her brows to cool her forehead.
"It will be a real old man storm and the roofisn't too good. Mum and Dad will be at it to-morrow as soon as the rain comes through. See the lightning that time?"
Now, in a mysterious way, the night began to cool, and a rush of wind leapt up and swept towards them from the distance. It broke upon the timbered country with a loud cry, clapping and clashing the boughs together. And presently it plucked at the hair of his head and snatched at the folds of her dress. And then it had swept by, leaving the night cooler for its passage.
"What are you thinking of, Molly?"
"That was how you liked me, and now it has all blown away."
"Don't talk like that."
"When are you going to see Miss Neville?"
"I never see her now. Things have become muddled past straightening out."
"But you will be seeing her soon, I reckon?"
"No. I tried to sit on two stools, and I have fallen between them."
She laughed gently, and put a hand into one of his. "Why are you so stupid sometimes? You are always so fond of questions. It is my turn. Jim, you are in love with Miss Neville, aren't you?"
"Yes, Molly."
"Then what's wrong?"
"A good deal seems to be wrong, child."
"When you sit there with a long face, I can't help teasing you. I reckon you haven't learnt too much about girls yet. There's something I can tell you, and don't frown and scowl at once. Miss Neville was round these ways again this afternoon. Don't look like that, I said."
"Go on, but be kind."
"I won't tell you why she came nor what she said; but I didn't take her up short this time. I was glad to see her, for the old dog dying had made me lonely. When she was going away, she asked if I was marrying you, and I thought to do you a daddy turn at last, for sometimes you are a good fellow. I told her you was through with me, and that you wanted her again only you was too high and mighty to go back. This is straight wire, Jim."
Silence fell between them. All the while now lightning opened and shut the dark, and a grumble of thunder sounded in the sky. Molly was the first to break the spell.
"It's getting late. You had better be making home. The storm will bust soon by looks of things, and you'll be washed off the road."
"I don't like leaving you by yourself."
"You'd better get. Dad and Mum will be back soon."
"Perhaps you are right, Molly."
They rose and walked together to the horse, which he saddled. He did not unhitch the rein from the branch. Instead, he turned and drew Molly close against him.
"I shall never forget you, whatever happens to us. I shall always remember you as something very lovely and evasive. Whenever I see a tree in blossom, I shall think of you with a lantern in your hand. Whenever I see a star fall down the sky, I shall think of the first kiss I gave you. But, child, it is time we gave by our kissing. Your kisses are for someone else, and I must ride my own roads. We shall often see each other again, but this must be our real good-bye."
"Jim!" was all she said, though she leant closer to him.
They kissed their last kiss by the shrunken margin of Pelican Pool. The cloud wrack blotted out the stars; but the trees lifted wide arms above them. They kissed their last kiss in the heat and passion of the young night, while the flying foxes glided on quiet wings over the tree tops, and the insect armies fluttered on their many errands about the dark. As Power felt her lips laid against his own, he experienced a surge of regret and thankfulness—regret for what this summer madness had cost him—thankfulness for the widened vision he hadgained. Presently he took his lips from her lips, and bending again, laid a chaste kiss upon her forehead. Then he had drawn himself from her embrace, and had taken the bridle rein in his hands.
The storm burst in the middle of the night. A rush of wind came with a high call out of the South and tore at the hessian walls of Surprise with multitudinous fingers. It fell with upraised voice upon the timbered country of Pelican Pool and swung together the heads of the trees. It leapt in rage upon the staunch homestead of Kaloona so that the timbers groaned beneath the buffet. There blazed through the dark a sheet of light and the ghost of day stood an instant naked and trembling. There sounded a roar of thunder. And at once the sky was torn from end to end to let down the rains.
The waters struck the iron roofs of Surprise and Kaloona with the shock of a cataract. They flogged the bleached walls of the tents. They lashed the ground, tearing the small stones from the soil. Ever and again lightning ripped in shreds the dark and thunder pealed in the skies. The wind came and went in giant claps.The minutes wore out without any wearying of this rage.
A sheet of water crept about the face of the country, exploring and claiming the hollows of the land. Tiny torrents tumbled wherever the ground was broken. Dry creeks woke to life and swept upon the journey to the river. The grasses were beaten to the ground. The saplings cowered and wrung their limbs. And ever new lightnings tore the dark in pieces, and thunders cracked in the skies; even the voices of drumming waters called in the dark in answer to the shouting of the wind.
