CHAPTER II
Alec, having lit a match, found the bed, table, stool, and candlestick as Elisha did in Shunem. He sat down to think. Yes, Elsie was a flirt, and had cruelly slighted him. He had done nothing to deserve such treatment. A girl who could act as she had done was not deserving of the love of any man. There was a false note in her character somewhere, and she could not be the true and gentle girl he had fondly imagined. To be warned in time was lucky, for to be tied to such a woman was not good. Better to be free than bound by a chain; and so on his thoughts ran, shooting hither and thither with the speed of summer lightning.
How long he sat thus he could not tell. An opossum called to its mate in the gum-tree that overhung the room. The "swish, swish" of a native cat came from under the floor. A koala, or native bear, roared from the clump of timber near the creek. A dingo howled on the hills, and a hawk wheeled overhead. One of these sounds made him start to his feet. The candle was burning low.
A bell rang. It was ten o'clock, the hour for "worship." He could hear McLean clearing his throat in the dining-room, which was only separated by a thin wooden partition from the "prophet's chamber." Then he heard Elsie's light step, but thought it sounded sad and slow; then came Bond's hateful creaking boots; then Maggie's quiet tread. Aggie came from the kitchen, three men from the hut, and Pat, though a Roman Catholic, came too, "to plase Miss Elsie. An' sure," he used to say, "there's no praste widdin fifty moiles to give a curse to me sowl, pinnance to me body, an' a hole in a big cheque to pay for absolution from the sin av it."
When they had all sat down McLean opened the big family Bible, apparently at random (but with intention, as he had been studying the passage) at the twelfth chapter of the Book of the Revelation. He read, with a deep, sonorous voice, to the end; then gave a long sigh, and plunged into a commentary on the "great red dragon," which he said was the Roman Catholic Church. He proved this, to his own satisfaction, seeing she had shed the blood of saints and prophets, and that the popes, cardinals, priests, and all who had the "mark of the beast" upon them, were to be thrown into the bottomless pit. He drew a gruesome picture of their writhing and torments in the true Calvinistic fashion of forty years ago.
"Holy Moses!" said Pat in a loud aside. "The saints defind us!"
Elsie nudged her father's arm, but he would not stop, for he had got on his favourite topic—the one subject on which he could be loquacious.
Pat could not sit still another moment. He glared at McLean, and made a gesture as if he would like to throttle him; then, apparently thinking better of it, jumped up, threw down his chair with a clatter, flung open the front door, and stamped up and down the verandah, vowing vengeance.
Alec had heard everything. He had forgotten his troubles. He laughed and rubbed his hands, and even capered about the room. It was all so ludicrous and absurd, and he had to let off the steam by rolling on the floor for a minute or two.
Some one knocked at the door, and he called out, "Who's there?"
"It's me, sor."
"Well, Pat, what's the matter?"
"Fwat's the matter? Everythin's the matter! I'm goin' to brek every bone av' the boss's body before I say me prayers to the Vargin this blessed noight!"
"Whist! I'll come out to you, Pat."
"Do, sor."
When Alec came out, he said: "Not a word here. Come to the hut, and tell me all about it. What is the matter?" He pulled Pat away by sheer force to the hut, and pushed him into a seat.
"Now what is it?" he said.
Pat told him what had happened, in his rich oily brogue, and with such queer antics and gestures, Alec could not help going off again into a fit of laughter.
"You'll be the death of me, Pat, if you say another word. It's too funny!"
"I'll be the death of ould McLean, the bitter, black, Presbyterian divil's own favourite son. Och! he'll be roasted for this loike a herrin' on a gridiron! Och! the divil will toast him on a pitchfark. He'll be basted an' hauled over the fire till he roars blue murther! Och! the thafe! I shpit upon yees as I would upon Judas who was wan o' the same kidney!"
"Here, Pat," said Alec, "is half a sovereign for you; don't say another word about it."
