THE LAND OF BLASTED HOPES
They were still at breakfast when Kelly came dashing in full of the
news of the death of Kieff. No one knew whether it had been
accidental or intentional, but he spoke--as the girl in the office
had spoken--as if a curse had been lifted from the town. And
Sylvia sat at the table and listened, feeling as if her heart had
been turned to ice. The man had died by his own hand, but she
could not shake from her the feeling that she and Burke had been
the cause of his death.
She saw Kelly for a few minutes alone when the meal was over, and
whispered her thanks to him for what he had done with regard to
Guy. He would scarcely listen to her, declaring it had been a
pleasure to serve her, that it had been the easiest thing in the
world, and that now it was done she must not worry any more.
"But was it really easy?" she questioned.
"Yes--yes! He was glad enough of the chance to give it back. He
only acted on impulse, ye see, and Kieff was pushing behind. He'd
never have done it but for Kieff. Very likely he'll pull round now
and lead a respectable life," said Kelly cheerily. "He's got the
stuff in him, ye know, if he'd only let it grow."
She smiled wanly at his optimism. "Oh, do beg him to try!" she
said.
"I'll do me best," promised Kelly. "Anyway, don't you worry! It's
a sheer waste of time and never helped anybody yet."
His cheerful attitude helped her, small as was her hope for Guy's
reformation. Moreover, she knew that Kelly would keep his word.
He would certainly do his best for Guy.
He took his leave of her almost immediately, declaring it was the
busiest day of his life, but assuring her that he would ride over
to Blue Hill Farm to see her on the earliest opportunity with the
greatest pleasure in the world.
She asked him somewhat nervously at parting if the death of Kieff
were likely to hinder their return, but he laughed at the notion.
Why, of course not! Burke hadn't killed the man. Such affairs as
the one she had witnessed the night before were by no means unusual
in Brennerstadt. Besides, it was a clear case of opium poisoning,
and everyone had known that he would die of it sooner or later. It
was the greatest mercy he had, gone, and so she wasn't to worry
about that! No one would have any regrets for Kieff except the
people he had ruined.
And so with wholesome words of reassurance he left her, and she
went to prepare for her journey.
When Burke joined her again, they spoke only of casual things,
avoiding all mention of Guy or Kieff by tacit consent. He was very
considerate for her, making every possible provision for her
comfort, but his manner was aloof, almost forbidding. There was no
intimacy between them, no confidence, no comradeship.
They reached Ritzen in the late afternoon. Burke suggested
spending the night there, but she urged him to continue the
journey. The heat of the day was over; there was no reason for
lingering. So they found their horses, and started on the long
ride home.
They rode side by side along the dusty track through a barren waste
that made the eyes ache. A heavy stillness hung over the land,
making the loneliness seem more immense. They scarcely spoke at
all, and it came to Sylvia that they were stranger to each other
now than they had been on that day at the very beginning of their
acquaintance when he had first brought her to Blue Hill Farm. She
felt herself to be even more of an alien in this land of cruel
desolation than when first she had set foot in it. It was like a
vast prison, she thought drearily, while the grim, unfriendly
_kopjes_ were the sentinels that guarded her, and the far blue
mountains were a granite wall that none might pass.
The sun was low in the sky when they reached the watercourse. It
was quite dry with white stones that looked like the skeletons of
the ages scattered along its bed.
"Shall we rest for a few minutes?" said Burke. But she shook her
head. "No--no! Not here. It is getting late."
So they crossed the _spruit_ and went on.
The sun went down in an opalescent glow of mauve and pink and pearl
that spread far over the _veldt_, and she felt that the beauty of
it was almost more than she could bear. It hid so much that was
terrible and cruel.
They came at length, when the light was nearly gone, to a branching
track that led to the Merstons' farm.
Burke broke his silence again. "I must go over and see Merston in
the morning."
She felt the warm colour flood her face. How much had the Merstons
heard? She murmured something in response, but she did not offer
to accompany him.
A deep orange moon came up over the eastern hills and lighted the
last few miles of their journey, casting a strange amber radiance
around them, flinging mysterious shadows about the _kopjes_,
shedding an unearthly splendour upon the endless _veldt_. It
spread like an illimitable ocean in soundless billows out of which
weird rocks stood up--a dream-world of fantastic possibilities, but
petrified into stillness by the spell of its solitudes--a world
that once surely had thrilled with magic and now was dead.
As they rode past the last _kopje_--her _kopje_ that she had never
yet climbed, they seemed to her to enter the innermost loneliness
of all, to reach the very heart of the desert.
They arrived at Blue Hill Farm, and the sound of their horses' feet
brought the Kaffirs buzzing from their huts, but the clatter that
they made did not penetrate that great and desolate silence. The
spell remained untouched.
Burke went with Joe to superintend the rubbing down and feeding of
their animals, and Sylvia entered the place alone. Though it was
exactly the same as when she had left it, she felt as if she were
entering a ruin.
She went to her own room and washed away the dust of the journey.
The packet that Kelly had given her she locked away in her own box.
Burke might enter at any moment, and she did not dare to attempt to
open the strong-box then. She knew the money must be returned and
speedily; she would not rest until she had returned it. But she
could not risk detection at that moment. Her courage was worn down
with physical fatigue. She lacked the nerve.
