'I DON'T CARE THAT!'
Zita was now seriously alarmed. She knew that Drownlands was one who
was without scruple in carrying out the ends at which he aimed.
He had not let drop these ominous words at random. He hated Mark with
deadly animosity, and Zita knew very well the reason. He loved her, and
considered that Mark stood in his way. He hoped, she did not question,
that by removing Mark there would remain no other serious obstacle in
the way of his suit. Drownlands would not have recourse to violence.
The remembrance of what he had done to the young man's father precluded
that; but he would not hesitate to adopt any other means that promised
to relieve him of his rival.
Zita had formed no plan as to what she would do. She walked in the
direction of Ely, on the chance of catching Mark up, or of finding some
one who could inform her whether he had returned home to Crumbland, or
had gone on after the army of the discontented. She had not walked a
quarter of a mile before she saw two figures standing on the embankment
against the illumined sky.
Zita was below, in the drove, and in shadow. The roadway that had been
snowy was now trampled black, and a person walking or standing on it
would be invisible to those on the bank, whereas the latter were in
full view to such as were on the drove, and their every movement was
made distinct by the reflection in the sky of the fires kindled by the
rioters in Ely.
Zita hardly, if at all, considered this. She did not at first know who
these persons were who were pencilled against the red light behind
them. She had no reason for remaining concealed, but she walked on a
dark surface, and was therefore invisible, and trod in springy peat, so
that her step was inaudible.
Before she could distinguish by their faces who the two were upon the
embankment, she had discovered their personalities by their voices. One
was Mark Runham and the other was Kainie.
Stung by jealousy, and instinctively, Zita stood still. She heard
Kainie say, 'I wish you would go after him, Mark.'
Then she heard Runham answer, 'I cannot, and I will not. I picked him
out of the dyke, streaming with fen-water—out of the dyke into which
his own comrades had flung him—and in spite of all this he follows
them. Such a fellow as that is past helping. No one but Pip, after
being head, would consent to draggle at the end of the body as its
tail. What is more, Kainie, I do not like your interesting yourself in
him. He is not for you. He has too many maggots in his brain. There
is no place will suit him. Wherever he goes he will be in opposition.
Kainie, do you know the old country-dance tune of "The Clean Contrary
Way"? Well, that is the only strain to which Pip will caper.'
'Poor Pip! He is not a bad fellow at heart.'
'Maybe; but he is terribly perverse. Possibly he would be satisfied
if he were translated to what they call the Antipodes, for there his
head would be pointing where our feet run, and his toes would be aiming
in the direction of our heads. Once for all, I am not going into Ely
after Pip. It is of no use, and my mother is in alarm. I must return to
appease her fears. Now, Kainie, a word to you about yourself.'
'What about me?'
'Why, this: How long do you intend to remain at Red Wings?'
'As long as I must. I suppose my uncle Drownlands will do nothing for
me.'
'But I will. You can have any money you want from me.'
'I do not require it. I am happy at the mill. I shall not leave it yet
a while. I certainly expect nothing from Uncle Ki. He never casts me
even a good-day. It is hard for me to suffer because he quarrelled
with my mother. I do not suppose I shall ever be the better for my
relationship to him. Folks say he is going to marry the Cheap Jack
girl.'
Zita heard Mark's laugh, and then his answer. 'She will never take him.'
'Why not?'
'He is too old for her.'
'That will not trouble her much,' answered Kainie; 'she calculates the
value of everything, and holds a thing to be worth just what money it
will bring in. I believe she has no thoughts, no care for anything but
money. She knows that Uncle Ki has got land and stock, has a good house
and a balance at the bank; she will say "There's profits," and take
him—snap at him eagerly.'
'I do not believe you,' said Mark, and laughed. 'But about yourself,
not Zita. My mother still objects to my bringing you home to Crumbland
and acknowledging you. I do not feel comfortable and happy to be in a
good house, and to have you in that hovel at that mill.'
'I cannot go to you so long as your mother is opposed.'
'Perhaps not; but, after all, Kainie, she cannot hold out against you
for ever. She loves me too sincerely. She has too right a mind. She
will see how it frets me; and then—when all is said and done—I am
master of Crumbland, and not she. If I be driven to assert my will, she
will submit. She is certain to like, to love you, when she comes to
know you. It is but for a little while waiting. I do not wish to have
recourse to strong measures if delay will make all go smooth of itself.
You understand that, Kainie?'
'I will wait. I am content at the mill. But—oh, Mark! I must tell you
a joke. That Cheap Jack girl was at Red Wings the other day, and she
wanted to buy you of me—actually purchase you.'
'At what price was I estimated?'
'At a ream of black-edged notepaper and envelopes to match.'
Mark burst into laughter.
'That is not all,' continued Kainie. 'When I did not prove eager for
the paper, she made another bid.'
'And that—?'
'Was a garden syringe to kill green-fly with soapy water.'
Zita heard both laugh merrily.
'I have not done yet,' continued Kainie. 'She finally produced her most
splendid offer.'
'And that was—?'
'It was one that almost made me surrender you, Mark. A box of all kinds
of scents. And she said'—Kainie could hardly speak for laughing—'I
should smell of Jockey Club in chapel—tremenjous—that's her
word—tremenjous!'
Zita's anger was flaming hot, waves of boiling blood swept through her
veins, swept before her eyes and blinded her.
Gasping for breath, she rushed up the bank, and, reaching them, struck
Kainie on the cheek with her open palm before she or Mark knew she was
there.
'It is a shame!' exclaimed Zita, sobbing with emotion. 'It is mean to
tell of me—to make sport of me!'
Then, turning on Mark, she said, 'And I will tell you what is preparing
for you—you who laugh and jeer at the ignorant, silly Cheap Jack girl.
It is the gallows or Botany Bay. And'—she snapped her fingers in his
face—'if you hang or are transported, I don't care that!'