Highland Ballad Part 6

"Why? Because if his father learns of it he will kill us both."

"I'm sorry, but I don't believe that."

"Believe it!" Again the harsh voice was edged in steel. "By the G.o.d, girl, haven't you been listening? Don't you know yet what kind of man he is?"

"But to kill two women without pretext? Even a Governor---"

"Oh, he would find a pretext. Harboring a fugitive, spying..... Witch craft."

Mary was silent. And though she reproached herself for it, her one desire in that moment was to get as far away from the hate-filled old woman as possible. She longed to escape from the smouldering darkness of that place, to find some quiet hillside where she could think it all through, and decide what must be done. What must be done..... But at the same time she felt the need, far stronger than she cared to admit, for some strong and rea.s.suring male presence.

At that moment she heard hoofbeats outside the door. Not waiting to ask, or consider whether it was right or wrong, she rose from her place and went to the door. The old woman did not try to stop her. She went outside.

Stephen Purceville stopped short in the saddle, and for the s.p.a.ce of several seconds, did not move or breathe. Then with an effort to remain calm he dismounted, for that brief instant losing sight of her, and telling himself it had not happened.

But when he moved forward around the horse, holding tight the reins as if trying to keep a dream from fading, he felt again the strange and forbidding shock of her presence.

The girl was beautiful, yes, but it was far more than that. There was a depth to her, a genuine suffering..... But that was not the whole of it, either. What did it mean? What did it mean?

He could not know that part of what he was feeling was an instinctive sense of kin, the primal recognition of blood and family, a feeling which jarred against, and at the same time increased, his awed physical desire, for her.

And alongside this, no less tangible, was an almost spiritual softening, and unconditional love. . .yes, love, for the beautiful and innocent child before him. Everything about her, from the gentle eyes and supple figure, to the long and simple dress she wore, seemed to him more becoming and picturesque than anything he had ever seen. At the back of his mind flashed a vision: an angelic being all in white.....

For her own part, Mary also felt a shock. From the first glimpse there could be no doubt that he was in fact her brother. She knew this not by any cold comparison of features, but by the sudden love and pity that welled up in her own heart. Love because, whatever his faults and follies (these too she sensed), he was her brother, a fellow orphan and lonely, wayward soul. Her womanly instinct recognized this at once. Pity, because she saw in his eyes the rising of a pa.s.sion that could never be fulfilled. He was in love with her. This she knew with equal certainty.

Still holding tightly to the reins, he came forward. Remembering his pretext for coming, he began to speak stiffly of escaped prisoners and official duties. She listened, hearing not so much the content of his words, as reading in his voice and manner the confirmation of what she had intuitively sensed. And she could not help but feel a certain thrill that this powerful, aggressive man should find himself groping for speech, shy and self-conscious before her.

And indeed, the young captain soon felt the emptiness of his words, which were like banners raised without wind to support them. He stopped, flus.h.i.+ng with anger and embarra.s.sment, and looked at her. As clearly as if she had spoken, her eyes said to him. "It doesn't matter. I know why you're here, and it's all right."

She stepped closer, and without fear or hesitation, began to stroke the white muzzle of the bay, which to his surprise, did not pull away.

"He's never let anyone do that," he said honestly. "A perfect stranger." He unconsciously stepped back, allowing her greater freedom. "Have you been around horses all your life?"

"When I was younger, before....." Her face flushed. "But that's not why. We understand each other."

"Before the war?"

"Yes," she said defensively. She could not understand his persistence, into a matter that was clearly painful to her.

"Do you hate us all, then?"

Her eyes flashed, then became quiet again. "No. I've seen too much of hate, and death. I lost..... I lost everything."

And suddenly it came to her. She was standing and talking with a man, her own flesh, who had been on the other side of the firing, and might well have given the order to kill---

Her face went pale as an intolerable pain rose in the hollow of her chest, and the full horror of war loomed before her. She stepped back, senses failing, and would have fallen if he had not rushed forward and caught her up.

Horrified at his own actions, which could have caused in her such pain, he carried her back to a flat stone before the hut, which served as a bench. She sat woozily for a moment, not knowing where she was, until she became aware of his voice, and of his strong arm about her shoulders, supporting her.

"Mary, it's all right," he said. "Please, please forgive me. We won't speak of it again." And looking up at his troubled countenance, so full of concern and self-reproach, she could not help but forgive him.

He continued, hardly knowing what he said, trying to mend the breach that he had caused between them. "I, too, know what it is to lose: my mother, when I was very young." And in that moment it did not seem strange to him to speak of this, his greatest secret and vulnerability, which he hid so tenaciously from others.

"Stephen." She spoke plainly, though she was not sure herself what she felt, sitting there so close beside him. "You came in the hope of becoming in some way intimate with me. That has already happened; I ask you to think of me as your friend. And as a friend, I have something to ask of you."

"You know that I would do anything." And he colored to hear himself speak.

"Thank you for saying that just now." She laid her hand lightly on his, feeling the s.h.i.+ver it caused in him. Half against her will she left it there, and felt his grateful fingers close around hers. "Would you take me riding today?" she asked. "Without expecting anything in return? More than anything right now I want to go somewhere wide open and free, where I can think, and feel alive. I need someone I can be alone, with. Do you understand?"

"I think so."

But even as he said this, he realized that in the confusion he had lost his grip on the stallion. With a catch at his throat he looked out, and saw that it had moved off, grazing now on a spa.r.s.e patch of green perhaps forty yards away. As if sensing his eyes upon it, the horse looked back at them alertly.

"I've got to catch him!" said the man. And he leapt to his feet. But at his first running strides toward it, the beast raised its head and galloped easily out of his reach, a short distance further up the path. Again the young officer made as if to charge.

"Stephen, wait." Slowly she walked over to him, as to a child who had not understood his lessons.

"But I've got to---" She shook her head.

"No. What you've got to do is stop grabbing so hard at life, and learn to caress it---stop trying to make everything your slave. Haven't you ever just let life come to you?"

"But the horse---"

"Has probably not experienced a moment of true freedom since you've owned him."

"Mary." His face betrayed deep conflict, and she knew that she had been right, and struck upon the roots of his character. "That animal is worth a fortune," he continued desperately. "If he escapes, or is stolen....."

"He won't escape," she said firmly. "This pa.s.s leads nowhere: a dead-end of stone. But that's not what this is about. What you're showing me now is that you're afraid, terribly afraid to let go. You think that if you don't go out and take, by force if necessary, then life will give you nothing, nothing at all. That is a lie which is cruel to both yourself and others. And if you want anything to do with me it must stop, here and now."

"How do you know this?" he demanded. "You're only guessing." But he realized that by his very vehemence he was admitting the truth of what she said. Already she knew him. Somehow, she knew. He let out a breath, and said to her simply. "How would you retrieve my horse?"

"By giving him what he needs. By kindness rather than the noose. No,"

she insisted. "I am not speaking of ideals. I will do it, like this."

Without haste she returned to the door of the hut, and went inside.

Her mother sat staring blankly at the fire, though Mary had little doubt that she had moved there but recently, and had heard, if not seen, all that had taken place.

"Mother, may I take some apples?"

"They are in the basket, as you know for yourself."

"Thank you." There was no time to wonder what her mother was feeling, if anything. She

strode up and kissed her quickly, then took two of the apples and went outside.

There both man and beast looked back at her. With neither haste nor hesitation, she took a bite of the first apple, and, as if the man did not exist, walked directly toward the stallion. It craned its neck at this, and looked cautiously back at its master. But as he made no move, it turned its large, animal eyes back to the girl.