The Moving Finger | Page 4

smitten with
remorse. What good would this love ever do her?
"You poor child!" he said. "You poor little girl. I believe you do. Don't
do it, Nellie--don't be such a fool."
"Why?" she asked simply.
"Why? Because I shall do you no good."
"But I love you," she whimpered, "an' you won't harm me."
"No, by ---- I won't." And for the moment perhaps he meant to keep his
oath, for he half rose, as if there and then he would have left her.
Perhaps it was too much to expect--all his companions feared him, the
outside world hunted him, only this woman believed in him and loved
him; and if it is a great thing to be loved, it is a still greater thing to be
believed in and trusted. And so when she put her arms around him and
drew him back he yielded.
"It is your own fault, Nell, your own fault--don't blame me."
"No," she said, satisfied because he had stayed. "I won't--never." Then
she ran her fingers through his hair again.
"I saw a gray hair in the sunshine," she said.
"A gray hair--a dozen--a hundred. My life is calculated to raise a few

gray hairs."
"But why--?"
"Why? Why--once on the downward path you can't stop, my dear.
However the path has led me to your arms, so common politeness
should make me commend the road by which I came."
"You are always good."
"Good! great Heavens! No--only a silly girl would think that. Was I
ever good? I'm sure I don't know. If I was a woman soon knocked it out
of me."
"A woman! Did you love her?"
"Love her--of course I loved her."
"More 'n you do me?"
"More than I do you!--You're only a little girl--and she--she was a
woman of thirty, and she just wound me round her fingers,--her!"
The tears gathered in the girl's eyes--only one thing her simple soul
hungered after--she wanted this man's love--she wanted to be allowed
to love him in return.
"She didn't love you like me," she said.
"She didn't love me at all, it was I loved her, the young fool. That's the
way of the world. Come, Nell, don't cry--that s the bitterness of it.
Where's the good of crying? Where's the good of loving me? I wasted
all the love I had to give on a woman, who made a plaything of me--oh,
about the time you were born I suppose. That's the way of the world,
my dear; oh, you 'll learn as you grow older."
"Ben Fisher," said Nellie slowly--"Ben Fisher, Gran says, loves me, an'
'ud marry me. An' he's Macartney's boss man."

The man sprang to his feet and caught her roughly in his arms. He hurt
her, but she did not mind; such fierce wooing was better than the
indifference which had seemed to mark his manner before. His hot
breath was on her face, and in his eyes was an angry gleam, but she
read love there too, and was content.
"You, Nellie--you--do you want Ben Fisher? If you go to him--if you
have any truck with him--I 'll kill you, Nell."
She closed her eyes and drooped her head on to his shoulder.
"Jes' so," she said, "you can."
"Nell, Nell," called her grandmother's voice from above. "Nell, you
come up this minute. Drat the girl, where's she got to? You come along,
miss, and help to get supper. There's the bread to set, for Macartney's
mob 'll be here early to-morrow."
James Newton held the girl for a moment with a merciless hand.
"Nell, I 'll kill you."
She smiled at him through her tears, then stooped and kissed the hand
that held her, and as he loosened his grasp, flew up the embankment
and joined her grandmother.
Next day the Durham lads and Gentleman Jim had disappeared. It
seemed a wonder in that flat open plain where they could disappear to,
but the creek had many windings, and its bed was so wide and so far
beneath the surface of the plain, there was ample room for men and
horses to hide there.
About three in the afternoon, a lowing of cattle and cracking of
stockwhips announced the arrival of Macartney's mob, and the beasts,
wild with thirst, for the way had been long and hot, and the waters were
dried up for miles back, rushed tumultously down into the waterhole,
trampling one another in their eagerness to get to the water. The men
could no nothing but look on helplessly, and finally Fisher, a tall young

fellow with that sad look on his bearded face, which sometimes comes
of much living alone, left the mob to his men, and flinging his reins on
his horse's neck went towards the hut.
Nellie stood