When Burke came in, he found her bringing in a hastily prepared
supper. He took the tray from her and made her sit down while he
waited upon her. Her weariness was too great to hide, and she
yielded without demur, lacking the strength to do otherwise.
He made her eat and drink though she was almost too tired even for
that, and when the meal was done he would not suffer her to rest in
a chair but led her with a certain grim kindliness to the door of
her room.
"Go to bed, child!" he said. "And stay there till you feel better!"
She obeyed him, feeling that she had no choice, yet still too
anxious to sleep. He brought her a glass of hot milk when she was
in bed, remarking that her supper had been a poor one, and she
drank in feverish haste, yearning to be left alone. Then, when he
had gone, she tormented herself by wondering if he had noticed
anything strange in her manner, if he thought that she were going
to be ill and so would perhaps mount guard over her.
A chafing sense of impotence came upon her. It would be terrible
to fail now after all she had undergone. She lay listening,
straining every nerve. He would be sure to smoke his pipe on the
_stoep_ before turning in. That was the opportunity that she must
seize. She dared not leave it till the morrow. He might ask for
the key of the strong-box at any time. But still she did not hear
him moving beyond the closed door, and she wondered if he could
have fallen asleep in the sitting-room. A heavy drowsiness was
beginning to creep over her notwithstanding her uneasiness. She
fought against it with all her strength, but it gained ground in
spite of her. Her brain felt clogged with weariness.
She began to doze, waking with violent starts and listening,
drifting back to slumber ever more deeply, till at last actual
sleep possessed her, and for a space she lay in complete oblivion.
It must have been a full hour later that she became suddenly
conscious again, with every faculty on the alert, and remembered
the task still unfulfilled. It was almost as if a voice--Guy's
voice--had called her, urging her to action.
The room was full of moonlight, and she could see every object in
it as clearly as if it had been day. The precious packet was under
her pillow with the key of the strong-box. She felt for and
grasped them both almost instinctively before she looked round, and
then, on the verge of raising herself, her newly awakened eyes
lighted upon something which sent all the blood in a wild rush to
her heart. A man's figure was kneeling motionless at the foot of
the bed.
She lay and gazed and gazed, hardly believing her senses, wondering
if the moonlight could have tricked her. He was so still, he might
have been a figure wrought in marble. His face was hidden on his
arms, but there was that in his attitude that sent a stab of wonder
through her. Was it--was it Guy kneeling there in an abandonment
of despair? Had he followed her like a wandering outcast now that
his master Kieff was gone? If so, but no--but no! Surely it was a
dream. Guy was far away. This was but the fantasy of her own
brain. Guy could never have come to her thus. And yet, was it not
Guy's voice that had called her from her sleep?
A great quiver went through her. What if Guy had died in the night
far away in Brennerstadt? What if this were his spirit come to
hold commune with hers. Was she not dearer to him than anyone else
in the world? Would he not surely seek her before he passed on?
Trembling, she raised herself at last and spoke his name. "Guy, is
that you? Dear Guy, speak to me!"
She saw an answering tremor pass through the kneeling figure, but
the face remained hidden. The moonlight lay upon the dark head,
and she thought she saw streaks of white upon it. It was Guy in
the flesh then. It could be none other. A yearning tenderness
thrilled through her. He had come back--in spite of all his
sinning he had come back. And again through the years there came
to her the picture of the boy she had known and loved--ah, how
dearly! in the days of his innocence. It was so vivid that for the
moment it swept all else aside. Oh, if he would but move and show
her once more the sparkling eager face of his youth! She longed
with a passionate intensity for one glimpse, however fleeting, of
that which once had filled her heart with rapture. And in her
longing she herself was swept back for a few blind seconds into the
happy realms of girlhood. She forgot all the bitterness and the
sorrow of this land of strangers. She Stretched out her arms to
the golden-winged Romance that had taught her the ecstasy of first
love.
"Oh, Guy--my own Guy--come to me!" she said.
It moved then, moved suddenly, even convulsively, as a wounded man
might move. He lifted his head, and looked at her.
Her dream passed like the rending of a veil. His eyes pierced her,
but she had to meet them, lacking power to do otherwise.
So for a space they looked at one another in the moonlight, saying
no word, scarcely so much as breathing.
Then, at last he got to his feet with the heavy movements of a
tired man, stood a while longer looking down at her, finally turned
in utter silence and left her.
When Sylvia slept, many hours later, there came again to her for
the third and last time the awful dream of two horsemen who
galloped towards each other upon the same rocky path. She saw
again the shock of collision and the awful hurtling fall. She went
again down into the stony valley and searched for the man who she
knew was dead. She found him in a deep place that no other living
being had ever entered. He lay with his face upturned to the
moonlight, and his eyes wide and glassy gazing upwards. She drew
near, and stooped to close those eyes; but she could not. For they
gazed straight into her own. They pierced her soul with the mute
reproach of a silence that could never be broken again.
She turned and went away through a devastating loneliness. She
knew now which of the two had galloped free and which had fallen,
and she went as one without hope or comfort, wandering through the
waste places of the earth.
Late in the morning she awoke and looked out upon a world of
dreadful sunshine,--a parched and barren world that panted in vain
for the healing of rain.
"It is a land of blasted hopes," she told herself drearily.
"Everything in it is doomed."