CHAPTER XXTHE PHILTRE"Going to give myself a holiday to-morrow, Ma, and take Miss Innes skating on the Hotwells Lough," said Ninian when they were assembled at their midday dinner. "Isn't that a good plan?"Madam looked furtively first at him then at the girl, as though trying to surprise the expression on both faces. "The question seems to me to be—does Miss Innes think it a good plan?" said she.Olwen thus appealed to was in her usual difficulty. She had learned that Madam did not like her to say "No" to her son's invitations. On the other hand, she was always very careful not to seem anxious to forsake her duties and go off with the young man. It had lately become the rule for them to go out together of an afternoon, since Madam still kept to the house. The skating was, however, to be a whole day's expedition. Added to the girl's doubts as to the propriety of spending so much time in his society, was the distasteful memory of the thing she had found that morning. She was diligently telling herself that it did not matter. Whyshouldit matter? She had never thought highly of Mr. Guyse. The knowledge that he had grossly slurred the truth, if he had not actually lied, in his account to her of what had passed between himself and Miss Martin was simply a conclusive proof that she had been from the first right to distrust him, and that she must revert with him to their former more distant terms, since he might and almost certainly would misinterpret her present attitude of friendliness.Friendliness! Of course it was nothing more. It could not be more.The most cursory consideration of the facts sufficed to show how impossible a thing it was that the impoverished young master of the Pele should contemplate marriage with his mother's companion.Rose Kendall had thirty thousand pounds. Though her first attempt at a reconciliation had been coldly received, it was not likely that it would be her last. She was probably glad that her discarded suitor had not been ready to jump down her throat; but she would not, for that reason, give up hope; and by degrees her efforts must be crowned with success. To put it plainly, the Guyse family could not afford to let thirty thousand pounds go a-begging.This being understood, why should the knowledge of Ninian's treachery to one woman deprive another of a day's pleasure in a life which could not but be described as monotonous?Rather did it insure her safety, since it must harden her heart against the young scamp's nonsense.These considerations all passed through the mind of Madam's companion as she gently replied: "I think the expedition will take too long. We should be too many hours absent.""How did you intend to go, Nin?" asked Madam. "There's nowhere to put up the horse.""I know. But Miss Innes is some walker. My idea is to set out early with a package of sandwiches and drive there, taking Ezra with us to bring the horse back. We will skate for a couple of hours or so—I should think that would be long enough—and then eat our lunch and walk home. It is well inside ten miles, the roads are in good condition, and if we start back about two we should get home to supper.""That sounds feasible," said Madam, "and I could spare Miss Innes if she likes to go."Ninian looked at Olwen, and seeing her hesitation, insinuated what he knew would be an inducement. "The Lough is only about half a mile from the Roman Wall." said he. "There's a mile-castle close by.""Oh! I have always wanted so much to see the Roman Wall!" cried Olwen impetuously."And, please, Teacher, you might continue my education by instructing me a little bit about it," put in the incorrigible meekly."Well, my dear, the decision rests with you," said Madam in an odd voice.Sunia was standing just behind her mistress's chair. As Olwen raised her eyes to answer she encountered the soft gaze of the clear coffee-coloured eyes.She felt inclined to say straight out: "It is of no use your trying to hypnotise me." That being impossible, she merely declared:"I think I must stay at home and go on with my work in the library.""Tell you what it is," said Ninian confidentially to Madam. "She's afraid. She thinks that if she spends a whole day with me she'll succumb to my fascinations; and from the bottom of her school-marm heart she disapproves of me.""Everything is feudal here at the Pele," was Olwen's instant retort. "We even keep a court jester."Madam laughed. "She's a match for you, Ninian.""Is she?" said Ninian, his bold eyes fixed fully upon the girl.Olwen did not change countenance, but she could not meet his look. His previous words had had their intended effect. She was not going to "funk," as she put it to herself."You will have plenty of time for the library; but the frost will not keep," observed Madam."Then if you approve, Madam, I should like to go." Sunia let loose a soft sigh of relief.When Miss Innes entered her room that night she knew by the weird perfume that the ayah had been at her divinations. The little pots stood in the ashes, and a faint blue smoke, fragrant and making a troubling appeal to the emotions, lingered on the air."Oh, Sunia, in mischief again!" said she, laughing, as she came in.Sunia rose, in her lithe, soundless fashion, and stood gazing upon the girl. "Change coming," she murmured. "Change in missee's life. A great change." Her wide eyes were mournful, and she shook her head. "I not see well this night," she remarked; a thing she usually said when her incantations had not shown the desired result She fussed and petted the girl beyond her wont that night, massaging her limbs, rubbing her feet in anticipation of the next day's walk. She liked Olwen's little pink feet, and often spoke in admiration of them. When at last the girl was tucked up in bed, the ayah brought her a glass containing a small draught of pale amber fluid."What's that?" said Olwen sharply."Something ole ayah want missee take," murmured the woman coaxingly. She added that it was a tonic—a strengthening draught which would invigorate her for the morrow's walk. Olwen was very sleepy, and half-hypnotised by her toilet and by the mystic fragrance of the air. Yet the sight of that little draught gave a shock to her pulses and put her on her guard.It was as though something or some one quite near whispered a word in her ear—philtre!Sunia had not said a word about Ninian, but she had seemed depressed, as though she feared that things were not going right. That she should prepare a love potion was by no means unlikely.Not for worlds—not for anything that life might have to offer, would Olwen drink it. Yet she felt that it would be wiser not to refuse it openly."Thanks, ayah dear. Put it there. I am going to read my chapter, and then I will drink it last thing before I go to sleep.""Missee drink it now, I wash the glass.""All right, I will. Get me a clean hanshif, please, out of my drawer—one of those at the back—underneath."The moment the woman's back was turned, as she bent her head to search in the drawer, Olwen took up the glass resolutely. She felt afraid, but knew she had but an instant in which to act. With steady hand she poured the drug away into an earthen vase containing flowers which stood upon her bed table. When Sunia turned, she was holding the empty glass tilted against her lips. The single drop that passed them reminded her of Chartreuse liqueur, which Mr. Holroyd had made her taste one New Year's Eve. It was exquisite, but fiery.When the woman had gone away she slipped out of bed and poured away the tainted water from the flowers.Owing to the nature of the stairs and the difficulty of carrying pails up and down, each room had a kind of sink or semi-circular stone basin in the outer wall for the reception of waste water. This enabled her to dispose of the highly perfumed fluid, and to wash out the vase with disinfectant. This done she lay down in bed, trembling.Why should Sunia wish her to love Ninian? The only answer that rose to her mind was too horrible for her to accept. The ayah had been invariably good to her, invariably respectful. That she should be seeking to compass her downfall was unthinkable. Yet what else could be her object?Olwen knew well that Sunia had the most exalted ideas of the rank and station of her sahib, and of what was due to him in the way of a wife. That she could deliberately wish him to marry his mother's companion was preposterous. Then it must be true that she desired the girl to fall a victim.There came a sense of insecurity—of suspicion—of terror even. There was something uncanny in this place, something unaccountable in these people. She ought not to have remained. She ought to leave. It was no place for her. Curled up in the downy softness of her bed, the firelight flickering upon the thick curtained walls, and on the courses of harsh, savage stone visible above them, she wondered how she dare sleep in such a place. Misgivings thronged upon her mind—the warnings she had received, the way in which Sunia spied upon her. The idea that she was a prisoner in the Pele stole over her—a premonition that, should she try to leave, they would prevent her.After a while calmer thoughts succeeded. Such an idea as her captivity was merely silly. For what reason, what conceivable reason, should the Guyses have designs upon her, a young, harmless, powerless creature; but one, as she reflected with satisfaction, who had a home and relatives to back her.Sunia was perhaps a little cracked, having been born with the traditions of the ayah, trained for generations to wait upon, almost to venerate, the conquering race. In her lonely, dull existence the coming of the