CHAPTER XVI.
"NINON, NINON, QUE JAIS TU DE LA VIE."
Elsie wore at the Garfits' the white dress that Blake had seen her stitching. She had copied it from an old print. It hung in soft folds to her feet, and she had a little frilled fichu of muslin knotted at her breast, and where it was knotted there was a big bunch of Parma violets, and she carried a large bouquet of violets in her hand. The violets had been sent to the cottage that morning. Elsie knew who had sent them, and perhaps the sending of the violets had something to do with her radiance. Everyone said that Elsie had never looked so beautiful.
The Garfits had a large verandahed house some little way out of town on the North Side. They always gave pleasant parties. Sir James was a jovial red-faced person, who on these occasions dropped the cares of state as though they had been a garment. Rose was always amiable and ladylike, and Lady Garfit was at her best in her own house.
Sir James was, however, on this evening more preoccupied than was usual with him. There had been another stormy debate that day. Mr. Torbolton, leader of the Opposition, had been seen in the refreshment room in close conclave with Blake. The talk ran that Blake's speech had done more than anything to shake the Ministry. Sir James had given particular instructions to his womenkind that they should "cotton up" to Blake. Blake was an enemy whom it might be well to conciliate.
Lady Garfit, therefore, had arranged that Rose should dance the first dance with Blake. Hose was not an exhilarating companion. Her conversation consisted mostly of remarks to the effect that Lady Stukeley was too sweet, and that the Prince was almost certain to be in Leichardt's Town for the Birthnight Ball; which—had Mr. Blake heard?—was put off till the 12th of June on account of the uncertainty about the Prince. Lady Stukeley had told Lady Garfit that they were expecting a telegram every moment to fix the date. This was not deeply interesting to Blake. He fired a little when Miss Garfit asked him if he did not think Miss Valliant looked lovely. It was such a pity that she was such a dreadful flirt, and got herself so talked about.
Miss Garfit was getting up riding parties—they were to be Parliamentary riding parties—it was only on Wednesdays and Saturdays that the members were free. Would Mr. Blake join them, and had he that lovely horse, which Miss Valliant rode at the Tunimba races, in Leichardt's Town?
"Yes," but Blake made a bold shot. It had been promised to Miss Valliant, and he—Blake—was bound to escort her.
Oh, but Rose Garfit would be greatly pleased if Miss Valliant and Lord and Lady Horace would join their riding-parties. Lord Horace was always amusing. Didn't Mr. Blake think so?
No, Blake could not quite agree with her. He thought Lord Horace was a bit of a cub, and that his wife was much too good for him. The only decent member of that family was Lady Waveryng.
Miss Garfit looked a little horrified at this familiar criticism. Had Mr. Blake known them in England?
No, not in England; at least only by hearsay, and he changed the conversation with a compliment on Miss Garfit's dress.
He got his opportunity at last with Elsie. There were certainly no traces of tears on her radiant face this evening. She lifted her bouquet.
"Thank you ever so much. It goes so beautifully with my dress."
"I have something to confess. I have committed perjury for your sake."
"For my sake!"
"I swore just now that the Outlaw was devoted to your service this winter, and that I was in duty bound to escort you. I think Miss Grarfit wanted to borrow the Outlaw. She is getting up Parliamentary riding parties, and I believe that she intends asking you and Lady Horace to join them."
"Do you really mean that I am to ride the Outlaw?"
"If you will honour me so far. He is here, at your service, as I said. You have only to say when you want him sent over."
"Horace has horses. I am sure Ina would like to ride. Mr. Blake."
"Yes, Miss Valliant."
"Please forget what I said last night."
"Once before, when you asked me to forget something that you said, I told you that I could not promise to do that. But I'll promise that I won't remind you of it. Besides, you said nothing that was not altogether charming and womanly."
They were just going to join the dancers. Trant passed them with Minnie. Pryde, and it seemed to Elsie that there, was a meaning expression in his eyes. But she forgot all about Trant while she was dancing with Blake. Later on she had a waltz with him, and he complimented her on her dress and upon her violets.
"I know that Blake sent you that bouquet."
"Yes, he did."
"If I send you a bouquet one night, will you wear it?"
"Certainly, with pleasure, if it matches my dress, and it won't be a matter of great difficulty to arrange that, for my dresses are not so various or so numerous."
"You couldn't have anything prettier than the one you are wearing to-night. Everyone is saying that you look lovely."
Trant's conversation was this evening carried on in the strain of somewhat extravagant compliment. Perhaps Elsie was wanting in fine discrimination, anyhow she preferred it to his more tragic mood. She was having her fill of admiration just now. Frank Hallett was the only drawback to her enjoyment. He looked sad, she fancied, reproachful, and he did not very often ask her to dance, but devoted himself to Ina. "Oh, why hadn't he fallen in love with Ina?" Elsie said to herself. "That would have settled everything and she would have suited him far better than I ever shall." ······· One of the riding parties came off. Before the second could take place the Ministry had gone out, and Mr. Torbolton had formed a new cabinet.
