The Top of the World - Ethel May Dell (read novels website txt) 📗

she wondered greatly at his attitude. But it was no time for questioning. Mutely she obeyed him and went back.
She found Guy in the act of filling a glass for Kelly. His own stood empty at his elbow. She went forward quickly, and laid her hand on his shoulder. "Guy, please!" she said,
He looked at her, the bottle in his hand. In his eyes she saw again that dreadful leaping flame which made her think of some starved and desperate animal. "What is it?" he said.
An overwhelming sense of her own futility came upon her. She felt almost like a child standing there, attempting that of which Burke had declared himself to be incapable.
"What is it?" he said again.
She braced herself for conflict. "Please," she said gently. "I want you to wait and have some tea. It won't take long to get." Then, as the fever of his eyes seemed to burn her: "Please, Guy! Please!"
Kelly put aside his own drink untouched. "There's no refusing such a sweet appeal as that," he declared gallantly. "Guy, I move a postponement. Tea first!"
But Guy was as one who heard not. He was staring at Sylvia, and the wild fire in his eyes was leaping higher, ever higher. In that moment he saw her, and her alone. It was as if they two had suddenly met in a place that none other might enter. His words of the morning rushed back upon her--his passionate declaration that life was not long enough for sacrifice--that the future to which she looked was but a mirage which she would never reach.
It all flashed through her brain in a few short seconds, vivid, dazzling, overwhelming, and the memory of Kieff went with it--Kieff and his cold, sinister assertion that she held Guy's destiny between her hands.
Then, very softly, Guy spoke. "To please--you?" he said.
She answered him, but it was scarcely of her own volition. She was as one driven--"Yes--yes!"
He looked at her closely as if to make sure of her meaning. Then, with a quick, reckless movement, he turned and set down the bottle on the table.
"That settles that," he said boyishly. "Go ahead, Kelly! Drink! Don't mind me! I am--brandy-proof."
And Sylvia, throbbing from head to foot, knew she had conquered, knew she had saved him for a time at least from the threatening evil. But there was that within her which shrank from the thought of the victory. She had acted almost under compulsion, yet she felt that she had used a weapon which would ultimately pierce them both.
She scarcely knew what passed during the interval that followed before Burke's return. As in a dream she heard Kelly still talking about the Brennerstadt diamond, and Guy was asking him questions with a keenness of interest that seemed strange to her. She herself was waiting and watching for Burke, dreading his coming, yet in a fashion eager for it. For very curiously she had a feeling that she needed him. For the first time she wanted to lean upon his strength.
But when at length he came, her dread of him was uppermost and she felt she could not meet his look. It was with relief that she saw Guy was still his first thought. He had fetched Joe from the Kaffir huts, and the lamps were filled and lighted. He was carrying one as he entered, and the light flung upwards on his face showed it to her as the face of a strong man.
He set the lamp on the table and went straight to Guy. "Look here!" he said. "I'm going to put you to bed."
Guy, with his arms on the table, looked up at him and laughed. "Oh, rats! I'm all right. Can't you see I'm all right? Well, I must have some tea first anyway. I've been promised tea."
"I'll bring you your tea in bed," Burke said.
But Guy protested. "No, really, old chap. I must sit up a bit longer. I'll be very good. I want to hear all Kelly's news. I believe I shall have to go back to Brennerstadt with him to paint the town red. I'd like to have a shot at that diamond. You never know your luck when the devil's on your side."
"I know yours," said Burke drily. "And it's about as rotten as it can be. You've put too great a strain on it all your life."
Guy laughed again. He was in the wildest spirits. But suddenly in the midst of his mirth he began to cough with a dry, harsh sound like the rending of wood. He pushed his chair back from the table, and bent himself double, seeming to grope upon the floor. It was the most terrible paroxysm that Sylvia had ever witnessed, and she thought it would never end.
Several times he tried to straighten himself, but each effort seemed to renew the anguish that tore him, and in the end he subsided limply against Burke who supported him till at last the convulsive choking ceased.
He was completely exhausted by that time and offered no remonstrance when Burke and Kelly between them bore him to the former's room and laid him on the bed he had occupied for so long. Burke administered brandy again; there was no help for it. And then at Guy's whispered request he left him for a space to recover.
He drew Sylvia out of the room, and Kelly followed. "I'll go back to him later, and help him undress," he said. "But he will probably get on better alone for the present."
"What has been happening?" Sylvia asked him. "Tell me what has been happening!"
A fevered desire to know everything was upon her. She felt she must know.
Burke looked at her as if something in her eagerness struck him as unusual. But he made no comment upon it. He merely with his customary brevity proceeded to enlighten her.
"We went to Vreiboom's, and had a pretty hot time. Kieff was there too, by the way. The fire got a strong hold, and if the wind, had held, we should probably have been driven out of it, and our own land would have gone too. As it was," he paused momentarily, "well, we have Guy to thank that it didn't."
"Guy!" said Sylvia quickly.
"Yes. He worked like a nigger--better. He's been among hot ashes and that infernal sand for hours. I couldn't get him out. He did the impossible." A curious tremor sounded in Burke's voice--"The impossible!" he said again.
"Sure, I always said there was grit in the boy," said Kelly. "You'll be making a man of him yet, Burke. You'll have to have a good try after this."
Burke was silent. His eyes, bloodshot but keen, were upon Sylvia's face.
It was some moments before with an effort she lifted her own to meet them. "So Guy is a hero!" she said, with a faint uncertain smile. "I'm glad of that."
"Let's drink to him," said Kelly, "now he isn't here to see! Burke, fill up! Mrs. Ranger!"
"No--no!" Sylvia said. "I am going to get the tea."
Yet she paused beside Burke, as if compelled. "What else did he do?" she said. "You haven't told us all."
"Not quite all," said Burke, and still his eyes searched hers with a probing intentness.
"Don't you want to tell me?" she said.
"Yes, I will tell you," he answered, "if you especially want to hear. He saved my life."
"Hooray!" yelled Kelly, in the voice of one holloaing to hounds.
Sylvia said nothing for a moment. She had turned very pale. When she spoke it was with an effort. "How?"
He answered as if speaking to her alone. "One of Vreiboom's tumble-down old sheds fired while we were trying to clear it. The place collapsed and I got pinned inside. Piet Vreiboom didn't trouble himself, or Kieff, either. He wouldn't--naturally. Guy got me out."
"Ah!" she said. It was scarcely more than an intake of the breath. She could not utter another word, for that imprisoned thing within her seemed to be clawing at her heart, choking her. If Burke had died--if Burke had died! She turned herself quickly from the searching of his eyes, lest he should see--and understand. She could not--dared not--show him her soul just then. The memory of his kiss--that single, fiery kiss that had opened her own eyes--held her back. She went from him in silence. If Burke had died!


