Marching Men eBook

The distracted man stared into the darkness and his blue eyes were troubled.  The vision of the disordered and disorganised band of miners marching silently in the wake of his mother’s funeral into whose lives he by some supreme effort was to bring order was disturbed and shattered by the more definite and lovely vision that had come to him.

CHAPTER IV

During the days since she had seen McGregor Margaret had thought of him almost constantly.  She weighed and balanced her own inclinations and decided that if the opportunity came she would marry the man whose force and courage had so appealed to her.  She was half disappointed that the opposition she had seen in her father’s face when she had told him of McGregor and had betrayed herself by her tears did not become more active.  She wanted to fight, to defend the man she had secretly chosen.  When nothing was said of the matter she went to her mother and tried to explain.  “We will have him here,” the mother said quickly.  “I am giving a reception next week.  I will make him the chief figure.  Let me have his name and address and I will attend to the matter.”

Laura arose and went into the house.  A shrewd gleam came into her eyes.  “He will act like a fool before our people,” she told herself.  “He is a brute and will be made to look like a brute.”  She could not restrain her impatience and sought out David.  “He is a man to fear,” she said; “he would stop at nothing.  You must think of some way to put an end to Margaret’s interest in him.  Do you know of a better plan than to have him here where he will look the fool?”

David took the cigar from his lips.  He felt annoyed and irritated that an affair concerning Margaret had been brought forward for discussion.  In his heart he also feared McGregor.  “Let it alone,” he said sharply.  “She is a woman grown and has more judgment and good sense than any other woman I know.”  He got up and threw the cigar over the veranda into the grass.  “Women are not understandable,” he half shouted.  “They do inexplicable things, have inexplicable fancies.  Why do they not go forward along straight lines like a sane man?  I years ago gave up understanding you and now I am being compelled to give up understanding Margaret.”

* * * * *

At Mrs. Ormsby’s reception McGregor appeared arrayed in the black suit he had purchased for his mother’s funeral.  His flaming red hair and rude countenance arrested the attention of all.  About him on all sides crackled talk and laughter.  As Margaret had been alarmed and ill at ease in the crowded court room where a fight for life went on, so he among these people who went about uttering little broken sentences and laughing foolishly at nothing, felt depressed and uncertain.  In the midst of the company he occupied much the same position as a new and ferocious animal safely caught and now on caged exhibition.  They thought it clever of Mrs. Ormsby to have him and he was, in not quite the accepted sense, the lion of the evening.  The rumour that he would be there had induced more than one woman to cut other engagements and come to where she could take the hand of and talk with this hero of the newspapers, and the men shaking his hand, looked at him sharply and wondered what power and what cunning lay in him.