CHAPTER X
A DAY IN PARADISE
It was a day in the very heart of the summer, a day of cloudless skiesand wonderful, magic breezes, a day for the dreaming--and perchance forthe fulfilment--of dreams. Swift and noiseless as the swoop of a monsterbird the motor glided on its way; now rushing, now slackening, but neverhalting. Sometimes it seemed to Anne that she sat motionless while theworld raced by her. She had often seen herself thus. And then with athrill of the pulses came the exultation of rapid movement, banishing theillusion, while the very heart of her rejoiced in the knowledge thereof.For this one day--for this one day--she had left the desert behind her.She had yielded half against her judgment, but she knew no regret. On themorrow she would be back in the waste places where, during all herwomanhood, she had wandered. But for this one day the roses bloomed forher and she drank deep of their fragrance. It had come to her sounexpectedly, so dazzlingly, this brief and splendid hour. She marvelledat herself that she had hesitated even for a moment to accept it.
Perhaps memories of another day came now and again to her as she leanedback on the cushions and opened her soul to the sunshine, memories of aday of sparkling winter which had begun in much the same genialatmosphere and had ended in most hideous disaster. But if they came sheput them resolutely from her. There was no time to waste upon past orfuture. For this one day she would drink the wine of the gods; shewould live.
Nap drove in almost unbroken silence. He was wearing a mask, and she hadno clue to his thoughts; but she scarcely speculated about him. She didnot want to talk. She only desired to give herself up to the purepleasure of rapid movement. She had complete faith in his driving. Ifdaring, he was never reckless, with her beside him.
The meadows were full of hay, and the scent of it lay like a spell uponthe senses. The whirr of the mowing machine filled the air with a lazydroning. It was like a lullaby. And ever they sped on, through towns andvillages and hamlets, through woods and lanes and open country, sure andswift and noiseless save for the cheery humming of the motor, which sangsoftly to itself like a spinning top.
They went through country of which Anne had no knowledge, but Nap seemedfully acquainted with it; for he never paused to ask the way, neverraised his eyes to the finger-posts that marked the cross-roads. Shemarvelled at his confidence, but asked no questions. It was not a day forquestions.
Only when they emerged at last upon a wide moor, where the early heathergrew in tufts of deepest rose, she cried to him suddenly to stop.
"I must get some of it. It is the first I have seen. Look! Howexquisite!"
He drew up at the side of the long white road that zigzagged over themoor, and they went together into the springy heath, wading in it afterthe waxen flowers.
And here Anne sat down in the blazing sunshine and lifted her clear eyesto his. "I won't thank you, because we are friends," she said. "But thisis the best day I have ever had."
He pushed up his goggles and sat down beside her. "So you are not sorryyou came?" he said.
"I could not be sorry to-day," she answered. "How long have you knownthis perfect place?"
He lay back in the heather with his arms flung wide. "I came here firstone day in the spring, a day in May. The place was a blaze of gorse andbroom--as if it were on fire. It suited me--for I was on fire too."
In the silence that succeeded his words he turned and leisurelyscrutinised her. She was snapping a stalk of heather with minute care. Adeep flush rose and spread over her face under his eyes.
"Why don't you look at me?" he said.
Very slowly her eyes came down to him. He was smiling in a secretfashion, not as if he expected her to smile in return. The sunlight beatdown upon his upturned face. He blinked at her lazily and stretched everylimb in succession, like a cat.
"Let me know when you begin to feel bored," he said. "I am quite ready toamuse you."
"I thought it was only the bores who were ever bored," she said.
He opened his eyes a little. "Did I say that or did you?"
She returned to her heather-pulling. "I believe you said it originally."
"I remember," he returned composedly. "It was on the night you bestowedupon me the office of court-jester, the night you dreamed I was the Knaveof Diamonds, the night that--"
She interrupted very gently but very resolutely; "The night that webecame friends, Nap."
"A good many things happened that night," he remarked, pulling off hiscap and pitching it from him.
"Is that wise?" she said. "The sun is rather strong."
He sat up, ignoring the warning. "Anne," he said, "have you ever dreamedabout me since that night?"
She was silent, all her attention concentrated upon her bunch of heather.His eyes left her face and began to study her hands.
After a moment he pulled a bit of string out of his pocket and withouta word proceeded to wind it round the stalks she held. As he knottedit he spoke.
"So that is why you were afraid of me to-day. I knew there was something.I winded it the moment we met. Whenever I hold your hand in mine I cansee into your soul. What was it, Anne? The Knave of Diamonds on a blackmare--riding to perdition?"
He laughed at her softly as though she had been a child. He was stillwatching her hands. Suddenly he laid his own upon them and lookedinto her face.
"Or was it just a savage?" he asked her quietly.
Against her will, in spite of the blaze of sunshine, she shivered.
"Yes," he said. "But isn't it better to face him than to run away?Haven't you always found it so? You kissed him once, Anne. Do youremember? It was the greatest thing that ever happened to him."
He spoke with a gentleness that amazed her. His eyes held hers, butwithout compulsion. He was lulling her fear of him to rest, as healone knew how.
She answered him with quivering lips. "I have wondered since if Idid wrong."
"Then don't wonder," he said. "For I was nearer to the God you worshipat that moment than I had ever been before. I never believed in Him tillthen, but that night I wrestled with Him--and got beaten." He droppedsuddenly into his most cynical drawl, so that she wondered if, afterall, he were mocking her. "It kind of made an impression on me. Ithought it might interest you to know. Have you had enough of this yet?Shall we move on?"
She rose in silence. She was very far from certain, and yet she fanciedthere had been a ring of sincerity in his words.
As they reached the car she laid her hand for an instant on his arm. "Ifit did that for you, Nap," she said, "I do not regret it."
He smiled in his faint, cynical fashion. "I believe you'll turn me out agood man some day," he said. "And I wonder if you will like me any whenit's done."
"I only want you to be your better self," she answered gently.
"Which is a myth," he returned, as he handed her in, "which exists onlyin your most gracious imagination."
And with that he pulled the mask over his face once more and turned tothe wheel.