A COLD WALK
The sky was misty grey with a hint of blue just overhead. No wind
stirred the snowladen trees, and the frost was intense.
Mrs. Guyse always slept after lunch, and seemed to think it an extremely
good idea that her companion should have a short walk while she rested.
"Be sure to be back in time to pour out my tea," she stipulated. "It's
rough going, down the hill; but I suppose young people like to scramble,
and Nin says he has been since the snow fell, and knows it is passable."
Olwen was quite ready to brave a little snow; Ezra Baxter, by his
master's order, had put nails into her thick boots, and she was anxious
to shake off the reproach of being a town-bred miss who could not go out
in bad weather.
Ninian at billiards the night before and at breakfast that morning had
maintained the improvement in his demeanour. He seemed pleased to see
Miss Innes when she appeared, and his attitude was now that of the
courteous host, anxious that his visitor should feel at home and be
entertained. Dr. Balmayne was not expected that day. Madam's condition
was steadily improving. In spite of her statement that she disliked
being read aloud to, Olwen had made an attempt that morning with the
"Professional Aunt," and the result had been encouraging. The dull
creature had been roused momentarily from her torpor, smiled several
times, laughed once, and said she would like to hear more later on.
This success, coupled with her expressed desire that her companion
should pour out her tea, elated that young person considerably.
"Do you think," she asked as she joined Ninian in the hall, "that you
could carry Madam down the one flight from her room to the banqueting
hall?"
He seemed in no doubt of his ability to perform this feat, even in the
narrow limits of the newel stair.
"If so, we'll have her down the moment we get the couch," replied Miss
Innes eagerly. "I am really quite keen upon shaking her out of her
apathy and getting her to take an interest in things."
"Bravo!" he said. "Who would have thought such a scrap of a girl as
you---- Holy Moses! I beg your pardon."
She made a little mock bow. "But what my friends may say and what
strangers may say are so different!"
"Thanks. That's the best yet," was his reply, as he selected an
iron-shod stick for her. "You ought to feel bucked," he added, as he
opened the hall door. "Sunia licking your boots, Madam sitting up and
taking notice already, and me wagging my tail like anything for a kind
word."
"Good week's work do you think?" demurely.
"Not to mention the doctor," he went on.
"Now _don't_ spoil it!"
"Got to be jolly careful still," he laughed, leading the way to the
quadrangle wall behind the kitchen, where, in the south-west corner, was
a tiny postern door.
He stood a minute whistling Daff before opening it. She came bounding,
golden and beautiful, from the kitchen door, which was opened by Sunia.
The Hindu stood in the opening, her face grave and soft, gazing at the
two as Olwen waved her a farewell. She raised her hand in a curious
gesture as of benediction. The postern opened, and they passed through
upon the narrow terrace which on this side edged the ravine below.
Standing there, Olwen raised her eyes to the oriel in the banqueting
hall. The stone mullions were wide enough apart for a slim girl to push
through; and as the window projected considerably, her fall would not be
broken by the very narrow platform upon which they stood.
Below were the tips of the snow-encumbered trees.
"Mad sort of idea, wasn't it!" said Ninian, answering her unspoken
thought. "Might have known she wouldn't get anything like a clean drop.
Just a minute's temper probably."
"I can't think how people can do such a thing. I love life far too
well. Think of cutting oneself off for ever from sunset and moonrise,
from waterfalls and mountains, and hot weather in sunshine, from roses
and lilies, firesides and interesting books, and--and--oh, all the
things that make the world so fascinating!"
"The world seems grim enough to me sometimes," remarked the young man,
kicking the steps free from piled-up snow which had slid from the
battlements.
"Oh, there are moments when it seems grim to anybody; but you do
understand the joy of living, don't you! I mean the pleasure of just
being able to feel! The sight of almond blossom against blue sky, or of
the evening mist in a river valley, or shallow water slipping over brown
stones, or the smell of garden mould after warm rain?"
