"Bless you!" said Nick. "I'm ten times better for that. Sit down here, won't you? Pull up close. I've got a lot to say."

Of sympathy for her recent bereavement, however, he said no word whatever. He only held her hand.

"There's poor old Will," he said: "I spent the night with him on my way down. He's beastly homesick--sent all sorts of messages to you.

You'll be going out in the winter?"

"It depends," said Daisy.

"He's breaking his heart for you, like a silly a.s.s," said Nick. "How long has Muriel been engaged to Grange?"

Daisy started at the sudden question.

"It's all right," Nick a.s.sured her. "I'm not a bit savage. It'll be a little experience for her. When did it begin?"

Daisy hesitated. "Some weeks ago now."

Nick nodded. "Exactly. As soon as she heard I was coming. Funny of her. And what of Grange? Is he smitten?"

Daisy flushed painfully, and tried to laugh. "Don't be so cold-blooded, Nick. Of course he--he's fond of her."

"Oh, he--he's fond of her, is he?" said Nick. He looked at her suddenly, and laughed with clenched teeth. "I'm infernally rude, I know. But why put it in that way? Should you say I was 'fond' of her?"

Daisy met his darting, elusive glance with a distinct effort. "I shouldn't say you were fond of any one, Nick. The term doesn't apply where you are concerned. There never were two men more totally different than you and Blake. But he isn't despicable for all that.

He's a child compared to you, but he's a good child. He would never do wrong unless some one tempted him."

"That's so with a good many of us," remarked Nick, sneering faintly.

"Let us hope that when the account comes to be totted up, allowance will be made."

Daisy's hand upon his banished the sneer. "Be fair, Nick," she urged.

"We are not all made with wills of iron. I know you are bitter because you think he isn't good enough for her. But would you think any man good enough? Don't think I wanted this. I was on your side. But I--I was busy at the time with--other things. And I didn't see it coming."

Nick's face softened. He said nothing.

She bent towards him. "I would have given anything to have stopped it when I knew. But it was too late. Will you forgive me, Nick?"

He patted her hand lightly. "Of course, of course. Don't fret on my account."

"But I do," she whispered vehemently. "I do. I know--how horribly--it hurts."

Nick's fingers closed suddenly upon hers. His eyes went beyond her.

"Mrs. Musgrave," he said, "I am gifted with a superhuman intelligence, remember. I know some cards by their backs."

Daisy withdrew her hand swiftly. His tone had been one of warning.

She threw him a look of sharp uneasiness. She did not ask him what he meant.

"Tell me some more about Will," she said. "I was thinking of writing to him to-day."

And Nick forthwith plunged into a graphic account of the man who was slaving night and day in the burning Plains of the East for the woman of his heart.

CHAPTER x.x.x

AN OFFER OF FRIENDSHIP

It was with unspeakable relief that Muriel learned of Nick's departure. That he had elected to take Olga with him surprised her considerably and caused her some regret. Grange had discovered some urgent business that demanded his presence in town, and she missed the child in consequence more than she would otherwise have done.

Daisy was growing stronger, and was beginning to contemplate a change, moved at last by Jim Ratcliffe's persistent urging. There was a cottage at Brethaven which, he declared, would suit her exactly.

Muriel raised no objection to the plan. She knew it would be for Daisy's benefit, but her heart sank whenever she thought of it. She was glad when early in June Blake came back to them for a few days before starting on a round of visits.

He approved of the Brethaven plan warmly, and he and Muriel rode over one morning to the little seaside village to make arrangements. Muriel said no more to him upon the subject of Nick. On this one point she had come to know that it was vain to look for sympathy. He had promised to help her indeed, but he simply did not understand her nervous shrinking from the man. Moreover, Nick had made it so abundantly evident that he had no intention of thrusting himself upon her that there could be no ground for fear on that score. Besides, was not her engagement her safeguard?

As for Blake, her silence upon the matter made him hope that she was getting over her almost childish panic. With all the goodwill in the world, he could not see that his presence as watch-dog was required.

Yet, as they turned from the cottage on the sh.o.r.e with their errand accomplished, he did say after some hesitation, "Of course, if for any reason you should want me when I am away, you must let me know. I would come at once."

She thanked him with a heightened colour, and he had a feeling that his allusion had been unwelcome. They rode up from the beach in silence.

Turning a sharp corner towards the village where they proposed to lunch, they came suddenly upon a motor stationary by the roadside.

A whoop of cheery recognition greeted them before either of them realised that it was occupied, and they discovered Nick seated on the step, working with his one hand at the foot-brake. Olga was with him, endeavouring to a.s.sist.

Nick's face grinned welcome impartially to the newcomers. "Hullo! This is luck. Delighted to see you. Grange, my boy, here's a little job exactly suited to your Herculean strength. Climb down like a good fellow, and lend a hand."

Grange glanced at Muriel, and with a slight shrug handed her his bridle. "I'm not much good at this sort of thing," he remarked, as he dismounted.

"Never thought you were for a moment," responded Nick. "But I suppose you can do as you're told at a pinch. This filthy thing has got jammed. It's too tough a job for a single-handed pigmy like me." He glanced quizzically up at Muriel with the last remark, but she quickly averted her eyes, bending to speak to Olga at the same instant.

Olga was living in the seventh heaven just then, and her radiant face proclaimed it. "I'm learning to drive," she told Muriel. "It's the greatest fun. You would just love it. I know you would." She stood fondling the horses and chattering while the two men wrestled with the motor's internal arrangements, and Muriel longed desperately to give her animal the rein and flee away from the mocking sprite that gibed at her from Nick's eyes. Whence came it, this feeling of insecurity, this perpetual sense of fighting against the inevitable? She had fancied that Blake's presence would be her safeguard, but now she bitterly realised that it made no difference to her. He stood as it were outside the ropes, and was powerless to intervene.

Suddenly she saw them stand up. The business was done. They stood for a second side by side--Blake gigantic, well-proportioned, splendidly strong; Nick, meagre, maimed, almost shrunken, it seemed. But in that second she knew with unerring conviction that the greater fighter of the two was the man against whom she had pitted her quivering woman's strength. She knew at a single glance that for all his bodily weakness Nick possessed the power to dominate even so mighty a giant as Blake.

What she had said to herself many a time before, she said again. He was abnormal, superhuman even; more--where he chose to exert himself, he was irresistible.

The realisation went through her, sharp and piercing, horribly distinct. She had sought shelter like a frightened rabbit in the densest cover she could find, but, crouching low, she heard the rush of the remorseless wings above her. She knew that at any moment he could rend her refuge to pieces and hold her at his mercy.

Abruptly he left Blake and came to her side. "I want you and Grange to come to Redlands for luncheon," he said. "Olga is hostess there. Don't refuse."

"Oh, do come!" urged Olga, dancing eagerly upon one leg. "You've never been to Redlands, have you? It's such a lovely place. Say you'll come, Muriel."

Muriel scarcely heard her. She was looking down into Nick's face, seeking, seeking for the hundredth time, to read that baffling mask.

"Don't refuse," he said again. "You'll get nothing but underdone chops at the inn here, and I can't imagine that to be a weakness of yours."

She gave up her fruitless search. "I will come," she said.

"It's exactly as you like, you know, Muriel," Grange put in awkwardly.