The Top of the World Part 42

She shook her head. "I think he needs--someone. It wouldn't be right--I know it wouldn't be right to leave him quite alone.

Besides, the Merstons won't want me. Why should I go?"

"Because I wish it," he said again. And, after a moment, as she stood silent, "Doesn't that count with you?"

She looked up at him quickly, caught by something in his tone, "Of course your wishes count with me!" she said. "You know they do.

But all the same--" She paused, searching for words.

"Guy comes first," he suggested, in the casual voice of one stating an acknowledged fact.

She felt the hot colour rise to her temples. "Oh, it isn't fair of you to say that!" she said.

"Isn't it true?" said Burke.

She collected herself to answer him. "It is only because his need has been so great. If we had not put him first--before everything else--we should never have saved him."

"And now that he is saved," Burke said, a faint ring of irony in his voice, "isn't it almost time to begin to consider--other needs?

Do you know you are looking very ill?"

He asked the question abruptly, so abruptly that she started. Her nerves were on edge that day.

"Am I? No, I didn't know. It isn't serious anyway. Please don't bother about that!"

He smiled faintly. "I've got to bother. If you don't improve very quickly, I shall take you to Brennerstadt to see a decent doctor there."

"Oh, don't be absurd!" she said, with quick annoyance. "I'm not going to do anything so silly."

He put his hand on her arm. "Sylvia, I've got something to say to you," he said.

She made a slight movement as if his touch were unwelcome. "Well?

What is it?" she said.

"Only this." He spoke very steadily, but while he spoke his hand closed upon her. You've gone your own way so far, and it hasn't been specially good for you. That's why I'm going to pull you up now, and make you go mine."

"Make me!" Her eyes flashed sudden fire upon him. She was overwrought and weary, and he had taken her by surprise, or she would have dealt with the situation--and with him--far otherwise.

"Make me!" she repeated, and in second, almost before she knew it, she was up in arms, facing him with open rebellion. "I'll defy you to do that!" she said.

The moment she had said it, the word still scarcely uttered, she repented. She had not meant to defy him. The whole thing had come about so swiftly, so unexpectedly, hardly, she felt, of her own volition. And now, more than half against her will, she stood committed to carry through an undertaking for which even at the outset, she had no heart. For there was no turning back. The challenge, once uttered, could not be withdrawn. She was no coward. The idea came to her that if she blenched then she would for all time forfeit his respect as well as her own.

So she stood her ground, slim and upright, braced to defiance, though at the back of all her bravery there lurked a sickening fear.

Burke did not speak at once. His look scarcely altered, his hold upon her remained perfectly steady and temperate. Yet in the pause the beating of her heart rose between them--a hard, insistent throbbing like the fleeing feet of a hunted thing.

"You really mean that?" he asked at length.

"Yes." Straight and unhesitating came her answer. It was now or never, she told herself. But she was trembling, despite her utmost effort.

He bent a little, looking into her eyes. "You really wish me to show you who is master?" he said.

She met his look, but her heart was beating wildly, spasmodically.

There was that about him, a ruthlessness, a deadly intention, that appalled her. The ground seemed to be rocking under her feet, and a dreadful consciousness of sheer, physical weakness rushed upon her. She went back against the table, seeking for support.

But through it all, desperately she made her gallant struggle for freedom. "You will never master me against my will," she said.

"I--I--I'll die first!"

And then, as the last shred of her strength went from her she covered her face with her hands, shutting him out.

"Ah!" he said. "But who goes into battle without first counting the cost?"

He spoke sombrely, without anger; yet in the very utterance of the words there was that which made her realize that she was beaten.

Whether he chose to avail himself of the advantage or not, the victory was his.

At the end of a long silence, she lifted her head. "I give you best, partner," she said, and held out her hand to him with a difficult smile. "I'd no right--to kick over the traces--like that. I'm going to be good now--really."

It was a frank acceptance of defeat; so frank as to be utterly disarming. He took the proffered hand and held it closely, without speaking.

She was still trembling a little, but she had regained her self-command. "I'm sorry I was such a little beast," she said.

"But you've got me beat. I'll try and make good somehow."

He found his voice at that. It came with an odd harshness.

"Don't!" he said. "Don't!--You're not--beat. The battle isn't always to the strong."

She laughed faintly with more a.s.surance, though still somewhat shakily. "Not when the strong are too generous to take advantage, perhaps. Thank you for that, partner. Now--do you mind if I take Guy his nourishment?"

She put the matter behind her with that inimitable lightness of hers which of late she had seemed to have lost. She went from him to wait upon Guy with the tremulous laugh upon her lips, and when she returned she had fully recovered her self-control, and talked with him upon many matters connected with the farm which he had not heard her mention during all the period of her nursing. She displayed all her old zest. She spoke as one keenly interested.

But behind it all was a feverish unrest, a nameless, intangible quality that had never characterized her in former days. She was elusive. Her old delicate confidence in him was absent. She walked warily where once she had trodden without the faintest hesitation.

When the meal was over, she checked him as he was on the point of going to Guy. "How soon ought we to start for the Merstons?" she asked.

He paused a moment. Then, "I will let you off to-day," he said.

"We will ride out to the _kopje_ instead."

He thought she would hail this concession with relief, but she shook her head instantly, her face deeply flushed.

"No, I think not! We will go to the Merstons--if Guy is well enough. We really ought to go."

She baffled him completely. He turned away. "As you will," he said. "We ought to start in two hours."

"I shall be ready," said Sylvia.

CHAPTER III

THE SEED

"Well!" said Mrs. Merston, with her thin smile. "Are you still enjoying the Garden of Eden, Mrs. Ranger?"

Sylvia, white and tired after her ride, tried to smile in answer and failed. "I shall be glad when the winter is over," she said.