He walked down the little path beside her and out on to the open road.

A pale mist, like a thin white fog, shrouded the prospect and lent a bracing coldness to the air, which felt fresh and clean with the crisp purity of mountain air, washed by the overnight dews. The girl felt the benefit of the extra warmth of the coat; it was fresher than she had supposed out on the open road. A little wind that had more than a touch of sharpness in its breath blew in their faces as they walked.

"I had no idea the mornings were so good," she said. "I've not been out so early before."

"People miss more than they realise through lying between the sheets,"

he said. "In a country like this the bulk of the day's work should be accomplished before breakfast."

"Is that the principle you act on?" she asked.

He looked grimly ahead of him and was slow in replying.

"That is the principle I should act upon if I did any work," he said at length.

Esme lifted wondering eyes to his face.

"It must be a great responsibility to be independent of work," she said.

Hallam laughed suddenly.

"Do you really think so? Most people would reverse that opinion. The weight of it does not press on me unduly."

He flicked at the dust of the road with his stick and at the gra.s.s which grew beside the road, and was silent for a s.p.a.ce. When he spoke again it was on an entirely different subject.

They were swinging along down the road at a smart pace, and with every yard of ground they covered the aspect of the land changed, became more luxuriant in its growth, and altogether more rugged and a.s.sertive. The sky was flushed with a soft pink like the flush on the face of a child newly wakened from sleep. Before them as they walked the mist rolled back, a gradually thinning vapour dispersing before the warmth of the coming day, revealing with a startling unexpectedness in its reluctant retreat the wonder of contrasting colour, the beauty of the curving road with the shadows of the trees across it, and the great green silences stretching above and below; the silence of the heights, and the more secretive silence of the hidden places in the furtive darkness of the gorge.

The rose pink in the sky deepened, spread itself warmly over the blue expanse, reflected warmly upon the silent, neutral tinted world; changed the face of the land as it changed the face of the sky; brightening and intensifying the colour in the gra.s.s, in the leaves of the trees, painting the flowers wonderfully; transforming everything with the glow and warmth of life. The world threw off its lethargy of slumber and lifted its face wakefully to the flood of sunlight which broke through the rose and azure in a flash of gold.

Esme stood transfixed, with eyes turned to the sunrise. She felt the warmth of the sun on her face, on her hands, on her body. It was like being gripped in a warm embrace, startling and a little disconcerting by its very suddenness. The gold of it poured over her like an amber flame. The man, standing beside her, watched the sun-bathed, radiant figure, and saw the wonder in her eyes, and remained silent, attentive, marking nothing of the glory in the changing heavens, seeing only the startled gladness in a girl's sweet face, and the glowing brightness of her figure against the sunlit dust of the road.

While he stood observing her the thought took shape in his mind and grew, as he watched her simple delight in what at another time would have delighted him equally, but which now he scarcely heeded, that it was an eternal shame he should of his own act, through his lack of endeavour, reduce himself to a level which divided him from her, and from women like her, as widely as the gorge was divided from the heights. But a steep uphill road connected gorge and heights. He looked down the road and up at the heights and frowned. Then deliberately he turned his attention away from the girl and started idly to trace patterns with his stick in the dust. She looked round at him with happy eyes, in which surprise gathered as she noted his preoccupation.

"But you are not watching the sunrise!" she exclaimed.

"It is disappointing," he replied. "Yesterday it was finer. It is one of nature's exhaustless perplexities that she never reveals herself in the same guise twice. Shall we go on?"

She started to walk again, a little chilled, she scarcely knew why, by his manner. She decided that possibly he enjoyed best seeing these things alone. Some people take their pleasures selfishly; he might be one of these. To her the sunrise had been wonderful; and she longed to express her admiration, to share it; but this grave and silent companion made her silent also. She felt disappointed. He stole a glance at her serious face, and his features relaxed; a smile played about the corners of his mouth.

"You had better take off your coat," he said. "The sun soon makes his power felt."

He helped her to remove the coat, and threw it over his shoulder and walked on, holding it with his disengaged hand.

