Part 35 (1/2)

”Good, kind, Christian girl! There's nothing like having a reputation to keep up. That's why I told you about my secret road.”

”You're--vulgar.”

”No, I'm human, and very young, and rather beautiful. And quite intelligent.” There came on her face the look which made her seem old and tired with her own knowledge. ”Was it Zebedee last night?”

Heat ran over Helen's body like a living thing.

”You're hateful,” she stammered. ”As though Zebedee and I--as though Zebedee and I would meet by stealth!”

”Honestly, I can't see why you shouldn't. Why shouldn't you?”

Helen smoothed her forehead with both hands. ”It was the way you said it,” she murmured painfully and then straightened herself. ”Of course nothing Zebedee would do could be anything but good. I beg his pardon.”

And in a failing voice, she explained again, ”It was the way you said it.”

”I suppose I'm not really a nice person,” Miriam replied.

CHAPTER XVIII

During the week that followed, a remembrance of her responsibilities came back to Helen and when she looked at Mildred Caniper, alternating between energy and la.s.situde, the s.h.i.+ning house seemed wearily far off, or, at the best, Notya was in it, bringing her own shadows. Helen had been too happy, she told herself. She must not be greedy, she must hold very lightly to her desires lest they should turn and hurt her, yet with all her heart she wanted to see Zebedee, who was a surety for everything that was good.

By Rupert he sent letters which delighted her and gave her a sense of safety by their restraint, and on Sunday another letter was delivered by Daniel because Zebedee was kept in town by a serious case.

”So there will be no fear of my saying all those things that were ready on my tongue,” he wrote, to tease, perhaps to test her, and she cried out to herself, ”Oh, I'd let him say anything in the whole world if only he would come!” And she added, on her own broken laughter, ”At least, I think so.”

She felt the need to prove her courage, but she also wanted an excuse fit to offer to the fates, and when she had examined the larder and the store cupboard she found that the household was in immediate need of things which must be brought from the town. She laughed at her own quibble, but it satisfied her and, refusing Miriam's company, she set off on Monday afternoon.

It was a soft day and the air, moist on her cheek, smelt of damp, black earth. The moor would be in its gorgeous autumn dress for some months yet and the distances were cloaked in blue, promising the wayfarer a heaven which receded with every step.

With a destination of her own, Helen was not daunted. Walking with her light long stride, she pa.s.sed the side road leading to Halkett's farm and remembered how George and Zebedee, seated side by side, something like figures on a frieze, had swung down that road to tend old Halkett.

Beyond the high fir-wood she came upon the fields where old Halkett had grown his crops: here and there were the cottages of his hands, with dahlias and staring children in the gardens, and before long other houses edged the road and she saw the thronging roofs of the town.

It was Zebedee who chanced to open to her when she knocked and she saw a grave face change to one of youth as he took her by the wrist to draw her in.

”Do you always look like that when I'm not here?” she asked anxiously, quickly, but he did not answer.

”It's you!” he said. ”You!”

In the darkness of the pa.s.sage they could hardly see each other, but he had not loosed his grasp and with a deft turn of the wrist she thrust her whole hand into his.

”I was tired of waiting for you,” she said. ”A whole week! I was afraid you were never coming back!”

”You know I'd come back to you if I were dead.”

”Yes, I know.” She leaned towards him and laughed and, wrenching himself free from the contemplation of her, he led her to his room. There he shut the door and stood against it.

”I want to look at you. No, I don't think I'd better look at you.” He spoke in his quick usual way. ”Come and sit down. Is that chair all right? And here's a cus.h.i.+on for you, but I don't believe it's clean.

Everything looks dirty now that you are in the room. Helen, are you sure it's you?”