CHAPTER VII
THE NET

It was not often that Sylvia lay awake, but that night her brain was in a turmoil, and for long she courted sleep in vain. For some time after she retired, the murmur of Burke's and Kelly's voices in the adjoining room kept her on the alert, but it was mainly the thoughts that crowded in upon her that would not let her rest. The thought of Guy troubled her most, this and the knowledge that Kieff was in the neighbourhood. She had an almost uncanny dread of this man. He seemed to stand in the path as a menace, an evil influence that she could neither avert nor withstand. Burke had barely mentioned him, yet his words had expressed the thought that had sprung instantly to her mind. He was an enemy to them all, most of all to Guy, and she feared him. She had a feeling that she would sooner or later have to fight him for Guy's soul, and she was sick with apprehension. For the only weapon at her disposal was that weapon she dare not wield.
The long night dragged away. She thought it would never end. When sleep came to her at last it was only to bring dreadful dreams in its train. Burke in danger! Burke imprisoned in a burning hut! Burke at the mercy of Kieff, the merciless!
She wrenched herself free from these nightmares in the very early morning while the stars were still in the sky, and went out on to the _stoep_ to banish the evil illusions from her brain. It was still and cold and desolate. The guest-hut in which Kelly was sleeping was closed. There was no sign of life anywhere. A great longing to go out alone on to the _veldt_ came to her. She felt as if the great solitude must soothe her spirit. And it would be good to realize her wish and to see the day break from that favourite _kopje_ of hers.
She turned to re-enter her room for an extra wrap, and then started at sight of another figure standing at the corner of the bungalow. She thought it was Burke, and her heart gave a wild leap within her, but the next moment as it began to move noiselessly towards her, she recognized Guy.
He came to her on stealthy feet. "Hullo!" he whispered. "Can't you sleep?"
She held out her hand to him. "Guy! You ought to be in bed!"
He made an odd grimace, and bending, carried her hand to his lips. "I couldn't sleep either. I've been tormented with a fiery thirst all night long. What has been keeping you awake? Honestly