"Or the outline of a girl's face, pink against the grey stone of a tower
wall... Oh, you can't complain of that! It's all part of the subject
... and I do know what you mean. George Eliot has something about it
somewhere. I believe I could find it when we get home.... Yes, it is
what makes the difference between people who can be happy in the country
and people who can't. Lily Martin was one who couldn't. This place
fairly got on her nerves, as it does on my poor mother's. I'm glad it
doesn't get on yours, for to bring you here in this weather was trying
you pretty high up. If you can see beauty now, you could see it
always."
As he spoke he preceded her down the steps and guided her along an
almost level bit of ground to the place where the path plunged down
among the trees. It was indeed steep, but, in fact, easier with the
snow upon it than when it was bare trodden earth after a summer's
drought. Ninian helped her, but not officiously; and as she was really
active and strong, as well as light and small, she got along well. A
short way down he showed her the tree upon which Lily Martin had fallen,
and she was able to appreciate the difficulty which Baxter and he had
experienced in rescuing her.
The precipitous part of the descent was soon over, and they went on more
easily, plunging through the snow, and still thridding woodlands, until
by degrees they dropped down almost to the level of the frozen river.
"Those woods," observed Guyse, waving a hand towards the rising ground
beyond the farther bank, "are full of wild cherry. In April they are a
sight to make one feel that--what you were talking about just now."
Olwen could believe it. They turned to their right and walked along,
some thirty feet above the bed of the stream, following a good wide path
which ran under pines. Then came some flat meadows, which they crossed,
the thin blue spiral from the farm chimneys encouraging them onward.
The snow was very deep, but this mattered only inasmuch as it impeded
progress. But once did she suffer misfortune, and this was when she
left the path to look at a curious lichen upon a tree-trunk. There was
a concealed ditch, and instantly she was in the drift up to her waist.
There was much laughter as she was lifted out by Ninian and dusted down.
He remarked that it would teach her to be careful, a saying so sensible
and big-brotherly, and so unlike his former style, that she felt a very
natural triumph.
Many dogs flew out baying as they approached Lachanrigg. Daff's joyous
greeting seemed to set their minds at rest at once, and they were
frisking round Ninian. Their noise brought Mrs. Kay to the door, her
baby in her arms, all excitement to know who could be approaching the
homestead on such a day by the woodland path.
Kay was out, but the sleigh and horse were in the stable, and Ninian
soon had them harnessed, and asked Olwen whether she would rather come
with him to the post office or stay and play with the baby. Anxious to
show the reality of the truce, she chose the drive, and they started
off, over a couple of miles of very exposed fell, down into another
valley, at the foot of which the railway scored a sharp black track upon
the blinding white. The telephone was working, and they rang up the
Newcastle shop, gave their order, and received a promise that the
folding lounge should be put upon the train that very afternoon, and
would arrive at Raefell station next morning about eleven.
Ninian at once volunteered to come and fetch it, so that, in the event
of Dr. Balmayne giving permission, Madam might be brought downstairs in
the afternoon.
By the time the two walkers reached home in the January twilight, they
were talking together quite easily.
By special invitation, Ninian had tea in his mother's room, so that they
might all be together. Madam lay among her pillows, watching them with
her manner of vague, faintly curious detachment.
One of the cakes upon the plate had been baked in a droll resemblance to
an old man's whithered face. Olwen called the attention of Mr. Guyse to
it, upon which he stuck it on a hatpin, and together they proceeded to
dress it up with a paper collar and coat made of the little folded
damask napkin which held the cakes. Even Madam was beguiled into
amusement. She said little, but after a while remarked to the girl,
"You seem to find everything amusing."
"Funny you should say that; it's the exact opposite of what Mr. Guyse
thinks. He calls me a school-marm, and thinks I disapprove of
everything."
"That was because you didn't like me," he cut in.
"Pardon, it was because you didn't like me."
"Have you changed your mind?"
"Have you changed yours?"
"I asked first."
"So you should be answered last."
"Ah, but it doesn't matter what I think; it is your opinion that is the
important thing."
"Utterly wrong. Madam is the only person whose opinion counts. She
will think I am too noisy and silly if you go on like this. I shall now
turn you out and read to her a little."
