Part 22 (1/2)

Kitty Drummund was that other close friend of whom mention has already been made. A young married woman, her husband was manager of one of the big compounds belonging to the De Beers Company. A compound is an enormous yard fenced with corrugated iron, inside which dwell several hundreds of natives employed down in the mines. These natives are kept inside the compounds for spells of three to six months, according to contract, and during that time are not allowed to stir out for any purpose whatsoever, except to go underground, the shaft-head being in the enclosure. At the end of their contracts, they are allowed to return to their kraals, after having been rigorously searched to make certain that they have no diamonds on them. Scores of white men are employed in the business of guarding, watching, and searching the natives, and it was over these men and, indirectly, over the natives, also, that Leonard Drummund was manager, his job obliging him and his wife to live far from the fas.h.i.+onable quarter of Kimberley.

Their house, in fact, though outside the compound, was close beside it and within the grounds of the company, being fenced off from the town by a high wire fence. The only entrance into this enclosure was an enormous iron gate through which all friends of the Drummunds or visitors to the compound had to pa.s.s, under the scrutinizing stare of the man on guard, who had also the right to challenge persons as to what business took them into the company's grounds. It was thus that De Beers guarded, and still do guard to this day, the diamond industry from thieves and pirates, and would-be members of the illicit diamond-buying trade.

Through this big gate, on the afternoon after the club ball, Rosanne pa.s.sed unchallenged, as she was in the habit of doing four or five times a week, being well known to all the guards as a friend of Mrs.

Drummund's. Many of the guards were acquaintances of hers, also, for, when they were not in the act of guarding, they were young men about town, qualifying for bigger positions in the company's employ. The young fellow on guard that day had danced with Rosanne the night before, and when she went through she gave him a smile and a friendly nod. He thought what a lovely, proud little face she had, and that that fellow Harlenden would be a lucky man to get her, even if he were a baronet.

Kitty Drummund, among cus.h.i.+ons and flowers, behind the green blinds of her veranda, was waiting in a hammock for her friend. For a very happy reason she had been obliged to forego gaieties for a time; but her interest in them remained, and she was dying to hear all about the ball. Rosanne, however, seemed far from being in her usual vein of quips and quirks and bright, ironical sayings about the world in general. Indeed, her conversation was of the most desultory description, and Kitty gleaned little more news of her than she had already found in the morning newspaper. Between detached s.n.a.t.c.hes of talk, the girl fell into long moments of moody silence, and even tea and cigarettes did not unknit her brow or loose her tongue. Kitty, who not only expected to be entertained about the dance but had also excellent reasons for supposing she should hear something very exciting and important about Rosanne herself, was vaguely troubled and disappointed. At last she ventured a gentle feeler.

”What about Sir Denis, Nan?”

Rosanne turned a thoughtful gaze on her, and this time a little of her old mockery glimmered in it.

”He still survives.”

”Don't be silly, darling. Len heard this morning at the club--what everyone is saying--_you_ know--how much he is in love with you, and that he's sure to propose soon.”

”He proposed last night, Kit. We are engaged.”

Kitty sat up with dancing eyes.

”And you've been keeping it back all this time! Oh, Rosanne, how could you? Such a darling man! You are lucky. What a lovely bride you'll make! You must put it off until I can come. Shall you be married in bright colours, as you always said you would? And you'll be Lady Harlenden!”

Kitty was not a sn.o.b, but t.i.tles didn't often come her way and she couldn't help taking a whole-hearted delight in the fact that Rosanne would have one.

”I shall never be Lady Harlenden. I don't mean to marry him, Kit.”

”Don't mean to marry him!” Kitty Drummund's lips fell apart and all the dancing excitement went out of her eyes. She sat and stared. At last she said wonderingly but with conviction:

”But you care for him, Rosanne!”

”I know,” said the other sombrely. ”I love him. I love him, and I can't resist letting him know and taking his love for a little while.

It is so wonderful. Oh, Kit, it is so wonderful! But I can never marry him. I am too wicked.”

”Wicked!”

Kitty stared at her. The lovely dark face had become extraordinarily distorted and anguished, and seemed actually to age under Kitty's eyes.

The girl put up her hands and pressed them to her temples.

”Oh, I am so unhappy,” she muttered, ”and I can't tell any one! Mother and Rosalie don't understand----”

Kitty Drummund was only frivolous on the surface. At core she was sound, a good woman and a loyal friend. She took the girl's hands.

”Tell _me_, dear,” she said gravely; ”I'll try and help.”

But Rosanne shook her head. The agonized, tortured look pa.s.sed slowly from her features, and her face became once more composed, though white as ashes. Her eyes were dull as burnt-out fires.

”I can't,” she said heavily. ”I can't tell any one; I don't even understand it myself.”

She fell into silence again, but presently turned to Kit with a stern look, half commanding, half imploring.

”Swear you'll never tell any one what I've said, Kit--about the engagement or anything else.”