The storm thrust a way into the tenderer places of Surprise. It pushed through the patches in the canvas roofs, and crept through the crevices of the walls, streaming across the floors while Mrs. Boulder, Mrs. Niven and Mrs. Bloxham, wakened from sleep, peered upon it from their beds.
Said Mrs. Boulder, putting forth a heavy hand for the matches and nudging Boulder awake. "Stow that, man, and get to it. There's something doing, I reckon."
Mrs. Niven, striking a match upon like scene, lifted up dolorous voice. "Are you never goin' to raise a finger to help me, but'll stay snorin' there till the place falls in atop of us? Therewon't be a dry inch in another half hour, an' not two sticks of wood chopped, I've no doubt."
Over all the camp dismal lights flicker up behind the walls where Bullock, Bloxham and Johnson pass barefooted upon their errands.
At Kaloona the storm lasted through the hours of dark. The rain roared up and down the iron roofs. The lightning flamed outside the windows. The thunder bellowed in the sky. Ever and anon a hurricane of wind clapped hold of the house and shook it, or for an instant the roar of rain died, as though a sudden giant hand had plucked away the heavens. As each blaze of lightning wrenched the landscape from the dark, Power from his standing place by the window, and Mrs. Elliott and Maggie from the security of bed, looked upon a country over which crept a wide reach of water.
Power was considering bed when the storm began and set him thinking of other things. He lit a pipe and stood before the window spectator of events. He stood for a long time without turning round, but left his post presently, picked up the lamp from the table and made the way down a passage. He stopped before a door and hammered upon it until it opened. By the light of the lamp Mrs. Elliott was discovered confronting him, more ample than ever in her widenightgown. He shouted at her above the cry of the rain.
"How are you doing in there? Nothing coming through yet?"
"O.K. to date, Mr. Power. Don't you worry for us. It looks as though the whole place'll bust and go up in a cloud of smoke, don't it?" Mrs. Elliott beamed upon him.
"I'm just round the corner. Call me if you want me." He nodded good-night and the door shut. Back in the sitting-room he put the lamp on the table and took a stand once more by the window.
He gave up all thoughts of bed. The cries of the storm and the lights blazing through the window keyed up his nerves. He became full of fancies of which Molly Gregory was the beginning and the end. He reproached himself for not remaining until the others came back. In the face of this tumult it seemed a brutal thing to have left the child alone. But now the others would be back, and his fancies did no good. Once more repenting the event!
Then his thoughts made their way to Surprise. Was his punishment coming to an end? If he went back and asked forgiveness, would he be forgiven? Molly had told him yes. He had no right to hope for such a thing, yet Maud knew now he loved her. And in truth he loved her ashe had not known how to love a woman a little while ago—loving her body, because it was her body; but counting it of small value beside the spirit. Hope was coming back to him to-night with the reviving influence of a cool wind searching the forehead of a castaway in a desert place.
The door by the verandah steps swung wide open. The storm swept inside the house in a greedy gust. The curtains at the windows were caught up in the air. The light leapt up the chimney of the lamp and went out. He was in the dark. He ran across and pushed the door to. It buffeted him on the shoulder. A glare of lightning lit up the house. He bolted the door, came back and lit the lamp, and wiped the rain off his face.
The endurance of this storm was remarkable. Commonly the rain was spent within an hour and a lull came. If this did not abate the river would be coming down. They were safe up here on the rise, but it was another matter with the hut on Pelican Pool. Every few years there came a flood which covered all that country. Surely Gregory could look after himself. He was a bushman even if he was a fool. What was he—Power—worrying about? He was depressed because he was damp and circulation went down at this time and the jumping lightthrown by the lamp would give any man the blues.
Finally, while Power stood there at odds with himself, the storm ceased as suddenly as it had begun.
The hush following on the heels of the tumult brought him abruptly out of his thoughts. He left the room, pushed open the wire door, and stood upon the verandah steps. The sky was covered with clouds over all its face, causing the night to be pitch dark. The air was very cool. A light wind felt the way hither and thither among the nodding boughs of the saplings; and in all places were countless small voices of dripping waters.
A frog croaked from the direction of the river. A frog replied to it. There followed several croaks, then many croaks. Presently in tens, presently in scores, presently in hundreds were raised the voices of the frogs. The chorus rose up everywhere. A-rrr! A-rrr! Mo-rrr-e! Mo-rrr-e! More water! More water! More water! Then the thunder began again in the South, and the lightning leapt across the dark. The second storm rolled out of the horizon and broke upon the land.