young girl had been an event. It might have slightly disturbed her mental balance. Thinking back upon all Ninian's eccentricity, Olwen could not recall a single word, a single look of his which had suggested vicious desires. He had been impertinent, even rude—never offensive in that other sense. He merely laughed at Sunia. Madam also, odd as she was, had never seemed to her to be morally delinquent. Although the confidence between them which her short illness had begun had not continued since she was about again, still Olwen had the impression of friendliness, of some amusement. She thought she could say without conceit that Madam found her likeable.By the time she fell asleep she was reproaching herself with folly. Sunia and Sunia's tricks might be ignored. Ninian had in fact offered to tell the woman to let her alone. She wished she had accepted the offer. Her refusal was based partly upon the feeling that things might be uncomfortable in the house were the ayah her enemy, and partly, she owned it with shame, upon her own pleasure in being waited upon hand and foot. Until this devoted service began she had no idea how much it would appeal to her. So Spartan had been her upbringing that the mere idea of personal attendance had a startling novelty. Now, after one short month, she was beginning to wonder how she would get on without Sunia's ministrations.... Well, she had poured away the philtre! ...... So that was all right! ...She sank away into dreamland.Next morning, when she and young Guyse met in the dining-room for breakfast, his breezy, early morning manner made her ashamed of her over-night panic. Something in Sunia's spells must, she thought, have been responsible for such horrible thoughts.Admitted that Ninian had minimised his own blame-worthiness where Lily Martin was concerned—what had that to do with Olwen Innes? She had assured him that it was no concern of hers.In the days wherein Olwen looked back upon this phase in her life, she wondered that she could have quieted her fears thus easily. At the time there seemed so many other things to think about.Ninian ground her skates beautifully, and as she was particular about this, she had to watch the process. Then there was lunch to pack into his rucksack, her own bad-weather coat to roll up and sling across her back, various small things to arrange, before walking through the courtyard and out across the Bull-drop, to where Ezra stood holding Deloraine's head beside the dogcart.Ezra was told to get up behind, the two young people settled themselves comfortably, and off they spun, due south, striking after a couple of miles a good road leading right across the fells.The gay morning had made them both a little wild. They hardly talked a word of sense all the way to the Lough.Olwen had not expected to find this place so solitary. It was, she thought, the most desolate spot she had ever seen. It lay in the lee of a lofty, almost precipitous crag, standing up from the rolling fells in dark ferocity. No human habitation was in sight anywhere along to the horizon.The road passed within a half-mile of the water, and at the nearest point they stopped, possessed themselves of their skates and their dinner, and dismissed Ezra.The scramble over fawn-coloured tussocks of grass, with muddy ice between, proved enough to warm all their blood. At the Lough's edge Ninian adjusted first her skates, then his own. With a curt order to her to wait till he returned, he went coursing all around the surface of the ice, making sure of its trustworthiness. It was absolutely safe, and he came rushing back, his eyes sparkling with the joy of the rapid motion."Simply great," he said, "come along!"In a moment she was up, and they were off together, hands crossed, feet moving in unison, bodies swaying to the delight of it all. The ice was like black armour, as Olwen said, fantastically smooth, except where at the edges the withered reeds drooped their heads and made it lumpy here and there.They were like a couple of children, playing all kinds of silly tricks. First they wrote each other's names with all kinds of flourishes. Then they did figures of eight, following each other's line of marks within an inch or two. Then rocking turns, and finally waltzing round and round.They had brought sticks with a view to the walk home, and presently Ninian produced a little ball out of his pocket, and they played a kind of hockey.It seemed impossible that the morning should have slipped away so imperceptibly. When Ninian proclaimed it to be lunch-time, Olwen could not believe it.Both were glowing with health and enjoyment as at last they came reluctantly to the edge of the Lough, removed their skates, and looked about for a good place in which to eat their lunch.CHAPTER XXIBY THE LOUGHSIDEThere was nothing within reasonable distance better than the margin of the pool. Ninian spread his thick coat on the ground, and they sat down, glowing with heat, and with appetites sharpened by the keen air."I don't think I ever was so hungry in my life," said Olwen."You look twice as fit as you did when first you came to us," remarked Nin. "A little blue thing you were, with a red nose!""You're too complimentary!""And now you are what Mrs. Mountstewart Jenkinson would call 'a dainty rogue in porcelain.'""What! Have I ceased to be a school-marm and become a rogue?""I think you will, if we come skating often!""And meantime you have left off being a tavern clown and become a court jester!""That's a pretty thing to say!""No worse than you are always saying to me! It's mean to keep on attacking and not allow me to hit back.""Don't you like to be a dainty rogue in porcelain?""I would far rather be a serviceable school-marm.""You have been serviceable," he said, with a sudden change of tone. The change brought her heart unexpectedly into her throat. It sounded as though he were on the verge of becoming sentimental."Well, of course," said she hurriedly, "how could I earn a living if I were not serviceable? By the way, you promised me a sight of the Roman Wall! Where is it! I can't see it anywhere! And what is a mile-castle? Is it so called because it is always a mile away from the place where you happen to be?""The Wall is up on the top of that black cliff," said he, "which latter is known in the neighbourhood as Duke's Crag; but that's supposed to be a corruption of Crag Dhu, the Black Crag. No connection between the Crag and any Duke can be traced.""It wouldn't take us long, would it, to climb up there?" asked the girl. "Is the mile-castle behind?""The mile-castle is in that dip about a quarter of a mile to our right. But you mustn't expect to find either it or the Wall very high, you know. The highest bit of wall remaining isn't more than eight feet, I believe, and none of the mile-castle is much higher than my head.""Do tell me what exactly is a mile-castle?""There was one every mile, that is, every Roman mile, along the wall. It was a little fort in which there was a garrison of about a dozen men. At each quarter of a mile there was a smaller one, big enough to hold two or three, so that they were always near enough to call up their mates in case of a surprise. The mile-castles were usually put just where the lie of the ground needed a little extra protection.""Excellent! This is the young man who was asking for information about the Wall from his teacher!"He chuckled gaily. "Well, I shall be delighted to hear anything you have to say.""Do let us go up and look," said she impulsively. "This is the only chance I shall have——""Go to! Why the only chance?""Oh, because I shall be leaving. It is no use my staying here. There isn't enough to do. I shall give warning, as you call it, next time I get my wages.""Then let us make hay, or—or anything else we want to make, while the sun shines," he returned, rising his lazy length, and stooping to help her to her feet."Can we go right up the rock?" she asked. "It seems a tremendous way round.""Yes, the steep direct way is the best, if you think you can do it. We can use my stick by way of a rope for you to hold on by. Are you likely to turn dizzy?""No, my head's all right.""Then come on, and let's chance it. We must be pretty quick, however, for we have not very much time to spare."The sky was blue, the sun clear above their heads. With their faces set to the northern wall of the cliff they saw nothing of the black clouds behind them.Olwen had never enjoyed anything as she enjoyed that dizzy climb. Ninian left off fooling and became a guide in all respects to be desired—steady, competent, and very strong.She followed his advice exactly, and in what seemed quite a short time he had reached the top, swung himself into a sitting posture on the verge, and reached his arms to raise her to his level.Then, quite suddenly, when she had let go, as he held her suspended at his mercy, he said in a strained voice, unlike his own:"Now say you believe me. Say you trust me! Do you hear? If you don't say so, I am going to let you drop."She was used to him by now, and not at all frightened. "Don't be an idiot," said she with the utmost calm; "put me down.""Not till you say you believe me. Say you are sure that I told you the truth,the real, whole truth, when I told you about me and Lily Martin the other day."His face was close to hers, his eyes looked right into hers. They were anxious, but perfectly clear and bold. She could not meet his glance and tell him that he lied. She tried to jest: "Any Guyse, with green eyes, will tell——"In a moment he had caught her in his left arm, and with his right hand covered her mouth to prevent her