The Way of an Eagle by Ethel M. Dell

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So, rapidly, the man reasoned with himself with the girl's hands
clasping his arm in earnest entreaty, and her eyes of innocence raised
to his.

His answer when it came was slow and soft and womanly, but, in her
ears at least, there was nothing wanting in it. She never dreamed that
he was reviling himself for a blackguard even as he uttered it.

"My dear little girl, there is nothing whatever for you to be afraid
of. You're a bit overstrung, aren't you? The man isn't living who
could take you from me."

He patted her shoulder very kindly, soothing her with a patient,
almost fatherly tenderness, and gradually her panic of fear passed.
She leaned against him with a comforting sense of security.

"I can't think how it is I'm so foolish," she told him. "You are good
to me, Blake. I feel so safe when I am with you."

His heart smote him, yet he bent and kissed her. "You're not quite
strong yet, dear," he said. "It takes a long time to get over all that
you had to bear last year."

"Yes," she agreed with a sigh. "And do you know I thought I was
so much stronger than I am? I actually thought that I shouldn't
mind--much--when he came. And yet I did mind--horribly. I--I--told him
about our engagement, Blake."

"Yes, dear," said Blake.

"Yes, I told him. And he laughed and offered his congratulations.
I don't think he cared," said Muriel, again with that curious,
inexplicable sensation of pain at her heart.

"Why should he?" said Blake.

She looked at him with momentary irresolution. "You know, Blake, I
never told you. But I was--I was--engaged to him for about a fortnight
that dreadful time at Simla."

To her relief she marked no change in Blake's courteously attentive
face.

"You need not have told me that, dear," he said quietly.

"No, I know," she answered, pressing his arm. "It wouldn't make any
difference to you. You are too great. And it was always a little bit
against my will. But the breaking with him was terrible--terrible. He
was so angry. I almost thought he would have killed me."

"My dear," Blake said, "you shouldn't dwell on these things. They are
better forgotten."

"I know, I know," she answered. "But they are just the very hardest of
all things to forget. You must help me, Blake. Will you?"

"I will help you," he answered steadily.

And the resolution with which he spoke was an unspeakable comfort to
her. Once more there darted across her mind the wonder at her father's
choice for her. How was it--how was it--that he had passed over this
man and chosen Nick?

Blake's own explanation of the mystery seemed to her suddenly weak and
inadequate. She simply could not bring herself to believe that in a
supreme moment he could be found wanting. It was unthinkable that the
giant frame and mighty sinews could belong to a personality that was
lacking in a corresponding greatness.

So she clung to her illusion, finding comfort therein, wholly blind to
those failings in her protector which to the woman who had loved him
from her earliest girlhood were as obvious and well-nigh as precious
as his virtues.

CHAPTER XXIX

OLD FRIENDS MEET

"I must be getting back," said Nick.

He was sprawling at ease on the sofa in Jim's study, blinking
comfortably at the ceiling, as he made this remark.

Jim himself had just entered the room. He drew up a chair to Nick's
side.

"You will be doing nothing of the sort to-night," he returned, with
a certain grimness. "The motor has gone back to Redlands for your
things. I saw to that an hour ago."

"The deuce you did!" said Nick. He turned slightly to send a shifting
glance over his brother. "That was very officious of you, Jimmy," he
remarked.

"Very likely," conceded the doctor. "I have to be officious
occasionally. And if you think that I mean to let you out of my sight
in your present state of health, you make a big mistake. No, lie
still, I tell you! You're like a monkey on wires. Lie still! Do you
hear me, Nick?"

Nick's feet were already on the ground, but he did not rise. He sat
motionless, as if weighing some matter in his mind.

"I can't stay with you, Jimmy," he said at last. "I'll spend to-night
of course with all the pleasure in the world. But I'm going back to
Redlands to-morrow. I have a fancy for sleeping in my own crib just
now. Come over and see me as often as you feel inclined, the oftener
the better. And if you care to bring your science to bear upon all
that is left of this infernally troublesome member of mine, I shall be
charmed to let you. You may vivisect me to your heart's content. But
don't ask me to be an in-patient, for it can't be done. There are
reasons."

Jim frowned at him. "Do you know what will happen if you don't take
care of yourself?" he said brusquely. "You'll die."

Nick burst into a laugh, and lay back on the cushions. "I was driven
out of India by that threat," he said. "It's getting a bit stale.
You needn't be afraid. I'm not going to die at present. I'll take
reasonable precautions to prevent it. But I won't stay here, that's
flat. I tell you, man, I can't."

He glanced again at Jim, and, finding the latter closely watching him,
abruptly shut his eyes.

"I'm going to open Redlands," he said, "and I will have Olga to come
and keep house for me. It'll be good practice for her. I'll take her
back with me to-morrow, if you have no objection."

"Fine mischief you'll get up to, the pair of you," grumbled Jim.

"Very likely," said Nick cheerily. "But we shan't come to any harm,
either of us. To begin with, I shall make her wait on me, hand and
foot. She'll like that, and so shall I."