Later on Power found the way to bed; but he slept badly and quite soon it seemed to be morning.
Kaloona household woke up to a cheerless day. In a lull between the storms light crept into the sky. Power from his window, Mrs. Elliott and Maggie from the kitchen, stared upon a strange country. Heaven was choked with frowning clouds looking down upon a broken land. Pools of water filled the depressions. The higher country was beaten and furrowed. Many boughs had been torn from the timber by the river. The saplings bent piteously before the morning wind. Moisture dripped from the leaves down and down until it reached the ground. In all places tiny streams trickled about the country. A thousand small voices of dropping waters murmured in open and hidden places. Louder than the voices of the waters rose the concert of the frogs.
"Meg," said Mrs. Elliott, coming into the damp kitchen first thing, "we'll be drowned yet, mark me, before this is done."
"It don't look too good," said Maggie.
"It don't. There's worse to come," went on Mrs. Elliott, taking a look into the wood box. "What's more, there wouldn't have been a dry stick in the house if that horrid little man had had his way. I don't know what the boss keeps him for."
"The boss himself is got pretty cranky," said Maggie. "It's time he took a pull on himself."
"It is, Meg."
The storms pursued each other from dawn to the middle of the day. In the space of moments the sky would blacken, thunder would peal out and a flare of lightning split the heavens. The rain would drum again on the iron roofs. There fell lulls when Power idled on the verandah looking over the country; but towards noon, when the sky was clear for a space, he picked the way to the stables. The ground was filled with pools of water, and the higher land was a morass. There was a bitterness in the air that persuaded him to keep hands in his pockets. He felt dispirited and on edge.
When he pushed open the stable door Scandalous Jack was fussing round the stalls. The big black horse was in a box, and near it a chestnut horse of O'Neill's. Scandalous Jack stopped working with great readiness and shouted salutations of the day.
"Marnin', gov'nor, and a bad one at that! I reckon we'll be carrying our swags to Surprise this time to-morrow if things don't take a pull. Yer see I kept these two inside. They'll do better in than out, and it will be a fool's game running horses for a bit! The black feller don't look bad, do he?"
"He's pretty well," said Power, looking the black horse over.
"He's that!" shouted Scandalous, "and I was the man to do it. The lip that woman gives at the house would make you think there was nothing to do but run after her. I'll let her have it one day—her, and the gel too, hot and strong."
"Then you are a braver man than I am, Scandalous," Power said, moving on. "Keep the horses in. They may be wanted."
O'Neill kicked his heels in the yards at the back of the stables, pipe in mouth and an expression on his face to match the day. Power nodded.
"Pretty heavy fall," he said. "The river will be down by evening—and pretty big too."
O'Neill shook his head. "Do you reckon they are all right at the Pool? There's times the water fills that channel behind them, you know."
"They are right enough if Gregory knows his business. I've a mind to go across in the afternoon if the weather lifts."
Power glanced overhead. Another storm was spreading across the sky. He started to return to the house. The day was quickly darkening and the prospect looked dismal beyond contemplation. Half-a-dozen unoccupied people loitered in sight, and the single patch of colour was where the gins in brilliant rags smoked in the doorway of their hut. Hewent indoors with the hump. Maggie was laying lunch in the dining-room. "Twelve o'clock?" he asked.
Maggie went out of the room. He fell into contemplation by the window until Mrs. Elliott bustled in on a household errand and brought him to his senses.
"Don't moon about like that," she cried at sight of him. "Get some work to do."
"Find it for me," he said, turning towards her.
Mrs. Elliott confronted him in battle array. "Mr. Power, it's time you took a hold on yourself. This running to and fro every night in the dark isn't no good to you nor to Miss Neville, nor to me for that matter. You'll make a mess o' things soon and I'm old enough to be your mother."
"Perhaps the mess is made."
"Now, Mr. Power, I'm talking straight. Things won't be too mixed to put right if you start now. All men are the same and I know a deal about them. They can get themselves boxed up as easy as sheep in a yard, but they are not so quick at the untangling." Mrs. Elliott came closer and grew confidential. She lifted a fat finger. "And I'll tell you something more, Mr. Power. All gels are much of a kind too. You may have a split with them, but if you goback and drop the soft word into their ears you can get them kind again."
Maggie came in with the dishes, and a moment after the storm burst above the house.
