Her soul cried out it was no wish of hers that it should be so; but only silent condemnation seemed to echo back to her from the far blue hills.
She glanced at the strong, serene face of her companion, and because somehow he seemed a little less stern and uncompromising to-day she said to him simply, leaning a little to his side:
"I envy you so, the sense that you have won the right to love her. I envy the plucky settlers' wives who are the mothers of her future. I feel myself so utterly an alien. Has Rhodesia any use for ... for such as I?"
He looked at her strangely, and as he looked she saw an expression almost like hungry longing come into his eyes; then as suddenly vanish again, leaving him utterly amazingly stony. He turned his head sharply, and his gaze became fixed and rigid.
"Millionaires' daughters can usually be pretty useful if they like," he said almost brutally; and she felt as if he had struck her. In sudden anger and bewilderment she touched her horse with her whip and darted ahead. It was not the words, but the way in which he had said them. What did he mean?... What did he not mean?... She bit her lips to keep back the smarting tears that blinded her eyes. She felt as if she hated him. For a little space he had been so different to the cold, callous soldier, and in quiet response she had spoken from her heart; and in return he had said this cutting thing with cold intent, making her feel that he despised her. Did he see in her only a willing accomplice to her father's money-making schemes? The one perhaps who spent the gains heartlessly and carelessly elsewhere? Beside those settlers' wives he had said were heroines, was she but an idle, contemptible, useless heiress? She spurred her horse on, letting her thoughts run away with her, unwilling that he should overtake her until she had got herself well in hand; and Carew followed behind, feeling again that sense of a black, rayless abyss all about him. Why had he looked full and deep into her eyes like that?... Why had he not gazed only upon the mountains that soothed and refreshed him?... The mere discovery that the past he thought to have outlived slept so lightly was a shock to him. Had he not then outlived anything? Had he only put his memories lightly to sleep, and dreamt all the life he had lived since? He was scarcely conscious that he had said anything inconsiderate; he hardly knew what he had said. He only remembered he had looked full and deep into beautiful eyes, and suddenly it was as though his dead love Joan had come back to him.
Presently she slowed down so that he came up to her, and it was noticeable that something in her whole attitude had changed. She was as upright as he now, and her eyes also looked rigidly ahead. He saw the change without understanding it and wondered a little, without troubling to probe.
"Your friends, Mr. and Mrs. Grenville," she said coldly, "would they care to see us if we called, or would they think it perhaps just vulgar curiosity?"
"They would be delighted; visitors are a very rare treat to them." He was puzzled a little at her manner, but let it pass. Meryl had it on the tip of her tongue to add, "They don't mind even millionaires' daughters?" but her own good taste saved her from a momentary satisfaction that a man of his breeding could only have considered bourgeoise.
"Perhaps Mr. Stanley would take us," was all she suffered herself; and added, "From his account Mrs. Grenville is evidently one of Rhodesia's heroines."
"She is," he answered so simply that Meryl felt a little nonplussed.