"Yes, you'll spoil her thoroughly." said Jim. "And I shall have the
pleasure of breaking her in afterwards."

Nick laughed again. "What an old tyrant you are! But you needn't be
afraid of that. I'll make her do as she's told. I'm particularly good
at that. Ask Muriel Roscoe."

Jim's frown deepened. "You know of that girl's engagement to Grange, I
suppose?"

Nick did not trouble to open his eyes. "Oh, rather! She took care that
I should. I gave her my blessing."

"Well, I don't like it," said Jim plainly.

"What's the matter with him?" questioned Nick.

"Nothing that I know of. But she isn't in love with him."

Nick's eyelids parted a little, showing a glint between. "You funny
old ass!" he murmured affectionately.

Jim leaned forward and looked at him hard.

"Quite so," said Nick in answer, closing his eyes again. "But you
don't by any chance imagine she's in love with me, do you? You know
how a woman looks at a worm she has chopped in half by mistake? That's
how Muriel Roscoe looked at me to-day when she expressed her regret
for my mishap."

"She wouldn't do that for nothing," observed Jim, with a hint of
sternness.

"She wouldn't," Nick conceded placidly.

"Then why the devil did you ever give her reason?" Jim spoke with
unusual warmth. Muriel was a favourite of his.

But he obtained scant satisfaction notwithstanding.

"Ask the devil," said Nick flippantly. "I never was good at
definitions."

It was a tacit refusal to discuss the matter, and as such Jim accepted
it.

He turned from the subject with a grunt of discontent. "Well, if I am
to undertake your case, you had better let me look at you. But we'll
have a clean understanding first, mind, that you obey my orders. I
won't be responsible otherwise."

Nick opened his eyes with a chuckle. "I'll do anything under the sun
to please you, Jimmy," he said generously. "When did you ever find me
hard to manage?"

"You've given me plenty of trouble at one time and another," Jim said
bluntly.

"And shall again before I die," laughed Nick, as he submitted to his
brother's professional handling. "There's plenty of kick left in me.
By the way, tell me what you think about Daisy. I must call on her
to-morrow before I leave."

This intention, however, was not fulfilled, for Daisy herself came
early to the doctor's house to visit him. Far from well though she
was, she made the effort as a matter of course. Nick was too near a
friend to neglect. Blake did not accompany her. He was riding with
Muriel.

She found Nick stretched out in luxurious idleness on a couch in
the sunshine. He made a movement to spring to meet her, but checked
himself with a laugh.

"This is awfully good of you, Daisy. I was coming to see you later,
but I'm nailed to this confounded sofa for the next two hours, having
solemnly sworn to Jim that nothing short of battle, murder or sudden
death should induce me to move. I'm afraid I can't reasonably describe
your coming as any of these, so I must remain a fixture. It's Jimmy's
rest cure."

He reached out his hand to Daisy, who took it in both her own. "My
poor dear Nick!" she said, and stooping impulsively kissed him on the
forehead.

"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 ass," said Nick. "How
long has Muriel been engaged to Grange?"

Daisy started at the sudden question.

"It's all right," Nick assured 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 XXX

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 shore 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 assist.

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.

She understood the precise meaning of Nick's laugh. She even for a
moment wanted to laugh herself. "Thank you. I should like to," she
said.

Nick nodded and turned aside. "Olga, stop capering," he ordered, "and
drive me home."

Olga obeyed him promptly, with the gaiety of a squirrel. As Nick
seated himself by her side, Muriel saw her turn impulsively and rub
her cheek against his shoulder. It gave her a queer little tingling
shock to see the child's perfect confidence in him. But then--but
then--Olga had never looked on horror, had never seen the devil leap
out in naked fury upon her hero's face.

They waited to let the car go first, Olga proudly grasping the wheel;
then, trotting briskly, followed in its wake.

Muriel had an uneasy feeling that Blake wanted to apologise, and she
determined that he should not have the opportunity. Each time that
he gave any sign of wishing to draw nearer to her, she touched her
horse's flank. Something in the nature of a revelation had come to
her during that brief halt by the roadside. For the first time she
had caught a glimpse, plain and unvarnished, of the actual man that
inhabited the giant's frame, and it had given her an odd, disturbing
suspicion that the strength upon which she leaned was in simple fact
scarcely equal to her own.

The way to Redlands lay through leafy woodlands through which here
and there the summer sea gleamed blue. Turning in at the open gates,
Muriel uttered an exclamation of delight. She seemed to have suddenly
entered fairyland. The house, long, low, rambling, roofed with thatch,
stood at the end of a winding drive that was bordered on both sides
by a blaze of rhododendron flowers. Down below her on the left was a
miniature glen from which arose the tinkle of running water. On her
right the trees grew thickly, completely shutting out the road.

"Oh, Blake!" she exclaimed. "What a perfect paradise!"

"Like it?" said Nick; and with a start she saw him coolly step out
from a shadowy path behind them and close the great iron gate.

Impulsively she pulled up and slipped to the ground. "Take my horse,
Blake," she said. "I must run down to that stream."