It was no surprise to any one that Blake was offered an important place in it. Certainly to secure a seat in the Government, after having been in the House only a few weeks, was an achievement, but Mr. Torbolton was only too glad to gain such an acquisition to his ranks.
The re-elections occasioned a temporary absence from town on the part of the new Ministers. Blake was, however, returned without a contest.
And meanwhile the little whirligig went round. Elsie was very gay. She had several new admirers, and the verandah receptions became a feature of the day. Lord Horace started a four-in-hand, and was in boisterous spirits. Mrs. Allanby was usually on the box seat. Poor Ina looked paler than ever and more anxious; but she was a loyal little creature and said nothing of her domestic trials, even to Elsie, During Blake's absence at Goondi, Frank Hallett came a little more to the fore, and was a frequent visitor at Riverside, but he still kept to his line of not obtruding his love. One day Elsie asked him why he had so changed.
"I have not changed, and I shall never change," he answered. "I am always here—always ready to do anything you that want me to do. But you are quite free, Elsie, and I wish you to feel so. It is not I who have changed."
"Do you mean that I have changed?"
"Yes, you have greatly changed, and I can only guess at the meaning of the change."
"Tell me how I have changed," she said.
"You are restless, and your moods vary. Sometimes you look perfectly wretched; at others wildly happy. You are a barometer, Elsie, and the influence which affects your moods is Blake. You are expecting him now?"
"Frank, you insult me."
"I don't want to. I think that you are under the spell of some evil enchantment. It is not wholesome honest love. That is why I am patient, and why I feel certain that it will pass away."
"And then?"
"Oh then—then it may be my turn."
"Frank, I deny everything. Mr. Blake and I are playing a game—that is the whole truth. We agreed to see which could hurt the other most."
"It seems to me a dangerous game, Elsie—and as you play it, not a very womanly one."
"Dangerous! Perhaps; but for whom? Do you think that I am going to let myself be beaten. He has hurt other women, he shall not hurt me. You think I am unwomanly because I flirt with him openly; because I sit out dances with him, and allow myself to be talked about; because my manner gives people some reason for saying that I am in love with him. Well, we shall see. When he asks me to marry him I shall refuse him, and all the world shall know it."
"Elsie! You are undignified, I say again, you are unwomanly."
"So Ina tells me. Well, you can give me up. Frank, I sometimes think that there is an evil spirit in me, and that you are right—that I am under a spell. It's true that I am eaten up by a demon of vanity, and selfishness, and reckless pride. I want to be first. I cannot bear that any man should get the better of me. It is horrid, I know it. Very well, but I am myself. I want to do something wild; I want to feel, I want to know. Ah!"
She gave a sudden start, and then drew back and kept very still, for at that moment Blake entered.
They were spending the evening in Lady Horace's sitting-room at Fermoy's. Lord Horace and some choice pals were in the verandah smoking. There was whiskey on the table. Ina was sewing, and Trant had just gone to the piano.
He began his song as Blake came in, "Ninon, Ninon, que fais tu de la vie," and only nodded at the sight of his partner, and went on singing. It was a song that always affected Elsie curiously. Blake shook hands silently with Lady Horace, and seated himself beside Elsie. Hallett moved away.
When the song was over, Blake said, "I came to tell Lord Horace that the Ullagong is signalled."
Ina, who had moved towards them, gave a little start, "Then the Waveryngs will be here to-night."
"Not to-night, Lady Horace," said Blake, pitying her evident alarm—"at least not till the small hours of the morning."
"Oh! do you think," said Ina tremulously, "that I need go with Horace to meet them?"
"No," he said, "why should you? It will be far too early."
"I am so nervous about them," said poor Ina, "and it may make a great difference to Horace their liking or disliking me. That is what Horace says."
Ina was off her balance, or she never would have so betrayed herself.
"They are quite sure to like you," said Blake; "and you will like them. Lady Waveryng is a charming woman—kind and unaffected, and he is a good fellow."
"Do you know them?" said Elsie, in surprise.
"I know all about them," he answered. "They will not know me, but some of my people live in Ireland near the Waveryngs."
"Oh! I know," said Ina. "Then you are one of the Blakes of Castle Coola? Horace was wondering."
"I have relations in Ireland, and they live at Castle Coola," answered Blake. "That is how I come to know about the Waveryngs. But I would rather you didn't talk about it, Lady Horace, if you don't mind, though there is no particular secret. The fact is I wasn't a credit to my family, and I left Ireland in disgrace, and have never had a word of communication with my people since. I am as dead to them as if I were dead in reality."
Elsie looked at him in a startled, pained way. It was the first time she had ever heard him speak of his people in Ireland, or in any definite manner of his past. Ina looked surprised, too, and a little pitiful. She was beginning to like Blake better than she had done at first.
"You need not be afraid of my talking about what you have said, Mr. Blake," she answered, "I shall not even tell Horace if you would rather not."
