The Top of the World, Ethel May Dell [best book series to read .txt] 📗

/> "Oh, not just that," she said. "I loved him so. I couldn't help it. I--had to love him."
He was silent for a few seconds, and the wonder stirred within her if perhaps even now he could misunderstand her. And then he spoke, his voice very low, curiously uneven. "I know. I loved him, too. That was--the hell of it--for me."
"Oh, Burke--darling!" she said.
He drew a hard breath, controlling himself with an effort. "I'd have cut off my right hand to save him, but it was no good. It came to me afterwards--that you were the one who might have done it. But it was too late then. Besides--besides--" he spoke as if something within him battled fiercely for utterance--"I couldn't have endured it--standing by. Not you--not you!"
She put up a hand, and stroked his face. "I belonged to you from the first moment I saw you," she said.
"Sylvia!" He moved abruptly, taking her by the shoulders so that he might look into her eyes. "That is--the truth?" he said.
She met his look steadfastly. "Of course it is the truth!" she said. "Could I tell you anything else?"
He held her still. "But--Sylvia----"
Her hands were clasped against his breast. "It is the truth," she said again. "I didn't realize it myself at first. It came to me--quite suddenly--that day of the sand-storm--the day Guy saved your life."
"Ah!" he said.
She went on with less assurance. "It frightened me--when I knew. I was so afraid you would find out."
"But why?" he said. "Why?"
She shook her head, and suddenly her eyes fell before his. She looked almost childishly ashamed.
"Won't you tell me why?" he said.
She made a small, impulsive movement of protest. "I didn't--quite--trust you," she said.
"But you knew I loved you!" he said.
She shook her head again with vehemence. "I didn't know--I didn't know! How could I? Why, you have never told me so--even now."
"Great heavens!" he said, as if aghast.
Very oddly his unexpected discomfiture restored her confidence. She faced him again. "It doesn't matter now," she said. "You needn't begin at this stage. I've found out for myself--as you might have done long ago if you hadn't been quite blind. But I'm rather glad, after all, that you didn't, because--you learnt to trust me without. It was dear of you to trust me, Burke. I don't know how you managed it."
"I would trust you to the world's end--blindfold," he said. "I know you."
"Yes, now. But you didn't then. When you found me in the hut--with Guy," her voice quivered a little--"you didn't know--then--that I was with him because he was too ill to be there alone."
"And to protect him from me," Burke said.
"Yes; that too." She laid her cheek suddenly against his hand. "Forgive me for that!" she said.
He drew her head back to his shoulder. "No--you had reason enough for fearing me," he said. "God alone knows what brought you back to me."
She leaned against him with a little sigh. "Yes, He knows," she said softly, "just as He knows what made you stay behind to die alone. It was the same reason with us both. Don't you understand?"
His arms grew close about her. His lips pressed her forehead. "Yes," he said. "Yes, I understand."
They spoke later of Kieff and the evil influence he had exerted over Guy.
"The man was his evil genius," Burke said. "But I couldn't keep him away when the boy was damaged and there was no one else to help." He paused a moment. "He was the only man in the world I was ever afraid of," he said then. "He had an uncanny sort of strength that I couldn't cope with. And he was such a fiend. When he tried to get you into his toils--frankly, I was terrified. He had dragged down so many,"
"And you think--Guy--might have been different but for him?" Sylvia questioned.
"Yes. I believe I could have kept him straight if it hadn't been for Kieff. He and Piet Vreiboom were thick as thieves, and between them the boy got pulled under. I was beat, and Kelly, too."
"Mr. Kelly!" Sylvia gave a slight start; that name reminded her. "Burke, do you know--I owe him money? I've got to tell you about that."
She paused in rather painful hesitation; it was hard to tell him even now what she had sacrificed so much to hide.
But he stopped her. "No. You needn't. I know all about it. I put Kelly up to the job. The money was mine."
"Burke!" She stared at him in astonishment. "You--knew!"
He nodded. "I guessed a little. And I made Donovan do the rest. You were so upset about it. Something had to be done."
"Oh, Burke!" she said again.
He went on. "Guy told me all about it too--only a little while ago. He made a clean breast of everything. He was--awfully penitent. Look here! We'll forget all that, won't we? Promise me you'll forget it!" He spoke rapidly, just as Guy would have spoken. She saw that he was deeply moved. "I was a devil ever to doubt you. I want to be sure--to be certain sure--that you'll never think of it again--that you'll forget it all--as if it had never been."
The earnest appeal in his eyes almost startled her. It brought the quick tears to her own. She gave him both her hands. "I shall only remember--one thing," she said. "And that is--your great goodness to me--from beginning to end."
He made a sound of dissent, but she would not hear.
"I am going to remember that always, for it is the biggest thing in my life. And now, Burke, please tell me--for I've got to know--are we quite ruined?"
He gave her an odd look. "What made you think of that?"
She coloured a little. "I don't know. I have been thinking about it a great deal lately. Anyhow," she met his look almost defiantly, "I've a right to think of it, haven't I? We're partners."
"You've a right to do anything that seems good to you," he said. "I am not absolutely down and out, but I'm pretty near it. There isn't much left."
She squeezed his hands hard, hearing the news with no hint of dismay. Her eyes were shining with the old high courage. "Never mind, partner! We'll pull up again," she said. "We're a sound working proposition, aren't we?"
He drew her suddenly and closely into his arms. "My own brave girl!" he said.
* * * * *