The women went out of the room and he began a solitary meal. The rain flogged the iron roof. Presently Maggie appeared to change the dishes and afterwards he was sitting before the finished meal listening to the tumult and feeling too out of temper to light a pipe. On one thing his mind was made up. He would ride to the Pool in the afternoon if he was washed off the road in the attempt. The river would come down in the evening. The family must be brought back and the world could wag its tongue. He was getting the blues for ever debating on the child's safety.
Without warning the rain was snatched back into the sky. The sudden silence confounded him. Then he threw back his head. Far away rose the voice of tremendous waters. One deep note without rise or fall was being played. He listened with all his might. He could not be mistaken. The river had come down.
He pushed back his chair and got to his feet. The verandah was a few steps away. The storm was hurrying out of the sky and the day had brightened once more. All over the country arose again the gentle melodious cries ofdripping waters. He leant on the rail by the verandah steps. Now the thunder of the river was distinct, and among the trees he saw here and there widening sheets of water. He had not made a mistake.
His depression left him in a moment. He began to think very quickly. The river must have reached the Pool two hours ago. He had never known such a sudden flood. By this time the water would be all over that low country. The Gregorys would be without a home. What if the fellow had proved a fool and taken risks? He must satisfy himself. He must go without delay.
He went inside again. He found his spurs and pulled on an oilskin. Mrs. Elliott came running down the passage.
"The river is down, Mr. Power. A regular old man flood."
He answered walking past her. "I heard it. I shall be away in a minute. I may bring back those people on the river. You had better have something ready."
"Don't dare bring 'em inside the place!" cried Mrs. Elliott, but the door was shut on her words.
As Power left the house a man on horseback was coming through the gate of the homestead paddock. The horse had been pushed to thelimit of its strength. It breathed with sobs and trembled as it walked. The rider rolled in the saddle. Man and beast were plastered with a coat of mud. It covered them from the crown of the man's hat to the hoofs of the horse. Then the rider spat clear his mouth and called out. It was Gregory.
"The river has come down! The gel is drowned!"
Power felt a sudden rage seize him by the throat; but he answered in a level voice. "What's that you say?"
"The river's down. The gel's drowned!"
"What were you doing?"
"I was at Surprise with the missus. We was on a bit of a spree. We wasn't back last night. I rode down an hour since. The river was down then and the hut going to bits. The water had come round the back of the place. There wasn't a sign of the gel. She'd have tried to cross and got washed away. Aw, Gawd, what's to be done?"
"Get out of the way!" Power said. He moved towards the stables at a walk that was becoming a run. Scandalous Jack bobbed about the doorway. "Saddle my horse!" he called out.
Scandalous threw up his head in surprise. "You're not mad enough to——?"
"Saddle that horse!" he shouted. Scandalous bobbed inside.
Power began to call out for O'Neill. The man came out of the doorway of his hut. With common consent they ran towards each other. "Gregory is here. The child is drowned!" The two men began to run faster and towards the stable. "We might be in time. I am going now."
Scandalous was coming out of the stable door with the black horse. It threw its head this way and that, snorting loudly. Scandalous, very full of respect, nursed his corns. Power took the reins. O'Neill was running for a saddle.
"Scandalous, listen to me. The river has come down at Pelican Pool. There's been an accident. Gregory's girl may be drowned. I'm going there now. Send Jackie after the buggy horses. You must bring the buggy as fast as you can. Bring anything useful. Bring some rope. Bring blankets. Bring whisky. Find Jackie now. Jackie!"
He gathered the reins in one hand and put the other on the saddle. The wind arrived and blew his oilskin into the air. The black horse sent a blast from its nostrils and reared high; but as it came to ground he was gaining the saddle. He picked up the stirrups and drew the reins together. The wind was in his face. Far away,but loud, sounded the roar of the river. The beast beneath him reefed at the reins. The small paddock was covered in a score of bounds. He found he must use both hands to check the animal. Pools of water splashed under them and the mud sucked at its hoofs. Clods of earth leapt upon his back. The gate demanded a halt. He pushed open the gate with his foot.
The Pool was distant only a few miles; but travelling was so bad he dared not force the pace. He left the gate wide open, and turned towards the river. He took the reins in both hands. He bent his head a little. A stream of lightning flooded the sky. A rush of wind hit him a buffet in the face. The day began to darken. He felt the animal's mouth with firm hands. It answered the signal.
