_ PART II CHAPTER XI. THE FIRST FLIGHT
Muriel lay awake for hours that night, going over and over that interview with Nick till her tired brain reeled. She was not exactly frightened by this new element that had come into her life. The very fact of having something definite to look forward to was a relief after dwelling for so long in the sunless void of non-expectancy. But she was by no means sure that she welcomed so violent a disturbance at the actual heart of her darkened existence. She could not, moreover, wholly forget her fear of the man who had saved her by main force from the fate she would fain have shared with her father. His patience--his almost womanly gentleness--notwithstanding, she could not forget the demon of violence and bloodshed that she knew to be hidden away somewhere behind that smiling, yellow mask.
She marvelled at herself for her tame surrender, but she felt it to be irrevocable nevertheless. So broken was she by adversity, that she lacked the energy to resist him or even to desire to do so. She tried to comfort herself with the thought that she was carrying out her father's wishes for her; but this did not take her very far. She could not help the doubt arising as to whether he had ever really gauged Nick's exceedingly elusive character.
Tired out, at last she slept, and dreamed that an eagle had caught her and was bearing her swiftly, swiftly, through wide spaces to his eyrie in the mountains.
It was a long, breathless flight fraught with excitement and a nameless exultation that pierced her like pain. She awoke from it with a cry that was more of disappointment than relief, and started up gasping to hear horses' hoofs dancing in the compound below her window to the sound of a cracked, hilarious voice.
She almost laughed as she realised what it was, and in a moment all her misgivings of the night vanished like wraiths of the darkness. He had extracted a promise from her to ride with him at dawn, and he meant to keep her to it. She got up and pulled aside the blind.
A wild view-halloa greeted her, and she dropped it again sharply; but not before she had seen Nick prancing about the drive on a giddy, long-limbed Waler, and making frantic signs to her to join him. Another horse with a side-saddle was waiting, held by a grinning little _saice_. The sun was already rising rapidly behind the mountains. She began to race through her toilet at a speed that showed her to have caught some of the fever of her cavalier's impatience.
She wondered what Lady Bassett thought of the disturbance (Lady Bassett never rose early), and nearly laughed aloud.
Hastening out at length she found Nick dismounted and waiting for her by the verandah-steps. He sprang up to meet her with an eager whoop of greeting.
"Hope you enjoyed my serenade. Come along! There's no time to waste. Jakko turned red some minutes ago. Were you asleep?"
Muriel admitted the fact.
"And dreaming of me," he rattled on, "as was sweet and proper?"
She did not answer, and he laughed like a boy, rudely but not insolently.
"Didn't I know it? Jump up! We're going to have a glorious gallop. I've brought some slabs of chocolate to keep you from starvation. Ready? Heave ho! My dear girl, you're disgracefully light still. Why don't you eat more?"
"You're as thin as a herring yourself," Muriel retorted, with a most unwonted flash of spirit.
He lifted his grinning face to her as she settled herself in the saddle, and then uncovering swiftly he bent and kissed the black cloth of her habit, humbly, reverently, as became a slave.
It sent a queer thrill through her, that kiss of his. She felt that it was in some fashion a revelation; but she was still too blinded by groping in dark places to understand its message. As they trotted side by side out of the compound, she knew her face was burning, and turned it aside that he might not see.
It was a wonderful morning. There was intoxication in the scent of the pines. The whole atmosphere seemed bewitched. They gave their horses the rein and raced with the wind through an enchanted world. It was the wildest, most alluring ride that she had ever known, and when Nick called a halt at last she protested with a flushed face and sparkling eyes.
Nevertheless, it was good to sit and watch the rapid transformation that the sun-god was weaving all about them. She saw the spurs of Jakko fade from pink to purest amber, and then in the passage of a few seconds gleam silver in the flood of glory that topped the highest crests. And her heart fluttered oddly at the sight, while again she thought of the eagle of her dream, cleaving the wide spaces, and bearing her also.
