Over the Blue Mountains (19 page)

He seemed to want to stay until the doctor could reassure him about Verity, though all of them were satisfied in their own minds that he was not at all to blame for the accident. Verity herself even confirmed this, with a faint smile through her tears.

And presently, when the doctor came, he was able to assure them that Aunt Katherine’s estimate of the damage had been more or less correct, and that except for a broken arm and a considerable amount of shock, Verity was not in very serious condition.

“She’ll be all right as soon as she sees her young man safe and sound,” he told Juliet, as she accompanied him to the front door after he had set Verity’s arm and ordered her off to bed.

“I’m sure she will.”

Even now, Juliet could not suppress a feeling of uneasy wonder at the realization that her cousin was so deeply, almost painfully fond of Max when, all the time, she herself had supposed Verity to be regarding him merely as an acceptable “catch.”

It only shows how utterly mistaken one can be,
she told herself severely. But that did little to ease the dull ache at her heart when she thought that it would be for Verity to welcome back Max with relief and rapture, and for the others—like herself, for instance—simply to express decent friendliness and pleasure over the return of both Max and the pleasant but relatively unimportant Elmer Lawson.

Half an hour later, both men returned—tired and dirty, it was true, but in excellent spirits over their successful firefighting. Both of them were rather sobered by the account of Verity’s accident, and Max went immediately to see her.

She wept afresh, it seemed, at the sight of him and, as he told Juliet afterward, showed all the signs of being in an almost alarmingly low nervous state.

“It’s just the shock,” Juliet said doubtfully.

“I suppose so.” Max looked unusually troubled. “She’s had a lot to upset her in the past few weeks, of course. It may be that the change in the family fortunes really went much deeper with her than I had supposed.” He looked vaguely remorseful. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have persuaded her to work for the time being in Bathurst.”

“But I think she was enjoying that, Max. She seemed happier in Bathurst than at any other time since I’ve known her.” “That’s true. But for her to cry like this now—it’s so unlike her,” he exclaimed helplessly.

Curiously enough, it was the cheerful, matter-of-fact Elmer Lawson who stopped her. He went and stood in the doorway of her room and grinned at her.

“Come on, Verity. Snap out of it,” he urged. “Good heavens, girl, if we’d known you could put on an act like this, we’d have taken you to the fire with us. You’d have put it out in no time.”

She laughed a little through her tears then. And, although she said fretfully that she never wanted so much as to hear of a bushfire again, she did begin to cheer up slightly.

“But I’m worried about her,” Max said, as they all sat around the table and ate an incredibly late supper. “I certainly don’t like the idea of leaving her here. It’s the fire that has made her so nervous, and if there were any further scare it might do her a lot of harm.”

“She
is
showing off a little, of course,” Aunt Katherine said, in the tone of one who not only understood her elder daughter, but also understood the value of an occasional piece of “showing off.”

“No. She is genuinely distressed,” Max objected indignantly.

“Suppose you let me take her into Bathurst with me, Mrs. Burlett,” Elmer suggested. “I know my mother will look after her with pleasure, and she will be right away from anything that might remind her of the fire.”

“But you’ve done so much for us already,” exclaimed Aunt Katherine. “I think we’re all making rather too much of this. She may be almost all right tomorrow.”

“No, I don’t think we’re making too much of it.” Max sounded obstinate. “And I agree that Verity needs a complete change of scene. But I don’t think Bathurst is the answer—though thanks, Lawson, for the offer. My suggestion is that I take her with me to Adelaide, and that you come, too, Mrs. Burlett. She couldn’t have a more complete change of scene—and she will have the distraction of seeing her future home and all the interest of deciding how she wants to have things there.”

“My dear Max!” Aunt Katherine looked astonished and, curiously enough, not particularly enthusiastic. “But that’s a considerable undertaking—and a great deal of unnecessary expense and—anyway, I don’t think I want to leave my home here, just as I’m beginning to settle into it. No, no, you’re just indulging Verity a bit too far.”

“It’s not a question of indulging her. I—” Max colored faintly and looked more put out than Juliet had ever seen him look “—I feel rather responsible for pushing Verity into a life that may have been too abruptly difficult for her. I want to do whatever is best for her now, and I think this is the answer.”

“But I don’t want to make the journey to Adelaide,” Aunt Katherine stated simply, as though that finished all argument. Max looked baffled and annoyed.

“Take Juliet,” Uncle Edmund said suddenly and quite unexpectedly. “She’s earned a little relaxation if anyone has. And it’s a chance for her to see another part of the country. If you want to indulge Verity—and I’m not sure that you aren’t right—take Juliet along, too. They’ll be company for each other.”

“Well—” Max turned and looked doubtfully at Juliet “—would you like to come?”

Manlike, he was still seeing events in the light of the trouble there had once been between Juliet and Verity. (Equally manlike, Uncle Edmund did not realize that there had ever been any trouble.)

To Juliet, who thought that the changed relationship between herself and her cousin must be as obvious to others at it was to herself, Max’s question was, to say the least, superfluous.

“Like to come? Why, I—I—” She stammered and blushed in her delight and eagerness. “Of course I’d adore to come! If—” she turned to Aunt Katherine “—if you can spare me, that is.”

Her aunt laughed, half touched by Juliet’s eagerness, half annoyed by the suggestion that she might have become indispensable.

“My dear Juliet, I have managed without you for most of my life. I daresay I could do so for another couple of weeks, or whatever it is,” she said dryly.

“Then—” Juliet turned a face full of delight on Max “—then, if Verity says yes—”

“If Verity says yes, it is settled,” he agreed with an indulgent smile.

