# Outlaw and Lawmaker/Chapter 12

CHAPTER XII.
BEELZEBUB'S COLOURS.
The first race was over when Elsie and Blake reached the course. What could they have been talking about during that homeward ride, to make them linger so long? She had a bunch of wild jasmine in her bodice, which he had gathered for her, and she had promised him more dances than she could remember.
Lady Horace looked distressed. "Oh, Elsie, don't flirt with that man," she whispered to her sister, repeating the former frightened adjuration. "I know that it will bring you harm. Don't make poor Frank unhappy."
"You seem to think a great deal more of Frank's happiness, or unhappiness, than you do of mine, Ina," said Elsie poutingly. "It's enough to make Horace jealous."
Lady Horace flushed deeply. "Don't say that; don't ever say that," she exclaimed. "You have no right to say such a thing."
"Horace is jealous, is he?" exclaimed Elsie. "Well, that's better at any rate than being sulky over his dinner, or running after that horrid Mrs. Allanby."
Lord Horace, however, certainly showed no signs of jealousy. He was in very high spirits, for he had won his first bet, and he had tacked himself to pretty Mrs. Allanby, who was delighted to have a chance of revenging herself on Elsie and her belongings. Blake avoided Elsie for the rest of the day.
The girl wondered why, and showed that she did not care, by flirting extravagantly with every man who came near her. She gave Frank Hallett no opportunity for a tête-à,-tête, and made Dominic Trant radiant by accepting his very pronounced attentions, with every sign of pleasure. It was Dominic Trant who sat next her at luncheon, and who mounted her again when luncheon was over. Dominic Trant was in high feather, for he had won two races, and expected to win several more.
​The Luya Cup Race, the great event of the day, came after luncheon. Each horse was ridden by its owner, and most of the near stations and of the larger selections on the Luya were represented in the entrances. It was supposed that Frank Hallett would be the winner, on Gipsy Girl, but a good many backed Trant. Elsie wondered whether Blake intended to run Osman, and to ride him. It was not till the last moment that she was certain. Just before the horses came into line he rode out on a beautiful black, which was certainly Osman, only that, equally certain, Osman had no white star on his forehead. She remembered this distinctly. Blake looked very well in his crimson and black colours. He seemed a part of the horse, and the fiery creature answered to his touch as though there were a complete sympathy between them.
The race was an exciting one. Frank Hallett took the lead with Gipsy Girl, but half way round Dominic Trant passed him, Blake followed close. The others were in a bunch, Lord Horace keeping up pretty well, but gradually slackening, and one or two very soon giving up altogether. Again Gipsy Girl got the lead. It was evident that Trant's horse was flagging, and that Blake was holding in. But a quarter of a mile from the winning post, the black shot forward. For a little way he and Gipsy Girl were neck and neck. The pace was tremendous. Both men were bowed almost to the horses' necks. Gipsy Girl's sides were streaming, where Hallett had dug in his spurs. The black was scarcely blown. Close to the post he darted ahead, and Blake came in an easy winner.
There was a great deal of talk about the horse, which Elsie saw had been entered as Osman. As soon as the weighing and examination were over, his cloth was thrown on again, and Sam Shehan led him away from the course.
It was said that he had been stabled the night before in an old shepherd's hut across the river, and that Sam Shehan was so frightened of his being tampered with, that he and the half-castes had sat up all night to watch him.
When Blake came to the enclosure, where the Tunimba ​ladies had mostly stationed themselves, Elsie congratulated him very sweetly.
"I feel a particular and personal interest in Osman," she said, "since it was through him that I first made your acquaintance. But I have been so puzzled. I felt certain that he had no white mark on his forehead. I remember thinking that he looked quite uncanny in his blackness."
"You must have forgotten," said Blake quietly, and presently left her to go and talk to Mrs. Jem Hallett.
"I seem fated to receive your condolences on Mr. Blake's victories," said Frank Hallett. "He is always the triumphant hero."