completing the quotation."No, don't, for God's sake," he said in agitation which she knew to be real. "Answer me just once, quite straight. Do you think I would tell you a deliberate untruth?""Why should you? Please set me down——""In a moment. This is awfully important. Listen just a second. I have never told you anything yet that isn't—quite—true. Do you believe me?"There was an appeal in his voice that shook her. She knew that the fact that he still held her in the crook of his arm shook her also."I'll—I'll be far likelier to believe if you set me down and don't bully," said she, still struggling for independence.He set her down gently upon the rock at his side. "What a little feather-weight you are," he said absently; then caught himself up with a laugh and a glance of fun. "At it again! But you know you really are! You always remind me of the Duchess in the Browning poem—'I have seen a white crane bigger,—She was the smallest lady alive!'I suppose it is your Welsh blood that makes you so small-boned, isn't it?""Welsh?" said Olwen in surprise. "How do you know that I am Welsh? I never told you!"He coloured suddenly and deeply, and for a moment foundered. "Oh, but didn't you tell Madam? No? Then it must have been your name. Anyone would guess you to be Welsh with such a name as Olwen.""It is rather a give-away," said she, wondering a little it his confusion, but attributing it to his realisation of the fact that his remark amounted to an admission of his having thought a good deal about her. "I'm not so very short," said she with dignity.He had taken out a handkerchief, and was wiping her hands—those hands upon which Sunia bestowed such care—first one and then the other in an absorbed way, as if he disliked the least hint of earth upon them. "You haven't answered me," he said after a minute; "but you do believe me you know, only you don't like to say so.""How many times am I to tell you that I don't have any opinion about you? You're outside my scheme of the universe altogether.""That," said he, as he rose and helped her up, "is the merest piffle, as, of course, you know. Come along if you want to see the old mile-castle. It isn't much to look at. When the weather gets better we'll go to Housesteads, and I'll show you the stone sills of the gateway, worn away with the driving in and out of chariot wheels which were no more than a hoary legend to William the Conqueror's Normans.""Oh, isn't it incredible?" she sighed. "The wonderful world!""Hallo!" said he, stopping abruptly, and shading his eyes with his hand. "Is this a snowstorm that I see before me? Gee whiz, we have got to be quick!""What do you mean? Oh, those clouds? Why, it will be ages before they get anywhere near us.""Don't you be so cock-sure! What a fool I was not to look at the barometer this morning! If I know my weather, it is snowing like Billy-o at this moment in the Cheviots.""Well, I don't know how Billy-o does snow, so I'm not impressed. I see a great broad worm wriggling up over the top of this height, and slithering off down the other side, and I believe, I do believe it is the Wall itself! My Wall!""Oh, Wall, oh, Wall, oh, sweet and lovely Wall!" echoed Nin with a shout of laughter. "Yes, there it is, right enough, and we can run along the top of it if you like."In another few minutes they were both on the top, running fleetly along, and gazing down at the vast natural rampart upon which great Rome founded her artificial one."You'll have to do with the merest peep, my lady, and then I march you off home," cried Nin as they raced along. "What a goat I was to tell you anything about it! There's nothing to see.""Just to set my foot within the threshold and feel like Macaulay's New Zealander on the ruins of London Bridge—'Rome shall perish! Write that word in the blood that she has spilt!'—and now Rome is gone, and we are here.""Yes," he replied, "we're here, and thank God for that!"They paused, for they had reached the small quadrangular enclosure which had once been a mile-castle. Here the proprietors had set up a bit of iron rail, designed probably to deter visitors from the favourite pursuit of walking upon the wall itself—a process leading to gradual disintegration. They let themselves down into the castle, and stood within its boundaries.The site had been carefully excavated, and its dimensions and plan could be clearly seen. It had once been divided, like the upper floors of the Pele, into four small chambers, each about twelve feet square. Its northern face was built against the Wall itself, and there had been a gateway leading through, designed for foot passengers only. On the south side also there had been a doorway, not very wide. In the southwest corner the farmer who now owned it had built up a small shed or shelter, using stones collected from along the Wall, and roofing with corrugated iron.Olwen was anxious to linger and make mind-pictures of the garrison seated round their charcoal brazier, throwing dice, as once they did in Palestine at the foot of the Cross. He began to describe to her the rows of wooden huts and booths which grew up in those old days under the sheltering Wall, forming as it were one long town from east to west."So that one could buy tooth-brushes and writing-paper and, I suppose, postage stamps, without travelling to Hexham or Newcastle," said she mirthfully.Then he glanced once more at the menacing north, and urged her—"Come! For us to-day as for the old legions then, trouble cometh out of the north. Let us get down from these dizzy heights and make our way across the fell to the road. I don't want to be caught by the snow up here."He was turning in a different direction, but she cried out that they had better go down the short way. He hesitated: "It's a bit steep down there for you.""But it's much, much shorter."He admitted it."Then let us scramble down as fast as we can. You go first, and then you can find nice holes for my feet."After a moment's doubt he gave in, and they retraced their steps to the place where they had made the ascent of Duke's Crag. For some way down all went well, though Ninian was a little anxious, having realised, by the slipping of a jutting bit of rock beneath his hand, how keenly the late tremendous frost had acted upon the somewhat loose and scaly surface."Look out, Teacher, it came off in me 'and," said he lightly; and it occurred to Olwen for the first time that she now understood that nervousness always made him flippant.Perhaps her success so far had made the inexperienced girl a little reckless. She set her foot carelessly, the ledge upon which she dropped her weight gave, and she slipped, grasping with a sudden jerk at a projecting lump above her head. The lump detached itself with a crack like a pistol shot, and came down upon her, flinging her upon Ninian, who, just below, had fortunately braced himself firmly to withstand the shock.The loosened rock rushed on, leaping down the slope, and he heard it crash dully upon the ice below."You clumsy little——" he began.Olwen neither moved nor spoke. Her head was hanging over his shoulder, her limbs seemed to trail helplessly."Speak!" he said chokingly. There was no answer.CHAPTER XXIITHE MILE-CASTLEOlwen opened her eyes. She was lying full length upon the ground, and it was very dark. She could smell damp earth, and for a minute she thought she was dead and buried. Her head swam and ached, but she could move her hands, and she began cautiously to feel about her. There was a coat under her, and some kind of pillow supported her head: but she was very cold. She shivered, and felt deadly sick. What had happened?"Mr. Guyse!" she called sharply, and when nobody answered she cried out aloud in terror.All was very still, she could not hear a sound. With a dreadful effort she sat upright, and putting up her hand to her head, found that it was bandaged. So dizzy did the exertion make her that she leaned sideways, unable to sit erect. Her sore head found itself in contact with rough stone. She gasped, in pain and fear—fear of the black, lonely silence. Leaning so, she wept a while, helplessly, then made an attempt to rise, but was forced to lie down again abruptly.A hammer was beating in her brain, thump, thump, thump. It impeded thought. All attempt to remember how she came to be in her present plight failed. With the feeling that she was hopelessly defeated, that she could not struggle with pitiless circumstances, she lay down again and sobbed weakly, the tears rolling down undried, since she had searched her pockets in vain for the handkerchief which should have been there.Just as she was wondering how much longer she could bear her misery, she heard a slight sound, like the lifting of a latch. Then came breathing and a footstep. "Ninian?" she cried, affrighted."All right, I'm here," was the reply, and her relief took the form of a new burst of blinding tears.She heard him moving vaguely, cautiously, but could see nothing. He seemed to be putting something down on the ground. Then she felt him approach. Now he was crouching at her side. There came the scrape of a match, and its flicker showed her his haggard face."Well, you're alive," he said, "and that's something, you know."She struggled to keep back the tears. "Where—where are we?" she managed to articulate. His grin somehow reassured her."Where you were so anxious to find yourself—in the mile-castle," he replied.The match died away, and again utter darkness fell. She had glimpsed the narrow confines of the shelter which covered them."I expect you feel pretty bad?" His voice sounded anxiously beside her."Yes—no. Don't ask me," she