Chapter III: Justin Goes Away

The following morning Rees came out of his room at dawn; he wore his riding suit, and, with a long look towards Iris’s door, made his way quietly out of the house. He walked a couple of miles along the road leading to the junction, then he turned into a prosperous looking farm and walked up a long avenue of pines. A stout middle-aged man met him at the gate leading into the garden, and said cheerily, “Good morning to you; Mr. Rees. Prince is all ready for you, I got your message last night--got up and fed him myself this morning; but come inside and have a bit of breakfast before you start.” And he led his early visitor with undisguised pleasure through a long wide hall into the big bright kitchen, where an appetising breakfast had already been cooked. The room was filled with the delicious odours of hot coffee, newly baked bread, eggs and bacon. The family and farm hands were already seated at the table and Rees was given a seat beside the eldest daughter, a pretty pink-and-white girl of eighteen, who looked with unmistakable admiration at the new-comer.

The meal was a pleasant one. The boys made fresh innocent jokes and the girls laughed heartily. The merriment of healthy buoyant youth flowed round the driver, yet it failed to draw him into its invigorating stream. He was glad when breakfast was over and he was free to mount the beautiful black thoroughbred he had ridden at the sports. He patted the sleek shiny neck where Iris had stroked it that day, then, once more thanking his host for the loan of the lovely animal, swung gracefully into the saddle.

“Never mind,” the genial farmer responded, “I don’t want any thanks; if there is any thanking to be done I guess it ought to be on our side; we haven’t forgotten what you did for Rob last year, nor your many other kindnesses. You are welcome to Prince, my boy, for as long as you like; though I may as well tell you I would not lend him to any one else in the world.”

As Rees rode away under the pines the eldest daughter stood by the window in the front parlour and watched his slim strong figure with glowing eyes and round burning cheeks. “He will have to bring Prince back,” she said to herself, “and then perhaps he will stay a little longer. He was evidently in a hurry this morning, but when he comes back----”

When Rees had left the farm he took a road leading to a chain of mountains running at an angle to the great blue western ridges. The black thoroughbred cantered up narrow tracks on wild tangled hills, found his way carefully down precipitous paths, climbed higher ascents. Always the track rose till at last after several hours’ journey they reached one of the low shoulders of the mountains jutting out above a wide, deep, thickly wooded gully, where a cataract roared more than a thousand feet below the narrow unfenced path.

There were no trees at this height and the steep slopes leading to the rocky crags just above were covered with green and bronze sedges, now rustling significantly in the light swift breeze.

The sky was vivid, and the sunlight pouring down over the mountainous world revealed every crack and wrinkle on the great massive stones, rising in sharp, audacious contours against the opal blue heavens.

Prince was hot, so Justin jumped out of the saddle to give him a rest. The horse looked round at the austere scenery about him, sniffed in the cool invigorating breeze, glanced back at his rider, and began to nibble daintily among the rough shaggy sedges.

Rees threw himself at full length on the sloping ground. How lonely, how wild it was up here among the barren dauntless peaks, with the roar of water ascending from the huge gaping valley and the loud rustle of the harsh reeds about him. It seemed as if he had strayed far beyond the safe haunts of men into some strange realm where Nature is no longer shy, lisping in unobtrusive whispers, afraid to be heard by men; but where it was unreserved, forward, speaking in loud passionate tones, laying bare its savage emotions, its wild, indomitable strength, staring at him with wide, bold, fearless eyes.

Something came suddenly between him and the sun. He glanced up wonderingly, knowing it could not be a cloud. Just above him was a great eagle, his pinions outspread, gliding silently towards one of the sharp splintered crags.

He watched the majestic bird for a moment, then he looked far down in the direction of the township he had left that morning; but the safe little clustering haven was completely blotted out by the stern rocky crest he had mounted.

Prince stopped nibbling at the dried-up grass growing scantily between the rustling sedges. He came over to Rees slowly, and put a soft muzzle down to his shoulder, as if he felt lonely in this immense solitude and wanted companionship. Justin rose wearily and began to stroke the glossy coat. Then he put his hand over the satin neck and laid his pale face against the spot where Iris’s cheek had once rested. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine he was living again the dear day when he and Iris had patted Prince side by side.

