He looked at her with pleasure, he felt his own colour rising a little too. He experienced a strange thrill, he felt older somehow, a sense of responsibility, of protection.
She turned and went away, glancing back over her shoulder as she went.
He went inside, and spoke to the Scotsman. "We'll put the engine on now, Mac." He busied himself with the engine and the switchboard. The girl was lost to sight and memory, but a sense, a something remained.
Next day the young engineer went on duty at midnight; he passed the gipsy camp on his way; four caravans stood silent and dark, and five ragged tents showed faint and ghostly in the moonlight, a fire smouldered in one corner. At the works he relieved another young man like himself, and the bearded highlander. They put on their hats and coats and bade him good-night, and he was left alone, all alone in the dimly lighted engine room with nothing running, everything still, except for the ghostly, uncanny rattle of the steam condensing in the now idle steam pipes.
Going into the little room which served as office, mess room, and test room combined, he took off his hat and coat and rolled back his shirt sleeves. He was a well built young man, standing just on six feet in his boots, with regular, handsome features and strong, prominent chin and nose; the arms that he exposed to view were substantial and very muscular, the hands were spread by the use of hand tools, they were not pretty, but very strong and serviceable. He walked briskly out and carefully looked all round—the plant, the switchboard, the engines, the recording instrument, the battery and boilers; he opened the furnace doors and gazed in at the fires to see that they were properly "banked;" then he went round with a scribbling block and took the meter readings, carefully entering them in the log book; then he opened the door and stepped out into the northern summer night.
He looked round on the fair prospect with extreme pleasure, the hills all round with the mountains in the background, the irregular patches of wood, the few straggling houses showing white and distinct in the moonlight, the little town close by with its few twinkling lights; all spoke to him of peace and pleasure yet strangely, too, of ambition. He would own one of those houses on the hillside as a summer resort. Time would tell, he had no doubt, he was quite confident, he felt it in him. He worked while other fellows played. Worked! Lord! Yes! he stoked boilers and drove engines, he cleaned brass work and did navvies' work, all for ten shillings per week. He smiled, the idea did not depress him in the least.
Suddenly the figure of a girl appeared round the corner of the building. The gipsy girl, he knew her figure at once. He knew she would come, but he had not expected her at this hour.
She advanced slowly, shyly; as she turned the corner she had been active, full of life; she seemed to droop as she caught sight of him standing alone in his shirt sleeves in the moonlight. She came close up and stood before him.
"I've come," she said.
She raised her eyes and looked into his—they seemed all alight, veritably to sparkle like gems.