sobbed. "I'm such a silly—fool—I can't help it. I'll—stop in a minute.""Of course," he said, "I know. Never mind. We shall do fine. I'm sure I've done the right thing. We're safe inside the only shelter I know of within three miles; but the snow and the dark are both upon us. Poor little girl!""N-never mind. It can't be helped! I shall feel better presently.""Sure thing. Meanwhile——" he had found her hand and held it, "You are as cold as a stone."She shuddered as she answered "Yes.""The trouble is that I can't light a fire. The silly blighter who designed this mansion built it without a chimney. I've been out in search of fuel. No wood to be found, nothing but dead grass, bracken and thorns. It's a bit damp and would smoke us out, I'm afraid, if I ventured to light it.""Oh, but we can go on—soon. When I feel—able.""Nothin' doin'. You could no more walk three miles against this storm than you could fly, in your present plight. And in spite of what I said about your feather-weight, I couldn't carry you—at least not till I've had a good rest. It was as much as I could do to get you up here. I don't know how I did it!""Tell me," she answered faintly; but he replied:"Presently, when you're a bit more recovered. Now I've got a drop of comfort. Sunia put a thermos flask full of hot tea into my rucksack. I am going to give you a cup of that, which will warm you a bit. I have my electric torch in my pocket, but I fear it won't last long. I know it needs recharging. Let me give you a hot drink, cover you up as warmly as I can, and then I'll try and make Wade's road to the south. I might, perhaps, find the Twice-Brewed Inn with luck."She cried out vehemently. "Oh, no, no! I don't think I could bear to be left. Don't go! Don't go! You would not be able to find your way in this storm, and—and if you were lost nobody would ever find me, or know where I am, would they?"He was silent. He knew that for him to wander out into the now impenetrable darkness, with the storm rising every moment, would be a mad venture. He had suggested it half because he thought she might expect it of him, or at least, that she might feel more at ease if he were not there. It was an awkward situation, but fortunately for the man, she left him in no doubt as to her own feelings in the matter. Her hands were clutching his coat, he could feel the rigors that shook her slight body."Don't be angry with me, but you mustn't go! Oh, please don't go unless—unless you think it is horrid of me; do what you yourself think will be best! I don't want to be unrea-rea-reasonable."He took the groping hands and held them firmly. "To tell you the truth," he said quietly, "I believe that the best chance for you and me to come through this night alive is for us to stay together. At least we are in shelter, and if the snow gets piled up around the walls we shall be more sheltered still. We have some wraps, and if two people huddle closely together they are twice as warm as one would be alone.""You r-really think so? You are not s-saying so just to pacify me?""I really think so, you poor kiddie. Now I am going to give you that tea, and we will have a few minutes' light upon the subject."He fixed his torch, and set it down upon the ground while he found his rucksack and took out a cup and the thermos flask. Olwen was so unnerved that he had to hold the cup to her lips; but when once she tasted the tea, its effect was almost instantaneous."Ah, how good! How good!" she murmured. "Now you have some, too.""Oh, I don't want the muck," said he. "Tea's not my line, you know. I wish I had a brandy flask here, though."However, she would not allow him to go without the hot drink he so urgently required. She would take no excuse, and he saw that to refuse would be to distress her cruelly. He made a bargain, however. He would drink if she would eat a sponge cake. To this she agreed, but found she had promised more than she could perform. He was glad to finish a few sandwiches which they had left from lunch, and found himself feeling a little less fagged when he had done so.Their refuge contained nothing except a few sheets of corrugated iron standing up against the wall, one or two hurdles, and a heap of sand in one corner. The sand was dry and soft.The snow without had already stopped the whistling draught which had entered under the door. A hiatus between the walls and the roof let in plenty of air for ventilation. He put on his coat, which he had taken off to cover Olwen when he went out to look for fuel. Then he unrolled her own rain-coat, which had been pillowing her head, and wrapped her in it, taking his own overcoat up from the floor whereon he had spread it. Next he arranged some of the sand as a sitting-place for himself, with the main heap against his left elbow, to serve as a support. On this heap he set his electric torch, within hand's reach. Then he raised the exhausted girl from the ground, and carefully sat down with her in his arms, the arm which pillowed her head resting on the sandbank. He covered her feet with the grass and bracken he had brought in, and drew his own overcoat right over them both. She lay as though in a cradle, and as his back was supported against the wall behind, and he had arranged the hurdles so that his drawn-up knees would not slip, he felt that he could maintain his position for a long time without too much discomfort.She gave a little sighing gasp as he settled her gently in his arms. She had closed her eyes, for her feelings overwhelmed her. He thought her either asleep or unconscious.With a premonition that, as the night wore on, he might need light more than he needed it now, he switched off his torch. The black stillness enfolded the two of them. This time, however, it was not the horrible silence of desertion to Olwen, for she could feel the pumping of that vigorous and healthy organ which Ninian called his heart, very near her own ear.For a considerable while they sat in silence, while by degrees a blessed warmth stole over the shivering girl. There was something most consoling in the close contact. Either the hot tea, or the wrappings, or the current of sympathy flowing between the two, was soothing the pain in her head, and making her feel more like herself. Her voice, coming from the engulfing darkness, made him start."I am remembering," she said. "A bit of rock came down ... and I fell. But we are not down, but up!—I don't understand! How could you possibly get me up here?"He laughed. "Ask me an easier one. I simply don't know. I clung there like a stuck pig for a time, which seemed like an hour to me, with you hanging across my shoulder like a sack of coals. You were completely unconscious, and I was so panic-stricken that I believe I laughed out loud and long. However, after a time it occurred to me that I had better get a move on, and my mind began to work in a funny, jerky fashion. First I thought it would be much easier to get down than up, and instinctively I acted on that belief, and went down a step or two, in order to do which I had to move a little to one side. Then I looked below, and caught a peep of the ice. The rock you sent down had broken it to shivers, just exactly at the place where I should have to step. I know the lake is forty feet deep there, and I thought if you and I dropped in, that would just about finish us. Then I began to calculate the chances of getting to any kind of shelter before it grew dark or the snow came. I couldn't think of any blessed plan. Hotwells Farm is the nearest, and it is three miles if it's a step. All at once I remembered this little cubby hole, and I thought 'If I can only get her there I can at least lay her down while I run and fetch help.'""Oh, I'm so sorry," wailed a sad little voice from the regions of his waistcoat."Why are you sorry? Because I thought of this place?""No, but because it was my fault we went down the cliff. You wanted to go round.""Shucks! How could you know the perishing old rock would punch you on the head? Well, when I thought of this place I saw that it was my one chance; but it meant going up and not down. Then it dawned upon my fuddle brains that I was much nearer the top than the bottom; and looking up from where I then stood I could see, almost as though it had been made on purpose for me, a kind of a goat path, running up sideways. Providentially, you had draped yourself around me just in the handiest way, so I set out ... I tell you it was nasty. I shall be surprised if they give me anything much worse to do in hell than that journey. I had to stop and rearrange myself and you afresh after every step. I had to crawl on hands and knees. I had to keep wiping the perspiration out of my eyes; and the blood from your head kept dripping down on the stones as I crawled and crept, with one arm to steady you and one arm and two legs to haul with. Two or three times I said to myself, 'You're done in at last.' But I wasn't. I got to the top one day, I think it was about two months after I started, and I laid you down."He stopped. His breath was coming very quickly, and the arms that held her under the big coat tightened their grip. "Forgive me," he stammered."Forgive you?" she whispered, faintly interrogative.
CHAPTER XX
THE PHILTRE
"Going to give myself a holiday to-morrow, Ma, and take Miss Innes skating on the Hotwells Lough," said Ninian when they were assembled at their midday dinner. "Isn't that a good plan?"
Madam looked furtively first at him then at the girl, as though trying to surprise the expression on both faces. "The question seems to me to be—does Miss Innes think it a good plan?" said she.