He had left her. What would she say when she heard he had gone? Miss Smith would be sure to tell her during the day. What a brute she must think him! How he had made her suffer! Her pale sweet face with its shadowy eyes had clearly shown him all she was passing through. Seeing her pain had been his worst torture--but in Heaven’s name, what else _could_ he do? Surely it would be a thousand times more cruel, more dastardly selfish, to allow her to link her life to his. He had been torn asunder with misgivings when her large glistening eyes with their silent yearning appeal had met his. It had maddened him to distraction to be forced to go on wounding her by denying all she asked by her mute sorrowful glances. His own longings for her had become unendurable, and, added to that passionate anguish, was the torture of seeing the girl he loved constantly in the society of another man; always at his side, at table, in the car for long excursions, in the house, talking, walking together, spending long cosy evenings in their private sitting-room. In spite of his noble resolutions, his fine reasonings, the sight of that wakened a fierce jealousy within him. He was willing to give up his own happiness, all his claims upon her life for her ultimate good; and he might have endured it perhaps if she had left him at once and her friendship with another man could have been unfolded somewhere else. But to be daily, almost hourly, called upon to see all her time spent with a rival had become so unbearable that he could neither eat nor sleep, but was driven into a frenzied despair. He felt his physical strength ebbing. He knew he could not endure the strain much longer, and it was the consciousness of this which had made him ask Miss Smith for a short holiday to go to a neighbouring township. He must have respite or lose his reason. Now he was on his way for his holiday. But oh, what a hollow mockery it was! The phantoms of Iris beside the other man pursued him; they came with him, and in addition his own heart ached with a crushing pain to be near again.

As he stood beside the docile thoroughbred he was seized with a fierce longing to return,--a longing so forcible that it almost dragged him back in spite of himself; and it was only by a sudden, swift mounting into the saddle and starting quickly on his way that he conquered it.

He arrived at the other township in the middle of the day and inquired for the boarding-house he had heard was there; but to his dismay he was told it was closed, and that there were only two hotels for accommodating visitors. A little reluctantly he made his way to the better one, and as he did so it seemed as if he saw Iris’s eyes looking at him, large, horrified. But he could not draw back now.

He engaged a room, and went to the dining-hall for lunch. As he walked down the passage he noticed a door on the left on which the significant word “Bar” was painted in thick black letters. He finished his meal and then began to wonder what he should do with himself for the rest of the day. He felt restless and lonely. How he missed the sight of Iris at the far-off table! How foolish he had been to leave her! Where could he go--what could he do? Once more he made his way through the front passage. But this time the door with the fatal word upon it was half open and the scent of liquor had crept into the hall.

One whiff of those ghastly odours and his old thirst leapt upon him. It seemed as if it had decoyed him away from Iris, away from his place of shelter, to spring upon him here far from all that upheld and restrained him. An ashen look came over his face. He passed the door and strode swiftly away. But though the fumes were out of the air, they had not been swept out of his senses. In his mind the odours hung like a heavy fog on a winter day. They clung close, insidiously spreading to every cell of his brain, to every nerve in his body, till his whole being was one mad, burning craving for the drink, beckoning him from behind the half-opened door.

He felt suddenly ill and giddy. _One_ agonised yearning had seemed intolerable; but _two_ such fiery longings--one in his heart, the other scorching every nerve in his body--were past endurance! If only he had been near Iris--if only he could have gone and told her what he was suffering, there might have been hope then. One cooling touch of her hand, one loving, encouraging look from her eyes and he might have been saved. But now---- He hurried down the road as one in a frenzy. A sudden impulse came to him to spring on Prince and gallop back to safety as fast as the horse could carry him. But the thoroughbred had already done a long distance and it was cruel to take him back without a proper rest. Besides--there was Captain Barton. He would still be there with Iris when he returned. No, he could not go back; that was out of the question. He must stay and fight the temptation alone.

He walked about the district all the afternoon and did not return to the hotel till dinner-time. He plunged past the bar door; it was still open. In the dining-room he ordered the first thing he saw on the menu, drank cup after cup of strong tea--but the tea could not allay his mad craving; it only seemed to increase it. He could hardly swallow the food on his plate, but he forced himself to eat some of it. Then at last he rose from his chair, a deadly sinking in his heart at the thought of what awaited him in the hall.

One more desperate struggle and he passed the door. But only to sink down on a bench in the verandah outside the bar window. His craving had him in its relentless grip now, it made ferocious assaults upon his will. His powers of resistance were ebbing away. He could not hold out much longer. After battling all the afternoon with the remorseless desire he was weak with the struggle, the aimless walking, and the terrible strain he had undergone. He was white to the lips, his face worked. Men passed by him. They were joking and laughing as they made their way into the large room behind him. Some awful power seemed to lift him from the seat and drag him after them. He gripped the back of the bench as if imploring it to save him. But the wood had no power to hold him. He fought desperately, for the issues of this struggle were stupendous. Iris respected him now, she loved him. But if he fell again she would turn from him in loathing and disgust. Of course she could never be his, but he could not bear that she should regard him as an abhorrent and revolting thing, and she would naturally do so if he fell so soon after his arms had held her, and the lips which burnt now for the insidious thing had clung to hers.

He ground his teeth in agony.

How long he sat there on the bench he did not know. It seemed to him an eternity. Darkness had long ago stolen over the township. Then all at once some one opened the window behind him.

As the subtle odours sprang out upon him he rose. His resolve was made. He would take the consequences, but he must have the drink he craved. All the fighting within had ceased and he walked with calm dignity towards the fateful door. His old enemy had won, he recognised his defeat; so, with set face and slow step, he turned into the hall, crossed the threshold and--entered the bar.