There is a sad fascination in watching such a scene as this. You feel you must wait to see whether that tree yonder will be spared. You do not think it possible that it too will yield to the enemy. The others went, but they were fragile and unstable. This one surely will have the strength to withstand all attacks. You watch, and you turn away perhaps to see the bank a few yards farther down, cave in and disappear; or it may be that you yourself have to step back and save yourself from slipping down with the ground which has given way. You hear a crash—and there is your tree fallen! You feel like holding out your arms to help a friend. You feel the despair of knowing that you cannot help. The torrent seizes your tree, attacks it with overwhelming force, and sweeps it onwards, onwards. And you linger there, remembering sadly that there is one tree less in a barren land, where every green branch is dearly prized; one tree less in that belt of green in the valley, so soothing and restful to the eye through all the months of the year.
Hilda could not leave the spot. She was so excited and interested, and so concerned at seeing the trees rooted up, that Ben began to wonder whether he would ever get her home again; and indeed every moment something fresh was occurring to attract their attention. Now a window and now a door tore past, and now a great olive-tree, and now a pig, and now a pump.
“We must be starting for home,” he said at last. “The storm will be coming on again. Do you see those threatening clouds yonder? My word, there has been a tremendous deal of damage done already, and we’ve not finished with it yet. I hope to goodness none of those boys have suffered. Their land lies low, and this river is cutting away the country right and left.”
She turned to him with sudden eagerness.
“It’s tremendously exciting,” she said, clasping her hands over her head, and drawing a long breath. “If you have not seen anything of the kind before, it works you up to a terrible pitch. I don’t know exactly what it makes one feel like: one does not think of oneself or one’s own concerns: one just watches and wonders.”
“Come,” he said, looking at her with fresh interest, for her eagerness and animation were giving an added charm to her personality. “Come, before we are caught by the rain. Robert will be anxious.”
“Robert will be anxious,” she echoed dreamily, and at once the brightness faded from her face. It was as though some sudden remembrance had quenched her vitality and her interest. She followed Ben over the meadows, and when they had gained the road safely, she glanced at the scene which they had left, and then turned slowly homewards. There was something in her manner which forbade conversation, and Ben walked by her side, twirling his great moustaches, and wondering how things would eventually work themselves out between Robert and herself. His own feelings towards her this afternoon were a curious mixture of resentment and attraction. He was almost angry with himself for being attracted towards her, but he could not help admiring her face and her strength and her whole bearing. She stalked by his side like a young panther. She was as strong as he was, stronger perhaps, and with more vitality in her little finger than poor old Bob in his whole tired body.
At last she spoke.
“Mr. Overleigh,” she said, “you and Robert have been great friends together for a long time now?”