Olwen thus appealed to was in her usual difficulty. She had learned that Madam did not like her to say "No" to her son's invitations. On the other hand, she was always very careful not to seem anxious to forsake her duties and go off with the young man. It had lately become the rule for them to go out together of an afternoon, since Madam still kept to the house. The skating was, however, to be a whole day's expedition. Added to the girl's doubts as to the propriety of spending so much time in his society, was the distasteful memory of the thing she had found that morning. She was diligently telling herself that it did not matter. Whyshouldit matter? She had never thought highly of Mr. Guyse. The knowledge that he had grossly slurred the truth, if he had not actually lied, in his account to her of what had passed between himself and Miss Martin was simply a conclusive proof that she had been from the first right to distrust him, and that she must revert with him to their former more distant terms, since he might and almost certainly would misinterpret her present attitude of friendliness.
Friendliness! Of course it was nothing more. It could not be more.
The most cursory consideration of the facts sufficed to show how impossible a thing it was that the impoverished young master of the Pele should contemplate marriage with his mother's companion.
Rose Kendall had thirty thousand pounds. Though her first attempt at a reconciliation had been coldly received, it was not likely that it would be her last. She was probably glad that her discarded suitor had not been ready to jump down her throat; but she would not, for that reason, give up hope; and by degrees her efforts must be crowned with success. To put it plainly, the Guyse family could not afford to let thirty thousand pounds go a-begging.
This being understood, why should the knowledge of Ninian's treachery to one woman deprive another of a day's pleasure in a life which could not but be described as monotonous?
Rather did it insure her safety, since it must harden her heart against the young scamp's nonsense.
These considerations all passed through the mind of Madam's companion as she gently replied: "I think the expedition will take too long. We should be too many hours absent."
"How did you intend to go, Nin?" asked Madam. "There's nowhere to put up the horse."
"I know. But Miss Innes is some walker. My idea is to set out early with a package of sandwiches and drive there, taking Ezra with us to bring the horse back. We will skate for a couple of hours or so—I should think that would be long enough—and then eat our lunch and walk home. It is well inside ten miles, the roads are in good condition, and if we start back about two we should get home to supper."
"That sounds feasible," said Madam, "and I could spare Miss Innes if she likes to go."
Ninian looked at Olwen, and seeing her hesitation, insinuated what he knew would be an inducement. "The Lough is only about half a mile from the Roman Wall." said he. "There's a mile-castle close by."
"Oh! I have always wanted so much to see the Roman Wall!" cried Olwen impetuously.
"And, please, Teacher, you might continue my education by instructing me a little bit about it," put in the incorrigible meekly.
"Well, my dear, the decision rests with you," said Madam in an odd voice.
Sunia was standing just behind her mistress's chair. As Olwen raised her eyes to answer she encountered the soft gaze of the clear coffee-coloured eyes.
She felt inclined to say straight out: "It is of no use your trying to hypnotise me." That being impossible, she merely declared:
"I think I must stay at home and go on with my work in the library."
"Tell you what it is," said Ninian confidentially to Madam. "She's afraid. She thinks that if she spends a whole day with me she'll succumb to my fascinations; and from the bottom of her school-marm heart she disapproves of me."
"Everything is feudal here at the Pele," was Olwen's instant retort. "We even keep a court jester."
Madam laughed. "She's a match for you, Ninian."
"Is she?" said Ninian, his bold eyes fixed fully upon the girl.
Olwen did not change countenance, but she could not meet his look. His previous words had had their intended effect. She was not going to "funk," as she put it to herself.
"You will have plenty of time for the library; but the frost will not keep," observed Madam.
"Then if you approve, Madam, I should like to go." Sunia let loose a soft sigh of relief.
When Miss Innes entered her room that night she knew by the weird perfume that the ayah had been at her divinations. The little pots stood in the ashes, and a faint blue smoke, fragrant and making a troubling appeal to the emotions, lingered on the air.
"Oh, Sunia, in mischief again!" said she, laughing, as she came in.
Sunia rose, in her lithe, soundless fashion, and stood gazing upon the girl. "Change coming," she murmured. "Change in missee's life. A great change." Her wide eyes were mournful, and she shook her head. "I not see well this night," she remarked; a thing she usually said when her incantations had not shown the desired result She fussed and petted the girl beyond her wont that night, massaging her limbs, rubbing her feet in anticipation of the next day's walk. She liked Olwen's little pink feet, and often spoke in admiration of them. When at last the girl was tucked up in bed, the ayah brought her a glass containing a small draught of pale amber fluid.
"What's that?" said Olwen sharply.
"Something ole ayah want missee take," murmured the woman coaxingly. She added that it was a tonic—a strengthening draught which would invigorate her for the morrow's walk. Olwen was very sleepy, and half-hypnotised by her toilet and by the mystic fragrance of the air. Yet the sight of that little draught gave a shock to her pulses and put her on her guard.
It was as though something or some one quite near whispered a word in her ear—philtre!
Sunia had not said a word about Ninian, but she had seemed depressed, as though she feared that things were not going right. That she should prepare a love potion was by no means unlikely.
Not for worlds—not for anything that life might have to offer, would Olwen drink it. Yet she felt that it would be wiser not to refuse it openly.
"Thanks, ayah dear. Put it there. I am going to read my chapter, and then I will drink it last thing before I go to sleep."
"Missee drink it now, I wash the glass."
"All right, I will. Get me a clean hanshif, please, out of my drawer—one of those at the back—underneath."
The moment the woman's back was turned, as she bent her head to search in the drawer, Olwen took up the glass resolutely. She felt afraid, but knew she had but an instant in which to act. With steady hand she poured the drug away into an earthen vase containing flowers which stood upon her bed table. When Sunia turned, she was holding the empty glass tilted against her lips. The single drop that passed them reminded her of Chartreuse liqueur, which Mr. Holroyd had made her taste one New Year's Eve. It was exquisite, but fiery.
When the woman had gone away she slipped out of bed and poured away the tainted water from the flowers.
Owing to the nature of the stairs and the difficulty of carrying pails up and down, each room had a kind of sink or semi-circular stone basin in the outer wall for the reception of waste water. This enabled her to dispose of the highly perfumed fluid, and to wash out the vase with disinfectant. This done she lay down in bed, trembling.
Why should Sunia wish her to love Ninian? The only answer that rose to her mind was too horrible for her to accept. The ayah had been invariably good to her, invariably respectful. That she should be seeking to compass her downfall was unthinkable. Yet what else could be her object?
Olwen knew well that Sunia had the most exalted ideas of the rank and station of her sahib, and of what was due to him in the way of a wife. That she could deliberately wish him to marry his mother's companion was preposterous. Then it must be true that she desired the girl to fall a victim.
There came a sense of insecurity—of suspicion—of terror even. There was something uncanny in this place, something unaccountable in these people. She ought not to have remained. She ought to leave. It was no place for her. Curled up in the downy softness of her bed, the firelight flickering upon the thick curtained walls, and on the courses of harsh, savage stone visible above them, she wondered how she dare sleep in such a place. Misgivings thronged upon her mind—the warnings she had received, the way in which Sunia spied upon her. The idea that she was a prisoner in the Pele stole over her—a premonition that, should she try to leave, they would prevent her.
After a while calmer thoughts succeeded. Such an idea as her captivity was merely silly. For what reason, what conceivable reason, should the Guyses have designs upon her, a young, harmless, powerless creature; but one, as she reflected with satisfaction, who had a home and relatives to back her.
Sunia was perhaps a little cracked, having been born with the traditions of the ayah, trained for generations to wait upon, almost to venerate, the conquering race. In her lonely, dull existence the coming of the young girl had been an event. It might have slightly disturbed her mental balance. Thinking back upon all Ninian's eccentricity, Olwen could not recall a single word, a single look of his which had suggested vicious desires. He had been impertinent, even rude—never offensive in that other sense. He merely laughed at Sunia. Madam also, odd as she was, had never seemed to her to be morally delinquent. Although the confidence between them which her short illness had begun had not continued since she was about again, still Olwen had the impression of friendliness, of some amusement. She thought she could say without conceit that Madam found her likeable.