It plunged away, leaning hard on his hands. It was the most powerful beast he rode, yet he hesitated to give it head. He knew the spur must be used before the end of the journey. The country was a bog. Sheets of shallow water covered the plain. It was a struggle to win a foot of the rough ground. They rode for a spill. Every yard of travelling splashed him to the top of his head. On the higher ground, uncovered by the water, clouts of mud struck him behind.
The day had turned black. Lightning poured out of the clouds. Thunder stamped upon the sky until it trembled. Here and here a starved sapling stood up in the water. There and there a broken tuft of spinifex lifted up its sodden spikes. He looked once over his shoulder to see O'Neill labouring half-a-mile behind. A second rush of wind, fiercer than the first, beat him in the face. The new storm was about to break.
He wondered what he was thinking of, and he found he was not thinking. Instead, he was filled with a grievous sense of tragedy. He was late. Once more he was late. He had left her alone to die.
In the teeth of better judgment he tightened the reins and signalled greater speed. A blaze of lightning tore the sky in half; the thunder shattered overhead and the rains rushed out of the sky. He thought the shock had thrown the beast off its feet. It propped on the instant and swung around. Good luck and skill held him in the saddle. He strove to turn it around, but it would not answer him. His nerves were worn raw and his temper got the better of wisdom. He fell upon it with whip and spur.
It came round at last and began to thrust sideways through the downpour. The rains scourged them. The water leapt from his shoulders back into his face. The landscape wasblotted out. In an instant the lower half of him was wet through. He could not see. He could hear nothing but the rain. He felt the suck and draw of the animal's hoofs as it rolled along. Again and again the lightning thrust its arms about the sky. He rode through the rain-burst for a very long time. Without warning he passed out on the other side. The rain stopped, the storm rolled behind him, the day grew bright again.
He had covered most of the journey. The river was a mile away, but his horse was done. He himself felt dazed and his clothes held him with clammy fingers. The passing of the storm had left the world very still. He rubbed the water from his eyes. Someone was ahead of him. A buggy advanced to the edge of the timbered country. It contained only the driver, who was crouched over the reins. He thought he recognised King.
Something farther away than King arrested his vision. Half of the journey had been made across a sheet of shallow water; but over there, where the higher trees began, the water eddied and tossed, betraying the edge of the river. He looked on the highest flood in his memory. The timber concealed the great body of water; but far away on the other side of the trees climbed the flood. A deep note came across to him; thevoice of the river hurrying to its marriage with the sea.
He did not remember finishing the journey. He bullied a spent horse the rest of the way. After a long time they reached the edge of the timber where a minute or two before the buggy had come to a halt.
He pulled up the horse beside the buggy. Mr. King had got down and was standing in the water. They did not trouble to greet each other, and he thought King looked out of his mind. They stood on the edge of the flood waters. Half-a-mile away the body of the river roared on its journey. In the intervening space the trees stood out of the sluggish water shaking their damaged boughs in the wind. The shaded ways, the quiet places had gone; there was no sign of Pelican Pool.
His breath came back, and with his breath returned his presence of mind. He forgot the man beside him and stared over the ears of the horse. One by one old landmarks were picked up, and at last his eye found the wreckage of the hut. It was a third of the way across the river. The main body of water swept beyond it, but an arm of the river had come in this way. Horror laid a hand upon his heart.
A terrible cry rang out beside him. "My Princess! My Princess!" Mr. King waslooking at the hut. Of a sudden he began running towards it. He ran stumbling a long way and stopped only when the water reached his knees. He threw his arms before him and cried again in the terrible voice: "My Princess! My Princess!" The roar of the river came back in answer.
Power touched the horse with his heel and it began to walk forward through the water. As the depth increased, the beast snorted and threw about its head. They had advanced a little way, when O'Neill overtook them, and the two men moved side by side towards the broken water.
Power believed now Molly Gregory was dead. The child had sat all night in the hut after he had left her listening to the storms breaking outside. No doubt she had been filled with fancies which had mocked at sleep. To-day she had watched the water climbing towards her door with greedy lips. She had fled at last in panic to the land, and the blundering river had seized her in its arms.
He believed she was dead, and here he sat on horseback guiding the beast forward, holding it tight when it stumbled, avoiding the driftwood, and bending his head beneath limbs of trees. She was dead and he moved forward towards the body of the river, while the gentle waves ofthis back channel crept up the legs of his horse so that now they licked its belly. He did this calmly and with a cool brain. Was he over quick at forgetting, or had too much sorrow defeated itself, as one pain is cured by another?