She glanced round for Nick, but he had wheeled his horse and was staring out towards the plains. She wondered what was passing in his mind, for he sat like a statue, his face turned from her. And suddenly the dread loneliness of the mountains gripped her as with a chilly hand. It seemed as if they two were alone together in all the world.
She walked over to him. "I'm cold, Nick," she said, breaking in upon his silence almost apologetically. "Shall we go?"
He stretched out a hand to her without turning his head, without speaking. But she would not put her own within it, for she was afraid.
After a long pause he gave a sudden sharp sigh, and pulled his horse round. "Eh? Cold? We'll fly down to Annandale. There's plenty of time before us. By the way, I want to introduce you to a friend of mine--Daisy Musgrave. Ever heard of her? She and Blake Grange are first cousins. You'll like Daisy. We are great chums, she and I."
Muriel had heard of her from Captain Grange. She had also once upon a time met Daisy's husband.
"I liked him, rather," she said. "But I thought he must be very young."
"So he is," said Nick. "A mere infant. He's in the Civil Service, and works like an ox. Mrs. Musgrave is very delicate. She and the baby were packed off up here in a hurry. I believe she has a weak heart. She may have to go home to recruit even now. She doesn't go out at all herself, but she hopes I will take you to see her. Will you come?"
Muriel hesitated for a moment. "Nick," she said, "are you telling--everybody--of our--engagement?"
"Of course," said Nick, instantly. "Why not?"
She could not tell him, only she was vaguely dismayed.
"I told Lady Bassett yesterday evening," he went on. "Didn't she say anything to you?"
"Oh, yes. She kissed me and said she was very pleased." Muriel's cheeks burned at the recollection.
"How nice of her!" commented Nick. He shot her a sidelong glance. "Dear Lady Bassett always says and does the right thing at the right moment. It's her speciality. That's why we are all so fond of her."
Muriel made no response, though keenly aware of the subtlety of this speech. So Nick disliked her hostess also. She wondered why.
"You see," he proceeded presently, "it is as well to be quite open about it as we are going to be married so soon. Of course every one realises that it is to be a strictly private affair. You needn't be afraid of any demonstration."
It was not that that had induced her feeling of dismay, but she could not tell him so.
"And Mrs. Musgrave knows?" she questioned.
"I told her first," said Nick. "But you mustn't mind her. She won't commit the fashionable blunder of congratulating you."
Muriel laughed nervously. She longed to say something careless and change the subject, but she was feeling stiff and unnatural, and words failed her.
Nick brought his horse up close to hers.
"There's one thing I want to say to you, Muriel, before we go down," he said.
"Oh, what?" She turned a scared face towards him.
"Nothing to alarm you," said Nick, frowning at her quizzically. "I wanted to say it some minutes ago only I was shy. Look here, dear." He held out to her a twist of tissue-paper on the palm of his hand. "It's a ring I want you to wear for me. There's a message inside it. Read it when you are alone."
Muriel looked at the tiny packet without taking it. She had turned very white. "Oh, Nick," she faltered at last, "are you--are you--quite sure?"
"Quite sure of what?" questioned Nick. "Your mind? Or my own?"
"Don't!" she begged tremulously. "I can't laugh over this."
"Laugh!" said Nick sharply. And then swiftly his whole manner changed. "Yes, it's all right, dear," he said, smiling at her. "Take it, won't you? I am--quite--sure."
She took it obediently, but her reluctance was still very manifest. Nick, however, did not appear to notice this.
"Don't look at it now," he said. "Wait till I'm not there. Put it away somewhere for the present, and let's have another gallop."
She glanced at him as she slipped his gift into her pocket. "Won't you let me thank you, Nick?" she asked shyly.
"Wait till you've seen it," he returned. "You may not think it worth it. Ready? One! Two! Three!"
In the scamper that followed, the blood surged back to her face, and her spirits rose again; but in her secret heart there yet remained a nameless dread that she was as powerless to define as to expel. _