Then the man, an anxious-faced Englishman, gave me some information on his own account.Mr.Lawson was having one of his bad turns.It would pass away in a day or two, but till it had gone he was fit for nothing.He advised me to see Mr.Jobson, the factor, who would look to my entertainment in his master's absence.
Jobson arrived before luncheon, and the sight of him was the first satisfactory thing about Welgevonden.He was a big, gruff Scot from Roxburghshire, engaged, no doubt, by Lawson as a duty to his Border ancestry.He had short grizzled whiskers, a weatherworn face, and a shrewd, calm blue eye.I knew now why the place was in such perfect order.
We began with sport, and Jobson explained what I could have in the way of fishing and shooting.His exposition was brief and business-like, and all the while I could see his eye searching me.It was clear that he had much to say on other matters than sport.
I told him that I had come here with Lawson three years before, when he chose the site.Jobson continued to regard me curiously.
"I've heard tell of ye from Mr.Lawson.Ye're an old friend of his, I understand.""The oldest," I said."And I am sorry to find that the place does not agree with him.Why it doesn't I cannot imagine, for you look fit enough.Has he been seedy for long?""It comes and it goes," said Mr.Jobson."Maybe once a month he has a bad turn.But on the whole it agrees with him badly.
He's no' the man he was when I first came here."Jobson was looking at me very seriously and frankly.I risked a question.
"What do you suppose is the matter?"
He did not reply at once, but leaned forward and tapped my knee.
"I think it's something that doctors canna cure.Look at me, sir.I've always been counted a sensible man, but if I told you what was in my head you would think me daft.But I have one word for you.Bide till to-night is past and then speir your question.Maybe you and me will be agreed."The factor rose to go.As he left the room he flung me back a remark over his shoulder--"Read the eleventh chapter of the First Book of Kings."After luncheon I went for a walk.First I mounted to the crown of the hill and feasted my eyes on the unequalled loveliness of the view.I saw the far hills in Portuguese territory, a hundred miles away, lifting up thin blue fingers into the sky.The wind blew light and fresh, and the place was fragrant with a thousand delicate scents.Then I descended to the vale, and followed the stream up through the garden.Poinsettias and oleanders were blazing in coverts, and there was a paradise of tinted water-lilies in the slacker reaches.I saw good trout rise at the fly, but I did not think about fishing.I was searching my memory for a recollection which would not come.By-and-by Ifound myself beyond the garden, where the lawns ran to the fringe of Ashtaroth's Grove.
It was like something I remembered in an old Italian picture.
Only, as my memory drew it, it should have been peopled with strange figures-nymphs dancing on the sward, and a prick-eared faun peeping from the covert.In the warm afternoon sunlight it stood, ineffably gracious and beautiful, tantalising with a sense of some deep hidden loveliness.Very reverently I walked between the slim trees, to where the little conical tower stood half in the sun and half in shadow.Then I noticed something new.Round the tower ran a narrow path, worn in the grass by human feet.
There had been no such path on my first visit, for I remembered the grass growing tall to the edge of the stone.Had the Kaffirs made a shrine of it, or were there other and strange votaries?
When I returned to the house I found Travers with a message for me.Mr.Lawson was still in bed, but he would like me to go to him.I found my friend sitting up and drinking strong tea,--a bad thing, I should have thought, for a man in his condition.Iremember that I looked about the room for some sign of the pernicious habit of which I believed him a victim.But the place was fresh and clean, with the windows wide open, and, though Icould not have given my reasons, I was convinced that drugs or drink had nothing to do with the sickness.
He received me more civilly, but I was shocked by his looks.
There were great bags below his eyes, and his skin had the wrinkled puffy appearance of a man in dropsy.His voice, too, was reedy and thin.Only his great eyes burned with some feverish life.
"I am a shocking bad host," he said, "but I'm going to be still more inhospitable.I want you to go away.I hate anybody here when I'm off colour.""Nonsense," I said; "you want looking after.I want to know about this sickness.Have you had a doctor?"He smiled wearily."Doctors are no earthly use to me.There's nothing much the matter I tell you.I'll be all right in a day or two, and then you can come back.I want you to go off with Jobson and hunt in the plains till the end of the week.It will be better fun for you, and I'll feel less guilty."Of course I pooh-poohed the idea, and Lawson got angry."Damn it, man," he cried, "why do you force yourself on me when Idon't want you? I tell you your presence here makes me worse.
In a week I'll be as right as the mail and then I'll be thankful for you.But get away now; get away, I tell you."I saw that he was fretting himself into a passion."All right,"I said soothingly; "Jobson and I will go off hunting.But I am horribly anxious about you, old man."He lay back on his pillows."You needn't trouble.I only want a little rest.Jobson will make all arrangements, and Travers will get you anything you want.Good-bye."I saw it was useless to stay longer, so I left the room.Outside I found the anxious-faced servant "Look here," I said, "Mr.
Lawson thinks I ought to go, but I mean to stay.Tell him I'm gone if he asks you.And for Heaven's sake keep him in bed."The man promised, and I thought I saw some relief in his face.