By the time she fell asleep she was reproaching herself with folly. Sunia and Sunia's tricks might be ignored. Ninian had in fact offered to tell the woman to let her alone. She wished she had accepted the offer. Her refusal was based partly upon the feeling that things might be uncomfortable in the house were the ayah her enemy, and partly, she owned it with shame, upon her own pleasure in being waited upon hand and foot. Until this devoted service began she had no idea how much it would appeal to her. So Spartan had been her upbringing that the mere idea of personal attendance had a startling novelty. Now, after one short month, she was beginning to wonder how she would get on without Sunia's ministrations.
... Well, she had poured away the philtre! ...
... So that was all right! ...
She sank away into dreamland.
Next morning, when she and young Guyse met in the dining-room for breakfast, his breezy, early morning manner made her ashamed of her over-night panic. Something in Sunia's spells must, she thought, have been responsible for such horrible thoughts.
Admitted that Ninian had minimised his own blame-worthiness where Lily Martin was concerned—what had that to do with Olwen Innes? She had assured him that it was no concern of hers.
In the days wherein Olwen looked back upon this phase in her life, she wondered that she could have quieted her fears thus easily. At the time there seemed so many other things to think about.
Ninian ground her skates beautifully, and as she was particular about this, she had to watch the process. Then there was lunch to pack into his rucksack, her own bad-weather coat to roll up and sling across her back, various small things to arrange, before walking through the courtyard and out across the Bull-drop, to where Ezra stood holding Deloraine's head beside the dogcart.
Ezra was told to get up behind, the two young people settled themselves comfortably, and off they spun, due south, striking after a couple of miles a good road leading right across the fells.
The gay morning had made them both a little wild. They hardly talked a word of sense all the way to the Lough.
Olwen had not expected to find this place so solitary. It was, she thought, the most desolate spot she had ever seen. It lay in the lee of a lofty, almost precipitous crag, standing up from the rolling fells in dark ferocity. No human habitation was in sight anywhere along to the horizon.
The road passed within a half-mile of the water, and at the nearest point they stopped, possessed themselves of their skates and their dinner, and dismissed Ezra.
The scramble over fawn-coloured tussocks of grass, with muddy ice between, proved enough to warm all their blood. At the Lough's edge Ninian adjusted first her skates, then his own. With a curt order to her to wait till he returned, he went coursing all around the surface of the ice, making sure of its trustworthiness. It was absolutely safe, and he came rushing back, his eyes sparkling with the joy of the rapid motion.
"Simply great," he said, "come along!"
In a moment she was up, and they were off together, hands crossed, feet moving in unison, bodies swaying to the delight of it all. The ice was like black armour, as Olwen said, fantastically smooth, except where at the edges the withered reeds drooped their heads and made it lumpy here and there.
They were like a couple of children, playing all kinds of silly tricks. First they wrote each other's names with all kinds of flourishes. Then they did figures of eight, following each other's line of marks within an inch or two. Then rocking turns, and finally waltzing round and round.
They had brought sticks with a view to the walk home, and presently Ninian produced a little ball out of his pocket, and they played a kind of hockey.
It seemed impossible that the morning should have slipped away so imperceptibly. When Ninian proclaimed it to be lunch-time, Olwen could not believe it.
Both were glowing with health and enjoyment as at last they came reluctantly to the edge of the Lough, removed their skates, and looked about for a good place in which to eat their lunch.
CHAPTER XXI
BY THE LOUGHSIDE
There was nothing within reasonable distance better than the margin of the pool. Ninian spread his thick coat on the ground, and they sat down, glowing with heat, and with appetites sharpened by the keen air.
"I don't think I ever was so hungry in my life," said Olwen.
"You look twice as fit as you did when first you came to us," remarked Nin. "A little blue thing you were, with a red nose!"
"You're too complimentary!"
"And now you are what Mrs. Mountstewart Jenkinson would call 'a dainty rogue in porcelain.'"
"What! Have I ceased to be a school-marm and become a rogue?"
"I think you will, if we come skating often!"
"And meantime you have left off being a tavern clown and become a court jester!"
"That's a pretty thing to say!"
"No worse than you are always saying to me! It's mean to keep on attacking and not allow me to hit back."
"Don't you like to be a dainty rogue in porcelain?"
"I would far rather be a serviceable school-marm."
"You have been serviceable," he said, with a sudden change of tone. The change brought her heart unexpectedly into her throat. It sounded as though he were on the verge of becoming sentimental.
"Well, of course," said she hurriedly, "how could I earn a living if I were not serviceable? By the way, you promised me a sight of the Roman Wall! Where is it! I can't see it anywhere! And what is a mile-castle? Is it so called because it is always a mile away from the place where you happen to be?"
"The Wall is up on the top of that black cliff," said he, "which latter is known in the neighbourhood as Duke's Crag; but that's supposed to be a corruption of Crag Dhu, the Black Crag. No connection between the Crag and any Duke can be traced."
"It wouldn't take us long, would it, to climb up there?" asked the girl. "Is the mile-castle behind?"
"The mile-castle is in that dip about a quarter of a mile to our right. But you mustn't expect to find either it or the Wall very high, you know. The highest bit of wall remaining isn't more than eight feet, I believe, and none of the mile-castle is much higher than my head."
"Do tell me what exactly is a mile-castle?"
"There was one every mile, that is, every Roman mile, along the wall. It was a little fort in which there was a garrison of about a dozen men. At each quarter of a mile there was a smaller one, big enough to hold two or three, so that they were always near enough to call up their mates in case of a surprise. The mile-castles were usually put just where the lie of the ground needed a little extra protection."
"Excellent! This is the young man who was asking for information about the Wall from his teacher!"
He chuckled gaily. "Well, I shall be delighted to hear anything you have to say."
"Do let us go up and look," said she impulsively. "This is the only chance I shall have——"
"Go to! Why the only chance?"
"Oh, because I shall be leaving. It is no use my staying here. There isn't enough to do. I shall give warning, as you call it, next time I get my wages."
"Then let us make hay, or—or anything else we want to make, while the sun shines," he returned, rising his lazy length, and stooping to help her to her feet.
"Can we go right up the rock?" she asked. "It seems a tremendous way round."
"Yes, the steep direct way is the best, if you think you can do it. We can use my stick by way of a rope for you to hold on by. Are you likely to turn dizzy?"
"No, my head's all right."
"Then come on, and let's chance it. We must be pretty quick, however, for we have not very much time to spare."
The sky was blue, the sun clear above their heads. With their faces set to the northern wall of the cliff they saw nothing of the black clouds behind them.
Olwen had never enjoyed anything as she enjoyed that dizzy climb. Ninian left off fooling and became a guide in all respects to be desired—steady, competent, and very strong.
She followed his advice exactly, and in what seemed quite a short time he had reached the top, swung himself into a sitting posture on the verge, and reached his arms to raise her to his level.
Then, quite suddenly, when she had let go, as he held her suspended at his mercy, he said in a strained voice, unlike his own:
"Now say you believe me. Say you trust me! Do you hear? If you don't say so, I am going to let you drop."
She was used to him by now, and not at all frightened. "Don't be an idiot," said she with the utmost calm; "put me down."
"Not till you say you believe me. Say you are sure that I told you the truth,the real, whole truth, when I told you about me and Lily Martin the other day."
His face was close to hers, his eyes looked right into hers. They were anxious, but perfectly clear and bold. She could not meet his glance and tell him that he lied. She tried to jest: "Any Guyse, with green eyes, will tell——"
In a moment he had caught her in his left arm, and with his right hand covered her mouth to prevent her completing the quotation.
"No, don't, for God's sake," he said in agitation which she knew to be real. "Answer me just once, quite straight. Do you think I would tell you a deliberate untruth?"
