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Updated: August 23, 2024
A road or track, which we found about half a mile east from the camp, led us very directly, on the bearing of 335 degrees, to Loder's station, distant about six miles from our encampment. Here stood a tolerable house of slabs, with a good garden adjoining it, in charge of an old stockman and his equally aged wife.
Chilcote, fresh from indulgence and freedom, would find his obligations a thousand times more irksome than before; he would struggle for a time; then A shadowy smile had touched Loder's lips as the idea formed itself. Then would come the inevitable recall; then in earnest he might venture to put his hand to the plough.
There are times when a malignant obstinacy seems to affect certain people. The only answer Lillian made was to pass her hand over Loder's waistcoat, and, feeling his cigarette-case, to draw it from the pocket. He affected not to see it. "Do you think he recognized you in that tent?" he insisted, desperately. She held out the case. "Here are your cigarettes.
Renwick responded, and at sight of him Loder's feelings warmed with the same sense of fitness and familiarity that the great bed and sombre furniture of the room had inspired. But the man did not come forward as he had expected. He remained close to the door with a hesitation that was unusual in a trained servant.
Her face was averted as he spoke, but he felt hen arm quiver; and when at last she lifted her head, their eyes met. Neither spoke, but in an instant Loder's arms were round her. For a long, silent space they stood holding each other closely. Then, with a sharp movement, Eve freed Herself.
Like a match to a train of powder, the words set flame to the excitement that had smouldered for weeks; and in an atmosphere of stirring activity, a scene of such tense and vital concentration as the House has rarely witnessed, he found inspiration for his great achievement. To give Loder's speech in mere words would be little short of futile.
He revolted at the new order of things, but the revolt was a silent one-the iron of expediency had entered into his soul. He dared not jeopardize Loder's position, because he dared not dispense with Loder. The door that guarded his vice drew him more resistlessly with every indulgence, and Loder's was the voice that called the "Open Sesame!" He walked on aimlessly.
I capitulate." An hour later the two men passed from Loder's bed room, where the final arrangements had been completed, back into the sitting-room. Loder came first, in faultless evening-dress. His hair was carefully brushed, the clothes he wore fitted him perfectly. To any glance, critical or casual, he was the man who had mounted the stairs and entered the rooms earlier in the evening.
Her face was stained with tears, her thick, black lashes were still wet with them; but her expression, as her eyes met Loder's, was a strange example of the courage, the firmness, the power of sacrifice that may be hidden in a fragile vessel.
"Got a match?" he said, laconically, holding out his band. In response Chilcote drew his match-box from his pocket and struck a light. As their hands touched, an exclamation escaped him. "By Jove!" he said, with a fretful mixture of disappointment and surprise. "I hadn't noticed that!" His eyes were fixed in annoyed interest on Loder's extended hand. Loder, following his glance, smiled.
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