Part 25 (1/2)

”Once is quite enough in a lifetime, but it's when the work is done, and he has to quiet down, I foresee trouble for Jefferson. I'm not sure Miss Gascoyne's English friends would altogether appreciate him.”

Again Macallister nodded. ”Still,” he said, ”what yon man does not know he will learn. I would back him to do anything now he has made that boiler steam. Then ye will mind it's no the clever women who are the easiest to live with when ye have married them, and there's a good deal to be said for girls like Miss Gascoyne, who do not see too much. It is convenient that a wife should be content with her husband, and not be wanting to change him into somebody else, which is a thing I would not stand at any price myself.”

Austin grinned, for it was known that Macallister had, at least now and then, found it advisable to entertain his friends on board the _Estremedura_ by stealth. The engineer however, did not appear to notice his smile.

”Ye will go back when ye get the money?” he said.

”Of course. I have to see the thing out now, though I don't quite understand how I ever came to trouble myself about it in the first place.”

This time it was Macallister who grinned. ”I have been in this world a weary while, and would ye pull the wool over my eyes? Ye are aware that the notion was driven into ye.”

Austin was astonished, and a trifle annoyed, as he remembered a certain very similar conversation he had had with Jefferson. It was disconcerting to find that Macallister was as conversant with his affairs as his partner had shown himself to be, especially as they had both apparently drawn the same inference.

”I wonder what made you say that?” he asked, with lifted brows.

Macallister laughed. ”Well,” he said drily, ”I'm thinking Miss Brown knows, as well as I do, that ye would not have gone of your own accord.”

”Why should Miss Brown have the slightest wish that I should go to Africa?”

”If ye do not know, how could ye expect me to? Still, it should be plain to ye that it was not for your health.”

Austin raised himself a trifle, and looked at his comrade steadily. ”The drift of your remarks is tolerably clear. Any way, because I would sooner you made no more of them, it might be as well to point out that no girl who cared twopence about a man would send him to the swamps where the _c.u.mbria_ is lying.”

”Maybe she would not. There are things I do not know, but ye will mind that Jacinta Brown is not made on quite the same model as Miss Gascoyne.

She sees a good deal, and if she was not content with her husband she would up and alter him. I'm thinking it would not matter if it hurt the pair o' them.”

”The difficulty is that she hasn't got one.”

Macallister laughed softly. ”It's one that can be got over, though Jacinta's particular. It's not everybody who would suit her. Ye are still wondering why ye went to Africa?”

”No,” said Austin, with a trace of grimness. ”I don't think it's worth while. Mind, I'm not admitting that I didn't go because the notion pleased me, and if Miss Brown wished me to, it was certainly because of Muriel Gascoyne.”

”Maybe,” said Macallister, with a little incredulous smile. He rose, and, moving towards the doorway, turned again. ”She might tell ye herself to-morrow. She's now in Santa Cruz.”

He went out, apparently chuckling over something, and Austin thoughtfully smoked out his cigar. To be a friend of Jacinta Brown's was, as he had realised already, a somewhat serious thing. It implied that one must adopt her point of view, and, what was more difficult, to some extent, at least, sink his own individuality. Macallister and Jefferson were, he fancied, perhaps right upon one point, and that was that Jacinta had decided that a little strenuous action might be beneficial in his case; but if this was so, Austin was not sure that he was grateful to her. He was willing to do anything that would afford her pleasure, that was, so long as he could feel she would gain anything tangible, if it was only the satisfaction of seeing Muriel Gascoyne made happy through his endeavours. In fact, what he wished was to do her a definite service, but the notion of being reformed, as it were, against his wishes, when he was not sure that he needed it, did not please him.

This was carrying a friendly interest considerably too far, and it was quite certain, he thought, that he could expect nothing more from her.

He almost wished that he had never seen her, which was a desire he had hovered on the brink of before; but while he considered the matter the trade-breeze was sighing through the port, and the engines throbbed on drowsily, while from outside came the hiss and gurgle of parted seas.

Austin heard it all, until the sounds grew fainter, and he went to sleep.

It also happened that while he slept and dreamed of her, Jacinta sat with Muriel Gascoyne in the garden of a certain hotel on the hillside above Santa Cruz, Teneriffe. The house had been built long ago, evidently for a Spanish gentleman of means and taste, and its latest proprietor had sufficient sense to attempt no improvement on its old-world beauty. It stood on a terrace of the hillside, quiet, quaint, and cool, with its ancient, bronze-railed balconies, red-tiled roof, and pink-washed walls, but its garden of palms and oleanders was its greatest charm.

On the night in question a full moon hung over the Canadas' splintered rampart, and its soft radiance fell upon the white-walled city and smote a track of glittering silver across the vast plain of sea. The smell of oleanders and heliotrope was heavy in the air, and a cl.u.s.ter of blossoms swayed above Jacinta's shoulder. She was just then looking up at a Spanish officer in dark green uniform, who stood close by, with sword girt tight to his thigh. He had a dark, forceful face, with the stamp of distinction on it, but he received no encouragement, though he glanced at the vacant place on the stone bench suggestively.

”No,” said Jacinta. ”I do not think I shall go to-morrow, so you need not call for me. I have scrambled through the Mercedes Wood several times already, and we came here to be quiet. That is why we are sitting outside to-night. There are two or three tiresome people in the house who will insist upon talking.”

It is seldom necessary to furnish a Spaniard, who is usually skilled in innuendo, with a second hint, and the officer took his departure gracefully. When he vanished, with jingling sword, into the shadow of the palms, Muriel looked at her companion.