CHAPTER IV
When Elsie came to breakfast on the morning that Alec had so hurriedly left Borombyee, she was white as a sheet; all her vivacity was gone. Her father looked at her inquiringly.
"I have a headache, father, and could not sleep; that's all."
Maggie came flying in, with her hair tossing over her eyes. "What do you think?" she said; "Alec's horse is gone! he must have ridden away!"
"What! how's this?" said her father.
"I can only suppose," said Maggie, "that his toothache is worse, and he could not bear to stay to breakfast, so he went away."
Elsie looked into her plate, and said nothing; Maggie's words stabbed her like a knife, and cut her to the quick. She knew that Alec's pain was deeper seated than a tooth nerve. Her own feelings at this moment told her how acutely he must have felt. She blamed herself entirely. She had not known what she was doing; she was mad to act as she had done; she had behaved abominably; her sin had found her out.
Bond was full of sympathy, and said he was sorry and hoped the headache would soon go. A cup of tea would do her good; then a rest in a dark room. He had never known what a headache was, but could feel for others, especially for Elsie. Yes, he was very sorry. Could he send her some smelling-salts, or anything else, from Mountfield. He would ride there and back in four hours. No, Elsie did not need anything; rest would do her good. She drank some tea, then went to her room and lay down.
She heard her father and Bond ride away; then she rose and went to the hut, where she found Pat.
"Pat, please get my horse in, saddle him, and bring him to the door."
"Sure, Miss Elsie! it's a gallop over the hills and far away that'll make the roses bloom on ye'r cheeks. Faix, Miss! ye're loike a wax image o' the Blessed Vargin."
"Thank you, Pat."
She went to her room, put on her riding habit, then found Maggie and told her she was going for a gallop, as she did not feel well.
"Let me go with you, Elsie. I'll be company for you. It is so lonely to go by yourself. I don't like you to go alone."
"No, Maggie, I will go alone, and see whether I cannot shake off my headache. I would be no company for you. I would make you miserable. Besides, if father comes home to lunch he would miss you; one of us must stay at home."
"Very well, Elsie; but do not stay long."
Maggie did not like to see her sister go away alone. She felt that the headache was an excuse, and that there was deeper trouble. She was so sorry for her, and wished she could help her. If she could only send a message to Alec and bring him back, all would be well. She knew instinctively that Elsie and Alec loved each other, but were at cross purposes somehow. A word on either side would set things right. But how was it to be said? She did not know.
Pat brought the horse to the end of the verandah, and Elsie jumped on, with the help of a block of wood, which stood there for the purpose. Maggie held her sister's hand caressingly, and said, with a tear in her eye, "Come back soon, Elsie; I shall be wearying for you till I see you."
Elsie went across the flat, over the bridge, and up the ranges. The breeze was cool and strong. She felt better already. The rapid motion banished thinking, but when she got to the steeper hills she fell back on her troubles again. Higher and higher she went, until she came to big boulders, fern-trees, and scrub. It was difficult to go up, but how would she get down again? She did not care. Up! up! away! as near the throne as she could, to pour out her soul to her Heavenly Father, and tell Him her trouble, and confess her fault.
At last, after the horse had scrambled and struggled by zigzag ways up some of the roughest hills of Victoria, he stopped, fairly exhausted, on a small tableland, surrounded by great rocks, some flat, some piled in huge fantastic shapes, like ancient ruins, with spaces left for doors and windows. To the south there was a gigantic valley, and all round the hillsides were masses of stone, which had evidently been carried there in icebergs in some forgotten age, and stranded on this high sea beach. Stunted shrubs and wild oats drew a scanty subsistence here. A dingo was playing with her cubs at the mouth of her lair, unconscious of human presence; a tiger-snake was sunning itself on a mossy stone; lizards were darting to and fro; an eagle was wheeling in mid-air over its nest of ragged sticks in a shattered tree that had braved many a storm; and white clouds came flying past like ships in full sail.
Elsie noted all these things as the horse stood motionless for ten minutes. She urged him to go on, but he refused to move. She coaxed and petted him, but he would not make a step forward.
"Poor fellow!" she said, "I have pushed you too hard; I was not thinking where we were going; a climb like this was too much for you; I'll give you a rest."
She jumped off his back, and tied the reins to the stirrups. He then began to nibble at the short, dry tufts of grass which shot up in hollow spots where drops of moisture had oozed out.
Elsie threw herself down on a flat rock, and buried her face in her hands, weeping bitterly, and reproaching herself for driving Alec away while she had loved him all the time so much and so deeply. She would give her life to be reconciled—just to be able to meet him face to face and say, "Alec, forgive me!" Then she would willingly die. But to have no chance of telling him, to have no opportunity of asking his forgiveness, was more than she could bear. Oh, the agony of it all! Oh, how she had been punished for her heartless conduct! "Oh!" she cried, "winds and clouds and birds, carry a message to him, and tell him to come back, because I love him!"
Then she prayed, as she had never prayed before, and asked to be led and guided. For answer, a great peace filled her soul, and she seemed to hear the words, "Come unto Me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."
She sank back exhausted, and fainted away. How long she lay thus she never knew, but when she came to consciousness she was content to doze, or dream, or sleep for hours. When she came to herself the stars were shining and the moon was climbing the hills. She jumped up in alarm, and tried to walk to where she had last seen the horse. She thought if she could only get on his back, he would be able to find his way home. She felt weak, and stumbled among the rocks with tottering, uncertain steps. She could not see the horse anywhere. He had evidently got tired of waiting for her, and had wandered away, or had gone to his accustomed paddock at the homestead.