And, as he smiled at her like that, Juliet suddenly saw the danger—the ineffably sweet danger—of going with him on this trip. True, she would only be the necessary companion for her cousin. But she would see him every day—in his own home. The feeling, which she had at last recognized, and against which she must inevitably struggle, would have fresh delight and experience to feed upon.

I
ought never to have said I would go,
she thought in dismay. And, even as she thought it, she could hardly contain her delight at the realization that she was going.

She pretended, or course, that it was the idea of seeing so much more of Australia that enchanted her, and she talked to her aunt about this wonderful chance of seeing Adelaide and Max’s home, which lay about forty of fifty miles outside it. She even emphasized that the whole plan depended on Verity’s acceptance of it, and added bravely, “If she specially wants you to go instead, you will, won’t you, Aunt Katherine?”

But her heart had really accepted the all-important fact that she would be with Max and be, to some small extent, his concern for a few happy weeks longer.

Next day Verity seemed considerably better and quite able to discuss the scheme as a practical possibility to be put into action during the next few days. She hesitated a moment before she accepted Max’s offer, but over the question of Juliet’s coming, too, she showed no hesitation whatever.

“Yes. I’d like Juliet to come,” she said briefly and emphatically.

“Rather than Aunt Katherine?” Juliet felt bound to ask.

“Oh, yes, of course. Unless mother is panting to come,” Verity replied, with more than her usual degree of regard for other people’s wishes.

“She would rather stay at home,” Juliet explained thankfully. “She is growing fond of this place—says it is like the house where she used to live as a little girl—and doesn’t apparently want to leave here unless she has to.”

“Well, she doesn’t have to. I’d rather have you, Juliet.”

Juliet felt faintly flattered, though still a little mystified to explain her sudden popularity. However, she wisely forbore to ask questions and merely set to work to make all the preparations.

Because of Max’s previous plans, it was necessary to make their departure as soon as possible and, once the doctor had pronounced Verity well enough to travel—indeed, he approved the whole scheme very heartily—Juliet found herself extremely busy.

One visit, however, she felt she must allow herself. Although she had ascertained by telephone that Martin was not dangerously ill, she was determined to go and see him at the hospital before she left Borralung. And on the evening before their departure, she walked into the little town as soon as it was cool enough to contemplate so much exertion.

She could, of course, quite easily have asked Max to drive her in. But she wanted to have no special restrictions of time or circumstance on this visit to Martin. And, in any case, she had an odd feeling that she would rather not use Max in any way for the purpose of going to see Martin.

The small hospital was a bright, rather compact one-story building, to Juliet’s eyes much more like an emergency hospital back home than the many-storied collection of wards that one usually associated with the word hospital.

However, as soon as she stepped inside the door, she was aware of brisk, quiet efficiency, and the word emergency retreated from her mind.

Martin was in a light, pleasant little ward with three other patients, all of whom had visitors that evening, and, as she stood in the doorway and surveyed the scene, just a minute before he knew she was there, Juliet was overwhelmingly impressed by the air of quiet, lonely melancholy about him.

He looked ill, though not shockingly ill. But, far more than that, he looked a man without purpose or expectation.

Almost,
thought Juliet with a terrible pang of pity,
as though he has no past and no future.

Then he saw her, and his face lit up, so that she thought,
Why, how handsome Martin is when he smiles like that!

“Juliet!” he took both her hands, though one of his own was bandaged. “How good of you to come. I ... hoped you would this evening.”

She wanted to ask, “Why this evening?” But something told her that he hoped each evening. And she sat down by the bed, with one hand still in his, and smiled at him with warm affection.

Though she questioned his closely, he made light of his injuries, and said it was “just a question of keeping quiet for a week or two.”

“But you’ll come and see me sometimes, won’t you, Juliet?” he added.

An unreasonable feeling of guilt seized her. “As a matter of fact, I’m going away, Martin...”

“Going away?” He looked startled and dismayed.

“Oh, only for a short while. A week or two—but I’m afraid that is while you will still be here. I have to go tomorrow.” She explained about Verity and the proposed trip to Adelaide, and she knew, though his expression hardly changed, that he wished she were not going with Max. “But I’ll—I’ll get Penelope to come in and see you sometimes,” she promised eagerly.

“The schoolgirl who is so like you?” He smiled slightly, and she thought he approved the form of consolation offered. “I’ll be glad to see her if she has time.”

“I think she would be pleased to come,” Juliet said sincerely. “She has asked several times about you and seems to like you, Martin.”

“She is your favorite cousin, isn’t she?”

“Oh, very much so. Though Andrew is a nice boy, and, to tell the truth, Verity has improved enormously lately. For one thing—” Juliet hesitated and then, feeling that in some way it was good for her to put the truth into words “—I’ve found that she is truly fond of Max. She was so wretched and terrified when she thought he was in danger—it was impossible for her to hide how much he meant to her.”

‘‘And were you—glad to discover that, Juliet?” Martin looked straight at her as he said that.

“I ...” She glanced down at their clasped hands, ‘‘Why, of course, for Max’s sake...”

“I was thinking of it from the point of view of your own sake,” he said quietly.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she murmured quickly. And then there was a long silence between them, and only the sound of the other people talking in different parts of the room.

It was so strange to be with others and yet so completely isolated. But, in a way, it made it easier that other people were there, although out of earshot or immersed in their own affairs, when he said, “You’re very much in love with him, yourself, aren’t you, Juliet?”

“Oh, Martin—” She caught her breath on a quick sigh. “One can’t let oneself think that of another
girl’s man. One just ... shuts
one’s mind against it. ”

“But not one’s heart,” he said. “My dear, I knew from the first time I saw you with him that you loved him.”