"Why turn me out? I may have a pipe here, mayn't I, Ma?"
"Oh, I never heard of such a thing!" cried Miss Innes with indignation.
"It's easy to see you've never been ill. Out you go! You must amuse
yourself till supper-time; it was a huge treat your being allowed to
have tea with Madam, and if you don't behave nicely you won't get
another invitation."
She held the door open and he walked out, his eyes twinkling. "What did
I tell you?" he turned back to say to his mother. "School-marm!"
The girl, smiling, shut him out and turned to the bed, removing the
empty cup and plate and restoring the order of the room with quick
touches. She called Sunia, who apparently passed most of her time
either in the stone passage or in the room next to Madam's, for she
always appeared with the minimum of delay to carry out trays or do other
behests.
Madam made no comment at all upon the little scene just enacted. She
lay quite still, following the girl's movements with her eyes only. She
had rather the air of one who watches a comedy, with a real though
veiled anxiety as to what the denouement is likely to be.
After the reading, when her secretary rose to go and prepare for supper,
she remarked, "You read aloud well, and I like that book. I do not like
all books."
"This is very light, but when one is ill one likes something light."
"What I do not like is a book where the people have a guilty secret."
Olwen laughed. "That's so untrue to life," said she.
"Do you think so?" The tone of the question surprised the girl. It was
coldly ironic. "You've not had much experience of life, have you?"
"Well," said Olwen, "more than most girls of my age, perhaps. I have
lost both parents. I have earned my living for three years."
Madam's lips curved in a slight smile. "Have you had many affairs of
the heart! Have you ever had a lover?"
Olwen was near the bed measuring medicine into a glass as she put the
question. The colour that flew into the girl's face answered her.
"You have!" The inflection was of surprise. "Well now, do you know, I
should have guessed differently. Would it be an impertinence on my part
to ask whether you are engaged to be married?"
"Oh, no, certainly not," said Olwen confusedly. "I mean it is not an
impertinence, and I am not engaged."
"Not? But you care for the--the gentleman?"
Olwen looked amused. "Don't you think I have all the aspect of a
love-lorn damsel?"
The faded eyes watched her with close attention. "Your friends
disapproved?"
"Oh dear, no! It is merely that--that the attachment was on the
gentleman's side, not on mine," was the reply.
"I must beg your pardon for my inquisition. But perhaps it does concern
me a little. I would not have selected a companion who was likely to
leave me soon to get married."
"Quite so. I would have told you had there been any arrangement of the
kind. You would have had a right to know."
"Do I understand that you definitely refused your suitor?"
"Perhaps," said Olwen after hesitation, "you may consider that I have
said enough. An affair of this kind one should not talk of, in my
opinion."
"And I have done little so far to earn your confidence," replied Madam,
speaking likewise after some musing. She drank her draught and lay down.
"Might I ask you, before going upstairs, to find my son and tell him I
should like to speak with him for a few minutes?"
Olwen left the room and descended to the dining-room, where Ninian was
seated before the fire, with pipe and newspaper. As she entered he
pushed towards her two envelopes which lay upon the small table beside
him. "Two letters for you," said he. "You seem to have letters every
day. The postman feels there is something to climb the hill for now."
"Does he not come when there are none for the Pele?"
"Yes, that's the devil of it. The poor chap has to, because, as you
know, he collects our post as well as delivering it, and he never knows
until he gets here whether we have anything or not."
"That seems hard. Can't you arrange a signal?"
"Well, I have sometimes thought I would. Perhaps our united
intelligence could devise something."
She took her envelopes from the table, glancing at them with
pleasure--one from Aunt Maud, one from Grace Holroyd.
"Oh, I am forgetting. I came with a message to you from Madam. She
wants to speak to you."
"Now?"
"Yes, now."
"Why, what about--do you know?"
"Haven't any idea unless she desires to complain of me. But I assure
you I haven't been ill-using her."
He laughed, extending his long legs and rubbing Daff's hot back gently
with one heel. "Best way to find out is to go and see, I suppose," he
remarked, as he rose leisurely and with reluctance, stretched himself
and left the room.