He obeyed her, not very willingly, and Nick with a chuckle turned and
plunged after her down the narrow path. "Go straight ahead!" he called
back. "Olga is waiting for you at the house."

He came up with Muriel on the edge of the fairy stream. Her face was
flushed and her eyes nervous, but she met him bravely. She had known
in her heart that he would follow. As he stopped beside her, she
turned with a little desperate laugh and held out her hand.

"Is it peace?" she said rather breathlessly.

She felt his fingers, tense as wire, close about her own. "Seems like
it," he said. "What are you afraid of? Me?"

She could not meet his look. But the necessity for some species of
understanding pressed upon her. She wanted unspeakably to conciliate
him.

"I want to be friends with you, Nick," she said, "if you will let me."

"What for?" said Nick sharply.

She was silent. She could not tell him that her sure defence had
crumbled at a touch. Somehow she was convinced that he knew it
already.

"You never wanted such a thing before," he said. "You certainly
weren't hankering after it the last time we met."

Her cheeks burned at the memory. Again she felt ashamed. With a great
effort she forced herself to speak with a certain frankness.

"I am afraid," she said--"I have thought since--that I was rather
heartless that day. The fact was, I was taken by surprise. But I am
sorry now, Nick. I am very sorry."

Her tone was unconsciously piteous. Surely he must see that if they
were to meet often, as inevitably they must, some sort of agreement
between them was imperative. She must feel stable ground beneath her
feet. Their intercourse could not be one perpetual passage of arms.
Flesh and blood could never endure it.

But Nick did not apparently view the matter in the same light. "Pray
don't be sorry," he airily begged her. "I quite understood. I never
take offence where none is intended, and not always where it is. So
dismiss the matter from your mind with all speed. There is not the
smallest occasion for regret."

He meant to elude her, she saw, and she turned from him without
another word. There was to be no understanding then, no friendly
feeling, no peace of mind. She had trusted to his generosity, and it
was quite clear that he had no intention of being generous.

As they walked by a mossy pathway towards the house, they talked upon
indifferent things. But the girl's heart was very bitter within
her. She would have given almost anything to have flung back his
hospitality in his grinning, triumphant face, and have departed with
her outraged pride to the farthest corner of the earth.

CHAPTER XXXI

THE EAGLE HOVERS

Luncheon in the low, old-fashioned dining-room at Redlands with its
windows facing the open sea, with Olga beaming at the head of the
table, would have been a peaceful and pleasant meal, had Muriel's
state of mind allowed her to enjoy it. But Nick's treatment of her
overture had completely banished all enjoyment for her. She forced
herself to eat and to appear unconcerned, but she was quivering
inwardly with a burning sense of resentment. She was firmly determined
that she would never be alone with him again. He had managed by those
few scoffing words of his to arouse in her all the bitterness of which
she was capable. If she had feared him before, she hated him now with
the whole force of her nature.

He seemed to be blissfully unconscious of her hostility and played the
part of host with complete ease of manner. Long before the meal was
over, Grange had put aside his sullenness, and they were conversing
together as comrades.

Nick had plenty to say. He spoke quite openly of his illness, and
declared himself to have completely recovered from it. "Even Jim has
ceased his gruesome threats," he said cheerily. "There will be no more
lopping of branches this season. Just as well, for I chance to have
developed an affection for what is left."

"You're going back to the Regiment, I suppose?" Blake questioned.

"No, he isn't," thrust in Olga, and was instantly frowned upon by
Nick.

"Speak when you're spoken to, little girl! That's a question you are
not qualified to answer. I'm on half-pay at present, and I haven't
made up my mind."

"I should quit in your place," Grange remarked, with his eyes on the
dazzling sea.

"No doubt you would," Nick responded dryly. "And what should you
advise, Muriel?"

The question was unexpected, but she had herself in hand, and answered
it instantly. "I certainly shouldn't advise you to quit."

He raised his eyebrows. "Might one ask why?"

She was quite ready for him, inspired by an overmastering longing
to hurt him if that were possible. "Because if you gave up your
profession, you would be nothing but a vacuum. If the chance to
destroy life were put out of your reach, you would simply cease to
exist."

She spoke rapidly, her voice pitched very low. She was trembling all
over, and her hands were clenched under the table to hide it.

The laugh with which Nick received her words jarred intolerably upon
her. She heard nothing in it but deliberate cruelty.

"Great Lucifer!" he said. "You have got me under the microscope with
a vengeance. But you can't see through me, you know. I have a reverse
side. Hadn't you better turn me over and look at that? There may be
sorcery and witchcraft there as well."

There might be. She could well have imagined it. But these were lesser
things in which she had no concern. She turned his thrust aside with
disdain.

"I am not sufficiently interested," she said. "The little I know is
enough."

"Well hit!" chuckled Nick. "I retire from the fray, discomfited. Olga
_mia_, I wish you would find the cigars. You know where they are."

Olga sprang to do his bidding. Having handed the box to Grange she
came to Nick and stood beside him while she cut and lighted a cigar
for him.

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