The Villa and the Vortex by Elinor Mordaunt

Author:Elinor Mordaunt
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Handheld Press
Published: 2021-05-28T13:09:40+00:00

That was the beginning of it. During those first days it would have followed him to the end of the world. Later on, he told himself bitterly that he had been a fool not to have seen further; gone off anywhere – oh, anywhere so long as it was far enough – dragging the brute after him while his leadership still held.

It was with difficulty that they prevented it from dogging them back to the Rectory – just imagine it tailing through the village at their heels! But once it understood that it must stay where it was, it sat down on a grassy hummock, crouching with its arms round its knees, one hand tightly clenched, its small, light eyes, overhung by that portentous brow, following them with a look of desolate loneliness.

Again and again the boy and girl glanced back, but it still sat there staring after them, immovable in the spot which Hector had indicated to it. They had left it all the food they had with them, and one of the blankets which they had been too hot to carry home that morning. As it plainly had not known what to do with the thing, Rhoda, overcome by a sort of motherliness, had thrown it over its shoulders. Thus it sat, shrouded like an Arab, its shaggy head cut like a giant burr against the pale primrose sky.

‘A beastly shame leaving it alone like that!’ They both felt it; scarcely liked to meet each other’s eyes over it. And yet, pity it as they might, engrossed in it as they were, they couldn’t stay there with it after dark. No reason, no fear – just couldn’t! Why? Oh, well, for all its new-found life, it was as far away as any ghost.

‘Poor brute!’ said Rhoda.

‘Poor chap!’ Hector’s under-lip was thrust out, his look aggressive. But there was no argument; and when he treated her – ‘Don’t be silly; of course it’s not a man; any duffer could see that’ – with contemptuous silence, Rhoda knew that he was absolutely fixed in his convictions.

He proved it, too, next morning, leading the creature out into the half-dried mud and back again to where his sister sat, following his apparently aimless movements with puzzled eyes.

‘Now, look,’ he crowed. ‘Just you look, Miss Blooming-Cocksure!’

He was right. There was the mark of his own heavy nailed boot, and beside it the track of other feet; oddly-shaped enough, but with the weight distinctly thrown upon the heel and great-toe, as no beast save man has ever yet thrown it – that fine developed great-toe, the emblem of leadership. Hardly a trace of such pressure as the three greater apes show, all on the outer edge of the foot; not even flat and even as the baboon throws his.

It was after this that – without another word said – Rhoda, meek for once, followed her brother’s example, and began to speak of the creature as ‘He’.

They even gave him a name. They called him

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