"Why should you? Please set me down——"
"In a moment. This is awfully important. Listen just a second. I have never told you anything yet that isn't—quite—true. Do you believe me?"
There was an appeal in his voice that shook her. She knew that the fact that he still held her in the crook of his arm shook her also.
"I'll—I'll be far likelier to believe if you set me down and don't bully," said she, still struggling for independence.
He set her down gently upon the rock at his side. "What a little feather-weight you are," he said absently; then caught himself up with a laugh and a glance of fun. "At it again! But you know you really are! You always remind me of the Duchess in the Browning poem—
'I have seen a white crane bigger,—She was the smallest lady alive!'
'I have seen a white crane bigger,—She was the smallest lady alive!'
'I have seen a white crane bigger,—
She was the smallest lady alive!'
I suppose it is your Welsh blood that makes you so small-boned, isn't it?"
"Welsh?" said Olwen in surprise. "How do you know that I am Welsh? I never told you!"
He coloured suddenly and deeply, and for a moment foundered. "Oh, but didn't you tell Madam? No? Then it must have been your name. Anyone would guess you to be Welsh with such a name as Olwen."
"It is rather a give-away," said she, wondering a little it his confusion, but attributing it to his realisation of the fact that his remark amounted to an admission of his having thought a good deal about her. "I'm not so very short," said she with dignity.
He had taken out a handkerchief, and was wiping her hands—those hands upon which Sunia bestowed such care—first one and then the other in an absorbed way, as if he disliked the least hint of earth upon them. "You haven't answered me," he said after a minute; "but you do believe me you know, only you don't like to say so."
"How many times am I to tell you that I don't have any opinion about you? You're outside my scheme of the universe altogether."
"That," said he, as he rose and helped her up, "is the merest piffle, as, of course, you know. Come along if you want to see the old mile-castle. It isn't much to look at. When the weather gets better we'll go to Housesteads, and I'll show you the stone sills of the gateway, worn away with the driving in and out of chariot wheels which were no more than a hoary legend to William the Conqueror's Normans."
"Oh, isn't it incredible?" she sighed. "The wonderful world!"
"Hallo!" said he, stopping abruptly, and shading his eyes with his hand. "Is this a snowstorm that I see before me? Gee whiz, we have got to be quick!"
"What do you mean? Oh, those clouds? Why, it will be ages before they get anywhere near us."
"Don't you be so cock-sure! What a fool I was not to look at the barometer this morning! If I know my weather, it is snowing like Billy-o at this moment in the Cheviots."
"Well, I don't know how Billy-o does snow, so I'm not impressed. I see a great broad worm wriggling up over the top of this height, and slithering off down the other side, and I believe, I do believe it is the Wall itself! My Wall!"
"Oh, Wall, oh, Wall, oh, sweet and lovely Wall!" echoed Nin with a shout of laughter. "Yes, there it is, right enough, and we can run along the top of it if you like."
In another few minutes they were both on the top, running fleetly along, and gazing down at the vast natural rampart upon which great Rome founded her artificial one.
"You'll have to do with the merest peep, my lady, and then I march you off home," cried Nin as they raced along. "What a goat I was to tell you anything about it! There's nothing to see."
"Just to set my foot within the threshold and feel like Macaulay's New Zealander on the ruins of London Bridge—'Rome shall perish! Write that word in the blood that she has spilt!'—and now Rome is gone, and we are here."
"Yes," he replied, "we're here, and thank God for that!"
They paused, for they had reached the small quadrangular enclosure which had once been a mile-castle. Here the proprietors had set up a bit of iron rail, designed probably to deter visitors from the favourite pursuit of walking upon the wall itself—a process leading to gradual disintegration. They let themselves down into the castle, and stood within its boundaries.
The site had been carefully excavated, and its dimensions and plan could be clearly seen. It had once been divided, like the upper floors of the Pele, into four small chambers, each about twelve feet square. Its northern face was built against the Wall itself, and there had been a gateway leading through, designed for foot passengers only. On the south side also there had been a doorway, not very wide. In the southwest corner the farmer who now owned it had built up a small shed or shelter, using stones collected from along the Wall, and roofing with corrugated iron.
Olwen was anxious to linger and make mind-pictures of the garrison seated round their charcoal brazier, throwing dice, as once they did in Palestine at the foot of the Cross. He began to describe to her the rows of wooden huts and booths which grew up in those old days under the sheltering Wall, forming as it were one long town from east to west.
"So that one could buy tooth-brushes and writing-paper and, I suppose, postage stamps, without travelling to Hexham or Newcastle," said she mirthfully.
Then he glanced once more at the menacing north, and urged her—
"Come! For us to-day as for the old legions then, trouble cometh out of the north. Let us get down from these dizzy heights and make our way across the fell to the road. I don't want to be caught by the snow up here."
He was turning in a different direction, but she cried out that they had better go down the short way. He hesitated: "It's a bit steep down there for you."
"But it's much, much shorter."
He admitted it.
"Then let us scramble down as fast as we can. You go first, and then you can find nice holes for my feet."
After a moment's doubt he gave in, and they retraced their steps to the place where they had made the ascent of Duke's Crag. For some way down all went well, though Ninian was a little anxious, having realised, by the slipping of a jutting bit of rock beneath his hand, how keenly the late tremendous frost had acted upon the somewhat loose and scaly surface.
"Look out, Teacher, it came off in me 'and," said he lightly; and it occurred to Olwen for the first time that she now understood that nervousness always made him flippant.
Perhaps her success so far had made the inexperienced girl a little reckless. She set her foot carelessly, the ledge upon which she dropped her weight gave, and she slipped, grasping with a sudden jerk at a projecting lump above her head. The lump detached itself with a crack like a pistol shot, and came down upon her, flinging her upon Ninian, who, just below, had fortunately braced himself firmly to withstand the shock.
The loosened rock rushed on, leaping down the slope, and he heard it crash dully upon the ice below.
"You clumsy little——" he began.
Olwen neither moved nor spoke. Her head was hanging over his shoulder, her limbs seemed to trail helplessly.
"Speak!" he said chokingly. There was no answer.
CHAPTER XXII
THE MILE-CASTLE
Olwen opened her eyes. She was lying full length upon the ground, and it was very dark. She could smell damp earth, and for a minute she thought she was dead and buried. Her head swam and ached, but she could move her hands, and she began cautiously to feel about her. There was a coat under her, and some kind of pillow supported her head: but she was very cold. She shivered, and felt deadly sick. What had happened?
"Mr. Guyse!" she called sharply, and when nobody answered she cried out aloud in terror.
All was very still, she could not hear a sound. With a dreadful effort she sat upright, and putting up her hand to her head, found that it was bandaged. So dizzy did the exertion make her that she leaned sideways, unable to sit erect. Her sore head found itself in contact with rough stone. She gasped, in pain and fear—fear of the black, lonely silence. Leaning so, she wept a while, helplessly, then made an attempt to rise, but was forced to lie down again abruptly.
A hammer was beating in her brain, thump, thump, thump. It impeded thought. All attempt to remember how she came to be in her present plight failed. With the feeling that she was hopelessly defeated, that she could not struggle with pitiless circumstances, she lay down again and sobbed weakly, the tears rolling down undried, since she had searched her pockets in vain for the handkerchief which should have been there.
Just as she was wondering how much longer she could bear her misery, she heard a slight sound, like the lifting of a latch. Then came breathing and a footstep. "Ninian?" she cried, affrighted.
"All right, I'm here," was the reply, and her relief took the form of a new burst of blinding tears.
She heard him moving vaguely, cautiously, but could see nothing. He seemed to be putting something down on the ground. Then she felt him approach. Now he was crouching at her side. There came the scrape of a match, and its flicker showed her his haggard face.
"Well, you're alive," he said, "and that's something, you know."
She struggled to keep back the tears. "Where—where are we?" she managed to articulate. His grin somehow reassured her.
