Part 5 (1/2)
Prescott smiled.
”Well,” he said, ”I must have grown very staid since then.”
Muriel changed the subject, but they talked with much good-humor until they reached the homestead, where the man alighted and held out his arms to her. She hesitated a moment, and then was seized by him and swung gently to the ground, but she left him with a trace of heightened color in her face and went quietly into the house.
CHAPTER IV
MURIEL FEELS REGRET
It was pleasantly cool in the shadow of Jernyngham's wooden barn, where Prescott sat, talking to its owner. Outside the strip of shade, the sun fell hot upon the parched gra.s.s, and the tall wheat that ran close up to the homestead swayed in waves of changing color before the rush of breeze. The whitened, weather-worn boards of the house, which faced the men, seemed steeped in glowing light, and sounds of confused activity issued from the doorway that was guarded by mosquito-netting. A clatter of domestic utensils indicated that Ellice was baking, and she made more noise than she usually did when she was out of temper. Jernyngham listened with faint amus.e.m.e.nt as he filled his pipe.
”Sorry I can't ask you in, Jack,” he said. ”The kitchen is a pretty large one, but when Ellice starts bread-making, there isn't a spot one can sit down in. Of course, we've another living-room--I furnished it rather nicely--but for some reason we seldom use it.”
The mosquito door swung back with a crash and Ellice appeared in the entrance with a hot, angry face, and hands smeared with dough, her hair hanging partly loose in disorder about her neck, her skirt ungracefully kilted up.
”Ain't you goin' to bring that water? Have I got to wait another hour?”
she cried, ignoring Prescott.
Jernyngham rose and moved away. Returning, he disappeared into the kitchen with a dripping pail and Ellice's voice was raised in harsh upbraiding. Then the man came out, looking a trifle weary, though he sat down by Prescott with a smile.
”These things should be a warning, Jack,” he said. ”Still, one has to make allowances; this hot weather's trying, and Ellice got a letter that disturbed her by the last mail. I didn't hear what was in it, but I suspect it was a bill.”
Prescott nodded, because he did not know what to say. Mrs. Jernyngham had, he gathered, been unusually fractious for the last week or two, and Cyril was invariably forbearing. Indeed, Prescott sometimes wondered at his patience, for he imagined that his comrade had outgrown what love he had borne her. The man had his virtues: he was rash, but he seldom failed to face the consequences with whimsical good-humor.
”Your friends are going to-morrow,” Prescott told him. ”They understand that you will write home and explain your reasons for remaining.”
”I suppose I'll have to do so, though it will be difficult. You see, to give the reasons that count most would be cruel. If it's any comfort to my folks to think favorably of me, I'd rather let them. I've made a horrible mess of things, but that's no reason why others should suffer.”
Prescott glanced round at the dilapidated house, the untidy stable, the door of which was falling to pieces, and the wagon standing with a broken wheel. There was no doubt that Jernyngham was right in one respect.
”Jack,” Cyril resumed, ”your manner gives me the impression that you'll be sorry to lose your visitors.”
”I shall be sorry. I pressed them to stay and I think they'd have done so, only that Mrs. Colston was against it.”
”Ah! That strikes me as significant. You see, I can make a good guess at her motives; I've suffered from that kind of thing. She evidently considers you dangerous. Don't you feel flattered?”
”Mrs. Colston has no cause for uneasiness; I could wish she had.”
”Then I'm glad my friends are going. It will save you trouble, Jack. A match between Miss Hurst and you is out of the question.”
”I've felt that, so far as my merits go, which is the best way I can put it,” said Prescott gravely. ”You speak as if there were stronger reasons.”
”There are; I'm a little surprised you don't see them. Your merits--I suppose you mean your character and appearance--should go a long way; we'll admit that you're a man who might have some attraction for even such a girl as Miss Hurst seems to be, if she didn't pause to think.
Unfortunately for you, however, it's her duty to her relatives to make a brilliant match and I've no doubt she recognizes it. Girls of her station--you had better face the truth, Jack--never marry beneath them.”
”But a man may.”
”A fair shot,” laughed Jernyngham. ”I can't resent it. But the man generally suffers, and the price is a heavier one when the girl has to pay. There's a penalty for breaking caste.”