"Thank you, Lady Horace, certainly I would rather not. You are very good, and I am sure you are very loyal to your friends."
Ina flushed. "I must let Horace know about the Ullagong," she said. "I hope he won't go over to the North Side to-night."
She went out to the verandah. Lord Horace was greatly excited at the prospect of his sister's arrival, and declared he must start off to the North Side at once, and find out when the Ullagong would really be in. He said that he would stay at the club and beguile the time at billiards, and proposed that Hallett and Trant should accompany him. Trant accepted the invitation, and Ina cast an imploring glance at Hallett, who had not intended to go over yet. He changed his mind, however, when he saw that Elsie seconded Ina's beseeching look, and the three left together. The other men followed shortly. Blake remained chatting with Lady Horace and Elsie. He told them about his second Goondi election. They discussed his new post, and the responsibilities attaching to it.
"One very serious responsibility you will have, at least," Ina said, laughing. "We shall blame you now, Mr. Blake, if Moonlight bails up any more coaches, or robs any gold escorts. Horace says that the police are in your department, and that you are now Captain Macpherson's chief."
Blake laughed too, a little strangely Ina and Elsie thought.
"Yes, that is so. Odd, isn't it? Odd that I should have to sign the warrant against Moonlight, if it ever comes to that."
"I hope it will never come to that," said Elsie. "I have a curious feeling about Moonlight; I don't know why. I want him to escape. I want him to go away and take his money with him and begin a new life."
"Perhaps," said Blake, "that is what he means to do. Perhaps it is some grim fate which has pushed him into his evil ways; some terrible necessity of his nature which makes the excitement of robbery and adventure an outlet for all his fiercer passions, and his better self may—for all you know, Miss Valliant—be struggling with the baser self, and urging him to flee temptation."
Something in his tone made Elsie look at him wonderingly. He seemed uneasy under her gaze, and got up restlessly, and with a forced laugh added: "It would hardly do to advance these theories, would it, in defence of Moonlight at a meeting of the Executive? Miss Valliant, I see you making a move, may I be permitted to take you home?"
"Thank you," Elsie said simply. "I ought to go now, Ina dear, you should get to bed. Don't bother about the Waveryngs. Leave them to Horace."
She kissed her sister, and presently she and Blake were walking along the dim straggling street on their way to the Riverside paddock.
They hardly spoke at first. At last he said abruptly, after some banal remark about Leichardt's Town gaieties, "Have you missed me?"
"Yes," she answered fearlessly. "And now tell me, have you missed me?"
"Oh, no—not in the least. I have only thought of you in almost every hour of daylight, and in some few hours during the night. I have only counted the days till I should get back to Leichardt's Town and to you. Does that satisfy you?"
She did not answer for a moment. Her heart was beating wildly. Presently she said, "Is this another move in the game?"
"If you take it so. I am going to ask you something, a great favour, will you pull me across to the other side and back again?"
"Yes. Come."
She ran on a little in advance of him and reached the Riverside fence first. Instead of taking the path which led to the cottage, she went down another, through the banana plantation and to the river bank. The boat was lying at the steps. The tide was at full, and lapped the drooping branches of the chucky-chuckie tree with a caressing sound.
Elsie threw off her cloak and stepped into the boat, which she untied. She looked, he thought, like some nymph of Greek days in her white dress and with her slim, erect form and well poised head bare to the night. The stars shone brightly, and the sky was intensely clear. She motioned him to sit in the stern, and shook her head when he asked if he. should take an oar, then pushed off into mid stream.
Her strokes were long and vigorous. He watched with fascinated eyes the movements of her lithe young body as she bent backwards and forwards to the oar. She never spoke a word, but rowed straight across and then turned and rowed him back again.
"Now," she said, "don't ever say that I made any fuss about doing what you asked me. Give me credit for being courageous at any rate when you think of the way in which Lady Garfit would tear my character to shreds if she could see me now."
"Elsie," he exclaimed, "I believe that for a man you loved you would brave any danger. I believe that you have it in you, and that you neither know yourself nor does your world know you."
She stooped to fasten the rope on the boat—they were on shore again now. When she answered it was in a serious and altered tone.
"No, I don't think I have ever known myself. I am quite sure my world doesn't know me. And I think you are right. I do think it is in me to brave danger for the sake of a man I loved. But then I never believed it was in me to love a man like that."
"Ah!" he cried, "you know it now, and it is I who have taught you. You love me."
They were walking up the little hill to the cottage. Both paused. She turned on him her big troubled star-like eyes.
"Elsie," he repeated, triumphantly. "I have won the game; you love me."
He put out his arms and caught her to him in a wild embrace. There was something almost brutal in his impetuosity. He kissed her cheeks, her hair, and then her lips. Elsie had never dreamed of kisses so passionate and unrestrained. For a moment or two she yielded to his ardour, and then a swift and agonizing sense of humiliation overcame her. "How dare you! What right have you?" she cried—" Oh, you are cruel, you are base!"
She tore herself from him and he saw her no more.