CHAPTER LVI
THE EAGLE SOARS
Night and a running stream—a soft gurgle of sound that was like a lullaby. Within the tent the quiet breathing of a man asleep; standing in the entrance—a woman.
There was a faint quiver in the air as of something coming from afar, a hushed expectancy of something great. A chill breath came off the snows, hovering secretly above the ice-cold water. The stars glittered like loose-hung jewels upon a sable robe.
Ah, that flash as of a sword across the sky! A meteor had fallen among the mountains. It was almost like a signal in the heavens—herald of the coming wonder of the dawn.
Softly the watcher turned inwards, and at once a gay, cracked voice spoke out of the darkness.
"Hullo, darling! Up and watching already! Ye gods! What a sky! Why didn't you wake me sooner? Have I time for a plunge?"
"Perhaps—if you will let me help you dress after it. Certainly not otherwise." The deep voice had in it a tremulous note that was like a caress. The speaker was looking into the shadows. The glory without no longer held her.
"All right then, you shall—just for a treat. Perhaps you would like to shave me as well?"
"Shave you!" There was scorn this time in the answering voice. "You couldn't grow a single hair if you tried!"
"True, O Queen! I couldn't. And the few I was born with are invisible. Hence my failure to distinguish myself in the Army. It is to be hoped the deficiency will not blight my Parliamentary career also—always supposing I get there."
"Ah, but you did distinguish yourself. I heard—once"—the words came with slight hesitation—"that you ought to have had the V.C. after the Wara expedition,—only you refused it."
"I wonder what gas-bag let that out," commented Nick. "You shouldn't believe all you hear, you know. Now, darling, I'm ready for the plunge, and I must look sharp about it too. Do you mind rummaging out a towel?"
"But, Nick, was it true?"
"What? The V.C. episode? Oh, I suppose so, more or less. I didn't want to be decorated for running away, you see. It didn't seem exactly suitable. Besides, I didn't do it for that."
"Nick, do you know you make me feel more contemptible every day?"
There was an unmistakable quiver of distress in the words.
"My own girl, don't be a goose!" came the light response. "You don't honestly suppose I could ever regret anything now, do you? Why, it's a lost faculty."
He stepped from the tent, clad loosely in a bath sheet, and bestowed a kiss upon his wife's downcast face in passing. "Look here, sweetheart, if you cry while I'm in the water, I'll beat you directly I come out. That's a promise, not a threat. And by the way, I've got something good to tell you presently; so keep your heart up."
He laughed at her and went his way, humming tunelessly after his own peculiarly volatile fashion. She listened to his singing, as he splashed in the stream below, as though it were the sweetest music on earth; and she knew that he had spoken the truth. Whatever sacrifices he had made in the past, regret was a thing impossible to him now.
By the time he joined her again, she had driven away her own. The sky was changing mysteriously. The purple depth was lightening, the stars receding.
"We must hurry," said Nick. "The gods won't wait for us."
But they were ready first after all, and the morning found them high up the mountainside with their faces to the east.
Sudden and splendid, the sun flashed up over the edge of the world, and the snow of the mountain crests shone in roselit glory for a few magic seconds, then shimmered to gold—glittering as the peaks of Paradise.
They did not speak at all, for the ground beneath their feet was holy, and all things that called for speech were left behind. Only as dawn became day—as the sun-god mounted triumphant above the waiting earth—the man's arm tightened about the woman, and his flickering eyes grew steadfast and reverent as the eyes of one who sees a vision….
"'Prophet and priestess we came—back from the dawning,'" quoted Nick, under his breath.
Muriel uttered a long, long sigh, and turned her face against her husband's shoulder.
His lips were on her forehead for a moment; the next he was peering into her face with his usual cheery grin.
"Care to hear my piece of news?" he questioned.
She looked at him eagerly. "Oh, Nick, not the mail!"
He nodded. "Runner came in late last night. You were asleep and dreaming of me. I hadn't the heart to wake you."
She laughed and blushed. "As if I should! Do you really imagine that I never think of anyone else? But go on. What news?"
He pulled out two letters. "One from Olga, full of adoration, bless her funny heart, and containing also a rude message from Jim to the effect that Redlands is going to rack and ruin for want of a tenant while we are philandering on the outside edge of civilisation doing no good to anybody. No good indeed! I'll punch his head for that some day. But I suppose we really ought to be thinking of Home before long, eh, sweetheart?"
She assented with a smile and a sigh. "I am sure we ought. Dr. Jim is quite right. We must come back to earth again, my eagle and I."
Nick kissed her hair. "It's been a gorgeous flight hasn't it? We'll do it again—heaps of times—before we die."
"If nothing happens to prevent," said Muriel.
He frowned. "What do you say that for? Are you trying to be like Lady Bassett? Because it's a vain aspiration, so you may as well give it up at the outset."
"Nick, how absurd you are!" There was a slight break in the words. "I—I had almost forgotten there was such a person. No, I said it because—because—well, anything might happen, you know."
"Such as?" said Nick.
"Anything," she repeated almost inaudibly.
Nick pondered this for a moment. "Is it a riddle?" he asked.
She did not answer him. Her face was hidden.
He waited a little. Then, "I shall begin to guess directly," he said.
She uttered a muffled laugh, and clung to him with a sudden, passionate closeness. "Nick, you—you humbug! You know!"
Nick tossed his letters on the ground and held her fast. "My precious girl, you gave the show away not ten seconds ago by that blush of yours. There! Don't be so absurdly shy! You can't be shy with me. Look at me, sweet. Look up and tell me it's true!"
She turned her face upwards, quivering all over, yet laughing tremulously. "Yes, Nick, really, really!" she told him. "Oh, my darling, are you glad?"
"Am I glad?" said Nick, and laughed at her softly. "I'm the happiest man on earth. I shall go Home now without a pang, and so will you. We have got to feather the nest, you know. That'll be fun, eh, sweetheart?"
Her eyes answered him more convincingly than any words. They seemed to have caught some of the sunshine that made the world around them so glorious.
Some time elapsed before she remembered the neglected correspondence.
Time was of no account up there among the mountains.
"The other letter, Nick, you didn't tell me about it. I fancied you might have heard from Will Musgrave."
"So I have," said Nick. "You had better read it. There's a line for you inside. It's all right. Daisy has got a little girl, both doing splendidly; Daisy very happy, Will nearly off his head with joy."
Muriel was already deep in Will's ecstatic letter. She read it with smiling lips and tearful eyes. At the end in pencil she found the line that was for her.
"Tell Muriel that all's well with me, and I want you both for
Christmas.—Daisy."
Muriel looked up. "I promised to spend Christmas with them, Nick."
Nick smiled upon her quizzically. "By a strange coincidence, darling, so did I. I should think under the circumstances we might go together, shouldn't you?"
She drew his hand to her cheek. "We will go to them for Christmas then. And after that straight Home. Tell Dr. Jim when you write. But—Nick—I think we should like to feather the nest all ourselves, don't you?"
"Why, rather!" said Nick. "We'll do it together—just you and I."
"Just you and I," she repeated softly.
Later, hand in hand, they looked across the valley to the shining crags that glistened spear-like in the sun.
A great silence lay around them—a peace unspeakable—that those silver crests lifted into the splendour of Infinity.
They stood alone together—above the world—with their faces to the mountains.
And thus standing with the woman he loved, Nick spoke, briefly—it seemed lightly—yet with a certain tremor in his voice.
"Horses," he said—"and chariots—of fire!" And Muriel looked at him with memory and understanding in her eyes.