He laughed as he spoke, but there was a shade of bitterness in his tone.
Elsie wore black and crimson that night. Lady Horace declared that people would think she did so on purpose, as a tribute to Blake, the winner, and tried to persuade her to put on an old white gown instead. But Elsie would not. "I did not know that they were Mr. Blake's colours," she answered. "And let people think what they like."
Dinner to-night was in a tent in the courtyard, for the dance was to he a more important affair than on the previous evening, and the woolshed was being prepared as a ballroom. Frank Hallett was very busy, when the ladies came out into the verandah, superintending the placing of Chinese lanterns, which were hung upon the bunya trees, and marked the way to the woolshed. Frank came up to Elsie. "Will you do something to please my mother? Will you let her see you in your ball dress? You know she never appears at this sort of thing."
"Of course I will, and I will come at once, or after dinner—whichever she likes best."
"Then will you come now? For the dear old lady goes to bed at nine o'clock, and we shall not have got over the speeches by then."
Elsie and he went out at the garden gate, and walked to old Mrs. Hallett's cottage, which was on the brow of the hill, overlooking the lagoon, not a stone's throw from the ​house. The old lady was in very feeble health, and lived the most retired life possible. She very rarely came to the big house, but Frank, who was devoted to his mother, spent the greater part of his evenings with her, and always lunched at the cottage when he was not out on the run. People watched them as they went across, and Elsie wondered what Blake would think, for she knew it would be said that this was a visit of an affianced pair. The thought made her cheeks burn, but gave her at the same time a little thrill of triumph, for she knew that Lady Garfit would be annoyed.
Mrs. Hallett was sitting in her verandah, looking at the sunset, which was gorgeous over Mount Luya, and watching the stir and bustle at the Head Station. She was a handsome old woman, with hard features and snow-white hair. She had a vacant smile, which contrasted oddly with her otherwise severe face. Her brain was weakened a little, and it was for this reason that she did not mix much with the world; moreover she was not fond of Mrs. Jem.
She stroked Elsie's dress, and looked at her with her blank smile, which was pathetic in its vacuity.
"You're a bonny creature," she said. "It's a pity you're so frivolous. I believe your sister is worth two of you."
"Mother!" exclaimed Frank.
"But you're quite right, Mrs. Hallett," said Elsie. "Ina is worth a hundred of me."
"It's a pity you let her marry that fliberty-gibbet of a lord," said Mrs. Hallett, "but you've been badly brought up, and that's what I'm always telling Frank. I remember your mother quite well, when your father was alive, and scab inspector on the Luya. She was a pretty woman too, and you're like her; but she hadn't a great deal of sense, and I think you take after her."
"Really, Mrs. Hallett, I think it is very unkind of you to bring me here to scold me, and abuse my mother," said Elsie with a laugh. "But now, won't you forgive me, and wish me a merry evening? See, I've brought you a rose."
The girl knelt down, and tendered her little offering with ​a bewitching humility, that made Frank Hallett adore her. "The old lady doesn't mean a word of it," he said, "and you're an angel, Miss Valliant."
"There are two kinds of angels," said Mrs. Hallett, "and you're in Beelzebub's colours, my dear. But you look lovely all the same, and I don't wonder that all the men are running after you. That's what Lady Garfit tells me."
"Oh, so the Garfits have been here to see you," said Elsie piqued. "Well, Rose Garfit is a practical and a substantial angel, and she ought to be just what you like."
"So she is. I like her better than you, but then Frank doesn't, my love, and that's the mischief. Lady Garfit says you're a flirt, and that you are getting yourself talked about with those Baròlin men. Now just come here, and stoop down close. I want to see something."
Elsie did as she told her. The old lady solemnly wiped her spectacles, and took out her handkerchief, and rubbed Elsie's rose-pink cheek.
"Lady Garfit says you're rouged."
"But you see that I'm not."
