CHAPTER XXIV
THE women of Durban received Poppy into their midst with suspicion and disfavour, which they carefully veiled because they could find out absolutely nothing, damning or otherwise, about her, and also because Mrs. Portal's introductions were as good as a certificate of birth, marriage, and death, and to be questioned as little; and Mrs. Portal's position was such that no woman dared assail her for exercising her privileges. What they could do, however, was narrow their eyes, sharpen their claws, and lie in wait, and this they did with a patience and zest worthy of their species.
Meanwhile, those who sought Poppy might sometimes find her at the house of Mrs. Portal; but not as often as she wished, for work chained her almost perpetually, and she was working against time. She was straining every nerve to have her work finished and paid for, and her law case quietly settled in Johannesburg, before the time came for Carson to set out for his five years' exile in Borapota. She was working for freedom and bondage and life—for, indeed, all that life had to offer her now was the word of a man bidding her to follow him into bondage. It was hard on her that while she worked she must lose time and opportunities of meeting him and winding more spells to bind him. But—she had grown used to fighting her battles against odds. So she gave up six solid hours of daylight and two of the night to hard labour; and she made a rule never to count the hours, which were many, that were spent at her desk dreaming. For no writer does work of any consequence without dreaming, even if the dream is not always of work.
Miss Allendner might have found life a dull affair in Briony Cottage had she not been of that domesticated type which finds satisfaction and pleasure in managing a household and ordering good meals. Under her rule the little cottage became a well-ordered, comfortable home, where things ran on oiled wheels, and peace and contentment reigned. No one and nothing bothered Poppy, and the long, bright hours of day were hers to work in uninterruptedly. Such visitors as called, and some did call, if only out of curiosity, were received by Miss Allendner, and regaled with dainty teas and mysteriously impressive statements as to Miss Chard's work which unfortunately kept her so busy that she could see no one—at present. The companion had of necessity been let into the secret of her employer's work and identity, for Poppy was a careless creature with letters and papers, and it irked her to have to exercise caution with an intimate member of her household. Poor Miss Allendner almost exploded with the greatness and importance of the information. But she was a faithful and trustworthy soul, and happy for the first time in all her needy, half-rationed life.
If Poppy had been a bread-and-butter woman she might have been happy, too, in some fashion, within the trim, well-ordered confines of comfortable mediocrity. But it was not there that her desire lay. She had tasted of the wine and fruit of life—Love, and wanderings in far lands, and vagabondage. Bread-and-butter could never satisfy her again.
Work was wine, too. She felt the fire of it circling in her veins, even when wearied out she flung her books and pencils from her and ran out to the sea. And play was wine—when on some lovely evening she arrayed herself amazingly, took rickshaw and Miss Allendner and ascended the wide, sloping road that led to Clem Portal's home on the Berea.
The Portals' social circle varied, because it was constantly being enlarged or decreased by the comings and goings of travellers and visitors; for, besides knowing everyone worth knowing in South Africa, they could beckon friends and acquaintances from the four poles. Add to this that they were both charming, witty, cultivated people, with the true Irish love for bestowing hospitality and the true Irish grace in bestowing it, and it will be easily understood that all delightful and interesting people who came to South Africa sought them as the bee seeks clover.
As a background to new faces could always be found those of fixed and steadfast friends—Mrs. Capron's—the de Greys'—the Laces'. Always Carson, when he came to Natal; and Abinger, because he was both interesting and something of a crony of Bill Portal's.
A sprinkling of Durban people came and went.