Bill Merston came over in the evening, summoned by one of Burke's Kaffirs, and they buried Guy under the shadow of the _kopje_ in what in a few more days would be a paradise of flowers. The sun was setting far away in an opalescent glow of mauve and pink and pearl. And the beauty of it went straight to Sylvia's heart.
She listened to the Burial Service, read by Merston in his simple sincere fashion, and she felt as if all grief or regret were utterly out of place. She and Burke, standing hand in hand, had been lifted above earthly things. And again there came to her the thrilling certainty that Guy was safe. She wondered if, in his own words, he had forgotten it all and started afresh.
Merston could not stay for the night. He looked at Sylvia rather questioningly at parting.
She smiled in answer as she gave him her hand. "Give my love to Matilda!" she said. "Say I am coming to see her soon!"
"Is that all?" he said.
She nodded. "Yes, that's all. No--one thing more!" She detained him a moment. "Thank her for all she has done for me, and tell her I have found the right mixture at last! She will understand, or--if she doesn't--I will give her the recipe when I come."
He frowned at her with masculine curiosity. "What is it for? A new kind of pickles?"
She turned from him. Her face was deeply flushed. "No. It's a thing called happiness. Don't forget to tell her! Good-bye!^
"Then in heaven's name, come soon!" said Merston, as he mounted his horse.
* * * * *


When he was gone, they mounted the _kopje_ together, still hand in hand.
The way was steep, but they never rested till they reached the top. The evening light was passing, but the sky was full of stars. The _spruit_ was a swift-flowing river below them. They heard the rush of its waters--a solemn music that seemed to fill the world.
Sylvia turned her face to the north, and the long, dim range of hills beyond the _veldt_.
"We will go beyond some day," Burke said.
She held his hand very fast. "I don't mind where we go, partner, so long as we go together," she said.
He drew something out of his pocket and held it out to her. "I've got to give you this," he said.
She looked at him in surprise. "Burke! What is it?"
"It's something Guy left to you," he said, "with his love. I promised to give it you to-night. Take it, won't you?"
She took it, a small object wrapped in paper, strangely heavy for its size. "What is it?" she said again.
"Open it!" he said.
She complied, trembling a little. "Oh--Burke!" she said.
It lay in her hand, a rough stone like a small crystal, oddly shaped. The last of the evening light caught it, and it gleamed as if with living fire.
"The diamond!" she whispered.
"Yes--the diamond." Burke spoke very quietly. "He gave it to me just before he died. 'Tell her she is not to keep it!' he said. 'She is to sell it. I won it for her, and she is to make use of it.'"
"But--it is yours really," Sylvia said.
"No. It is yours." Burke spoke with insistence. "But I think he is right. You had better sell it. Vreiboom and some of Hoffstein's gang are after it. They don't know yet who won it. Donovan covered Guy's tracks pretty cleverly. But they'll find out. It isn't a thing to keep."
She turned to him impulsively. "You take it, partner!" she said. "It was won with your money, and no one has a greater right to it."
"It is yours," he insisted.
She smiled. "Very well. If it's mine, I give it to you; and if it's yours you share it with me. We are partners, aren't we? Isn't that what Guy intended?"
He smiled also. "Well--perhaps."
She put it into his hand and closed his fingers over it. "There's no perhaps about it. We'll take it back to Donovan, and make him sell it. And