"There's no telling. Rose Garfit—no, it was Minnie Pryde, or Mrs. Jem said it—some of your Leichardt's Town girls crush up geranium leaves, and rub your cheeks with them, and it doesn't come off on the handkerchief."
"I'll go," cried Elsie rising. "And if I do rouge, and if I flirt, Mrs. Hallett, and if I'm horrid altogether, you're well rid of me. And I'm going back to Leichardt's Town very soon, and you won't see me till the spring, when we are all coming up to picnic at Baròlin Falls, and perhaps by then you'll have forgiven me."
She kissed her hand and bounded off the verandah, pulling her cloak over her head. Frank followed, but he was detained for a few moments by his mother. Blake was waiting at the entrance of the tent, having the start, and took Elsie into dinner, and Frank was vexed with his mother.
It was a long repast, made longer by the speeches. The health of Mr. and Mrs. Jem was drunk, and an appropriate speech was made by the oldest resident on the Luya, calling ​attention to the auspicious occasion, and wishing them a silver and a golden wedding. And there were many more toasts, and among them the health of Osman, winner of the Luya Cup; and the cup was filled with champagne, and handed from each to each, Blake himself drinking after Elsie's lips had touched the goblet.
"I drink to our first meeting," said he in a low tone, audible only to her.
The lanterns were all alight when they left the tent, and the musicians had already struck up in the woolshed. It was a curious and fairy-like scene, the array of coloured lamps, the solemn bunyas in the dimness of night, and in their density of foliage, almost like pyramids of green marble, the leaden lagoon reflecting the pale stars above and the red fires of the camp below, the shadowy expanse of plain, and the darker patches of scrub and bush, with the rugged mountain beyond—Luya—and the two needles of the Burrum, against the deep mysterious sky, dotted with its myriads of stars, and showing all the beautiful southern constellations. The moon had not risen yet, but its appearance could hardly add any greater glory to the night. Blake got Elsie a programme, and wrote his initials against various waltzes. Frank Hallett watched him doing this with envy and jealousy tearing at his heart. He was an outsider, one among the crowd of men who waited, as she stood on the steps of the woolshed, to ask her for a dance.
"Please let me pass," said Lady Garfit sourly, as she convoyed her daughter. "Mr. Frank Hallett, I am sure you will give your arm to Rose. Miss Valliant's would-be partners make quite a block in the gangway."
There was a general clearance.
"I beg your pardon," said Elsie innocently. "But you know, I can't help people asking me to dance, can I?"
Lady Garfit did not vouchsafe a reply.
"You must feel like a queen holding a court," said Trant, who had pushed his way close to her.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, "Lady Garfit makes me feel like a beggar maid dressed up. No, Mr. Trant, you mustn't put ​your name down so many times. Only once, please. I have promised to keep some for Mr. Frank Hallett."
Trant's eyes flamed. He left her sulkily. When the time came for his dance, he did not appear to claim it, and Elsie danced it with Blake. Nor did he come to make apologies. Elsie would have been offended if she had not noticed that his eyes glowered upon her whenever she turned hers towards him, and his anger, she felt, was a tribute to her power.
Just then, however, when Frank returned, he was made almost happy by the radiant smile with which Elsie showed him the blanks.
Oh yes, it was a triumphant evening for vain Elsie. She was the belle of the room. Rose Garfit was nowhere, and Mrs. Allanby quite out in the cold.
The sense of conquest was intoxicating. All the men present whom she considered worth captivating she had reduced to abject subjection. Never in her life had she so thoroughly enjoyed herself. Perhaps the enjoyment was all the more intense because there mingled with her triumph and elation a strange sense of dread, a certain vague pain and expectancy which gave a keener edge to life, and might have been the thrill of a new sense. And it was true. There were awakening in her sensations she had never known. It was as if she had taken a plunge into new deep waters, when all her life she had been floating on as hallow sunlit stream.