"Where you were so anxious to find yourself—in the mile-castle," he replied.
The match died away, and again utter darkness fell. She had glimpsed the narrow confines of the shelter which covered them.
"I expect you feel pretty bad?" His voice sounded anxiously beside her.
"Yes—no. Don't ask me," she sobbed. "I'm such a silly—fool—I can't help it. I'll—stop in a minute."
"Of course," he said, "I know. Never mind. We shall do fine. I'm sure I've done the right thing. We're safe inside the only shelter I know of within three miles; but the snow and the dark are both upon us. Poor little girl!"
"N-never mind. It can't be helped! I shall feel better presently."
"Sure thing. Meanwhile——" he had found her hand and held it, "You are as cold as a stone."
She shuddered as she answered "Yes."
"The trouble is that I can't light a fire. The silly blighter who designed this mansion built it without a chimney. I've been out in search of fuel. No wood to be found, nothing but dead grass, bracken and thorns. It's a bit damp and would smoke us out, I'm afraid, if I ventured to light it."
"Oh, but we can go on—soon. When I feel—able."
"Nothin' doin'. You could no more walk three miles against this storm than you could fly, in your present plight. And in spite of what I said about your feather-weight, I couldn't carry you—at least not till I've had a good rest. It was as much as I could do to get you up here. I don't know how I did it!"
"Tell me," she answered faintly; but he replied:
"Presently, when you're a bit more recovered. Now I've got a drop of comfort. Sunia put a thermos flask full of hot tea into my rucksack. I am going to give you a cup of that, which will warm you a bit. I have my electric torch in my pocket, but I fear it won't last long. I know it needs recharging. Let me give you a hot drink, cover you up as warmly as I can, and then I'll try and make Wade's road to the south. I might, perhaps, find the Twice-Brewed Inn with luck."
She cried out vehemently. "Oh, no, no! I don't think I could bear to be left. Don't go! Don't go! You would not be able to find your way in this storm, and—and if you were lost nobody would ever find me, or know where I am, would they?"
He was silent. He knew that for him to wander out into the now impenetrable darkness, with the storm rising every moment, would be a mad venture. He had suggested it half because he thought she might expect it of him, or at least, that she might feel more at ease if he were not there. It was an awkward situation, but fortunately for the man, she left him in no doubt as to her own feelings in the matter. Her hands were clutching his coat, he could feel the rigors that shook her slight body.
"Don't be angry with me, but you mustn't go! Oh, please don't go unless—unless you think it is horrid of me; do what you yourself think will be best! I don't want to be unrea-rea-reasonable."
He took the groping hands and held them firmly. "To tell you the truth," he said quietly, "I believe that the best chance for you and me to come through this night alive is for us to stay together. At least we are in shelter, and if the snow gets piled up around the walls we shall be more sheltered still. We have some wraps, and if two people huddle closely together they are twice as warm as one would be alone."
"You r-really think so? You are not s-saying so just to pacify me?"
"I really think so, you poor kiddie. Now I am going to give you that tea, and we will have a few minutes' light upon the subject."
He fixed his torch, and set it down upon the ground while he found his rucksack and took out a cup and the thermos flask. Olwen was so unnerved that he had to hold the cup to her lips; but when once she tasted the tea, its effect was almost instantaneous.
"Ah, how good! How good!" she murmured. "Now you have some, too."
"Oh, I don't want the muck," said he. "Tea's not my line, you know. I wish I had a brandy flask here, though."
However, she would not allow him to go without the hot drink he so urgently required. She would take no excuse, and he saw that to refuse would be to distress her cruelly. He made a bargain, however. He would drink if she would eat a sponge cake. To this she agreed, but found she had promised more than she could perform. He was glad to finish a few sandwiches which they had left from lunch, and found himself feeling a little less fagged when he had done so.
Their refuge contained nothing except a few sheets of corrugated iron standing up against the wall, one or two hurdles, and a heap of sand in one corner. The sand was dry and soft.
The snow without had already stopped the whistling draught which had entered under the door. A hiatus between the walls and the roof let in plenty of air for ventilation. He put on his coat, which he had taken off to cover Olwen when he went out to look for fuel. Then he unrolled her own rain-coat, which had been pillowing her head, and wrapped her in it, taking his own overcoat up from the floor whereon he had spread it. Next he arranged some of the sand as a sitting-place for himself, with the main heap against his left elbow, to serve as a support. On this heap he set his electric torch, within hand's reach. Then he raised the exhausted girl from the ground, and carefully sat down with her in his arms, the arm which pillowed her head resting on the sandbank. He covered her feet with the grass and bracken he had brought in, and drew his own overcoat right over them both. She lay as though in a cradle, and as his back was supported against the wall behind, and he had arranged the hurdles so that his drawn-up knees would not slip, he felt that he could maintain his position for a long time without too much discomfort.
She gave a little sighing gasp as he settled her gently in his arms. She had closed her eyes, for her feelings overwhelmed her. He thought her either asleep or unconscious.
With a premonition that, as the night wore on, he might need light more than he needed it now, he switched off his torch. The black stillness enfolded the two of them. This time, however, it was not the horrible silence of desertion to Olwen, for she could feel the pumping of that vigorous and healthy organ which Ninian called his heart, very near her own ear.
For a considerable while they sat in silence, while by degrees a blessed warmth stole over the shivering girl. There was something most consoling in the close contact. Either the hot tea, or the wrappings, or the current of sympathy flowing between the two, was soothing the pain in her head, and making her feel more like herself. Her voice, coming from the engulfing darkness, made him start.
"I am remembering," she said. "A bit of rock came down ... and I fell. But we are not down, but up!—I don't understand! How could you possibly get me up here?"
He laughed. "Ask me an easier one. I simply don't know. I clung there like a stuck pig for a time, which seemed like an hour to me, with you hanging across my shoulder like a sack of coals. You were completely unconscious, and I was so panic-stricken that I believe I laughed out loud and long. However, after a time it occurred to me that I had better get a move on, and my mind began to work in a funny, jerky fashion. First I thought it would be much easier to get down than up, and instinctively I acted on that belief, and went down a step or two, in order to do which I had to move a little to one side. Then I looked below, and caught a peep of the ice. The rock you sent down had broken it to shivers, just exactly at the place where I should have to step. I know the lake is forty feet deep there, and I thought if you and I dropped in, that would just about finish us. Then I began to calculate the chances of getting to any kind of shelter before it grew dark or the snow came. I couldn't think of any blessed plan. Hotwells Farm is the nearest, and it is three miles if it's a step. All at once I remembered this little cubby hole, and I thought 'If I can only get her there I can at least lay her down while I run and fetch help.'"
"Oh, I'm so sorry," wailed a sad little voice from the regions of his waistcoat.
"Why are you sorry? Because I thought of this place?"
"No, but because it was my fault we went down the cliff. You wanted to go round."
"Shucks! How could you know the perishing old rock would punch you on the head? Well, when I thought of this place I saw that it was my one chance; but it meant going up and not down. Then it dawned upon my fuddle brains that I was much nearer the top than the bottom; and looking up from where I then stood I could see, almost as though it had been made on purpose for me, a kind of a goat path, running up sideways. Providentially, you had draped yourself around me just in the handiest way, so I set out ... I tell you it was nasty. I shall be surprised if they give me anything much worse to do in hell than that journey. I had to stop and rearrange myself and you afresh after every step. I had to crawl on hands and knees. I had to keep wiping the perspiration out of my eyes; and the blood from your head kept dripping down on the stones as I crawled and crept, with one arm to steady you and one arm and two legs to haul with. Two or three times I said to myself, 'You're done in at last.' But I wasn't. I got to the top one day, I think it was about two months after I started, and I laid you down."
He stopped. His breath was coming very quickly, and the arms that held her under the big coat tightened their grip. "Forgive me," he stammered.
"Forgive you?" she whispered, faintly interrogative.