"If the people at the hotel could see us they would be amazed," he said.

"Why?" she asked, a fine colour coming into her cheeks, which deepened as she met his eyes.

"Because no one there has ever seen me do a service for any one," he replied.

"Perhaps no one has demanded service of you," she said quietly.

"No one has," he answered, with a certain grimness that suggested such a demand might have met with small response. "In this instance I believe the idea originated with me."

She laughed brightly.

"You made me bring the coat," she said. "It is only fair you should carry it."

"I am not complaining. When you are tired, say so, and we will rest by the wayside. We have a long way to go yet; and I do not wish to carry you as well as your coat."

Again she laughed brightly and looked up into his face with merry eyes.

"You boasted that you could do that as easily as you could lift a feather. I should not mind carrying a feather," she said.

He looked down at her, quietly amused.

"Think of the amazement at the hotel if I were seen carrying you back!"

he said, and smiled at the quick flush which overspread her face.

"I do not concern myself about the opinion of other people, as you appear to do," she retorted.

"Very well," he replied. "Then, when you are tired, say so, and I will support my boast in a practical manner."

"I will consider your sensitiveness in preference to my comfort," she said.

"You have not known me very long," he returned; "but in the time I should have thought that a person of ordinary discernment would have discovered that I possess no sensibilities to disturb."

"I have discovered one or two things about you," she answered gently, "but not that."

She felt relieved that he did not pursue the subject. He lifted his stick and pointed with it away to the right, where the white wall of a building showed among the trees.

"That is where we shall breakfast on our return," he said.

"On our return! Then you mean to go further?"

"We shall walk a good mile--two miles, if you are equal to it--beyond the house," he said. "The road gets more beautiful the further you travel. But we will stop when you wish. After you have breakfasted you shall rest as long as you like before making the journey back."

Book 1--CHAPTER EIGHT.

It seemed to Esme as they walked rapidly along in the clear light air that nature revealed herself in her fairest mood that morning. Surely never had sunlight shone more golden, never had the blue of the sky appeared more intense, nor the veld glowed with such splendour of colour. A blue haze, liquid in the golden light, quivered before her vision like a thing alive with iridescent wings outspread in the untempered sunlight that poured itself out upon the earth with a brilliance hurtful to the eyes. Everywhere her gaze turned some fresh wonder met the view. Green mingled with brown and orange, shot with vivid colours, where the hardy veld flowers blossomed in the gra.s.s and among the piles of hot-looking yellow stones by the side of the road.

It was a scene of wide and glowing colour, of immense blue distances lit by the fierce flame of the sun.

How much of her enjoyment was due to the beauty of the day, and how much to the companionship of the man who shared these things with her, she did not at the time pause to consider. Her senses were steeped in the delight which is born of the mysterious magic of beauty. Everywhere she looked she saw this magic pictured; in her heart she felt its influence; it permeated all her being, all her brain. And again the expectation of adventure gripped her. The belief that something was about to happen, something of tremendous personal importance, took hold of her imagination, stirred her deeply with a mingling of awe and joyous antic.i.p.ation like nothing she had ever known before. Something was going to happen to her; something surely had happened to her already to work this change in her calm practical nature. For the first time in her quiet uneventful life her latent womanhood rose to the surface and found expression in a number of new emotions, emotions which she vaguely realised without understanding their significance.

She felt intensely alive. Her face was radiant with the joy of life.

But she did not talk much. Hallam was not a talkative companion, and his silence affected her. Occasionally he paused to draw her attention to a particular spot; and once he called a halt and seated himself beside her in the shade of some bushes to rest. When he was seated he lit his pipe. He had brought apples with him, and he offered Esme one, and a knife to peel it with. She returned the knife and set her teeth in the fruit and ate it with keen enjoyment.

"I get these from a farm in the neighbourhood," he explained. "You should walk there one day. They grow quite good fruit, and they are always glad to see visitors. It's not far from the hotel."

"You appear to know every one around here," she remarked.