Pat winked, and pocketed the money.
"Spache is silver, an' silence is goolden. Mum's the wurrd. Love ye're inimy is a goolden rule. I'll obsarve that same, as I've got the Queen's countenance for it in me pocket."
He seized a stick which was lying in a corner, whirled it round his head three times, and brought it down with a whack on the table.
"What's that for, Pat?"
"That's wan for me inimy. It's that same he'd be afther havin' if yees hadn't intervaned wid de gospel av paice. Sure, I repinted av takin' de money, so I let de divil go out av me through de shtick. I feel betther after that, bedad!"
"Well, go to bed, Pat. I hear the men coming." So saying, Alec slipped out of the door, and crept under cover of the shadows, until he reached the back of the house; then he paused to listen. On tiptoe he reached the "prophet's chamber," went in and shut the door, then flung himself on the bed. He had been a fool he thought. He should not have allowed Elsie to see that he cared one jot whether she showed attentions to Bond or not. But why should she so markedly slight himself? He could not understand this, unless she had wished to make him jealous, or unless she was a flirt, and deliberately flung away one who loved her, for a brief amusement, pour passer le temp. In this case she was cruel and heartless. Unless he had seen her conduct he could not have believed she would have acted as she did.
What was to be done now? He could not face Elsie and Bond next morning. He could not endure to meet them at breakfast. The air was full of electricity. The explosives were stored, the train was laid, and a chance spark might cause a blow-up which he would ever regret. He felt like a volcano which might burst forth at any moment. Discretion is the better part of valour; he would cool down before morning perhaps.
He heard low voices in the dining-room.
"Good night, Mr. Bond," said Elsie.
"Good night," said Bond.
Alec heard her footsteps and the shutting of her door.
"Good night, Mr. McLean," said Bond.
McLean shook hands in silence, and both men went to their respective rooms.
Alec peeped out of his window, and saw a light in Elsie's room, which was only a few feet away. If he could have seen her at that moment, he would have perceived her lying on the bed, with her face buried in the pillow, and sobbing bitterly.
She had discovered she had treated Alec badly, and was afraid she had done irreparable mischief. She felt as if she could almost go down on her knees and ask his forgiveness. She saw what a mistake she had made, but it was made on the impulse of the moment, and her pride would not allow her to acknowledge it, by word or look, until it was too late; but in the morning she would make amends for the temporary eclipse by shining all the brighter when she saw him, and, poor fellow! he had toothache too! She was so sorry! She had arranged everything in her own mind. There would be no more unhappiness between them. Then she went to bed and was soon fast asleep.
Alec saw that her light was out. "Heartless!" he said, "and here am I tossing undressed upon my bed, a prey to unrequited love, and torn by a thousand bitter thoughts, vainly regretting what might have been. It is all over. There is no more happiness for me in this world. Love is dead."
He lay for hours rolling from side to side, and felt as if sleep had fled for ever. He could not close his eyes, and he longed for daylight that he might get up and ride away from this now hateful spot. The sight of Bond would madden him; better they should never meet.
He could endure his thoughts no longer. They were fevering his blood, parching his tongue, and setting his brain on fire. He jumped up, put on his hat, and let himself out by the window, which was wide open, as he feared the door would make a noise if he attempted to leave by it.
He felt better now. The morning air cooled his cheek; the fresh breeze chased away his distempered fancies.
He went quietly to the stable. No dog barked, for they all knew who was moving so stealthily. A faint flush was tinting Pepper Hill. The rosy dawn would soon outline the picture, and colour hill and vale with a flowing brush.
He saddled his horse and led him out, then mounted, and rode slowly away.
The soft footfall of a horse awoke Elsie. She started up in alarm, and looked out. What she almost feared had come to pass. In the dim light she saw Alec riding away. She had mortally offended him. She would never see him again. The dream of love was ended. She dropped on the bed, and gave way to a paroxysm of weeping.