The Foot of Time: A Novel of Australia and the South Seas: (1933)

212 THE FOOT OF TIME
His principal interest just now appeared to be his
study. Florence felt she had interfered sufficiently
for the moment, and accordingly sunk herself back
into Manly and her multitudinous interests there.
Within two months of his arrival home, Bruce
sat for an examination, then entered some shipbuilding
yards on the harbour. Here he was
engaged for long hours unpaid, in the yards and
inside, at planning, designing, the commercial side
and all the rest of it. Later he would put in a
couple of years on the Clyde, near Glasgow, and
then, if his ambitions materialised, nothing less
would satisfy his burning ambition than to start on
his own in Devonshire with some of his mother's
capital, and compete against them all.
The boy kept away from Edith, but visited
Florence when he thought her niece would be away,
and from Miss Tooth he heard all the family news.
But the day came when he visited Manly
simultaneously with Edith being there. Miss Tooth
was out. Edith had only just arrived, and was
awaiting her Aunt, whom the little maid of all
work assured her would not be over long.
In complete ignorance of the strained condition
of things, the maid showed Bruce into the room
where the girl sat. Edith was keeping the devil out
of herself at the grand piano which Florence
affected. Miss Tooth could not play a note herself,
and scarcely knew "Advance Australia Fair" from
Oswald Anderson's "You Lovely Thing."
Edith was rather giving it to the instrument just
then, lost in some of Chopin's harmonious chords.
THE FOOT OF TIME 213
The girl did not hear her lover's step till he was
right in the room, then she sprang up from the
music stool and faced him.
But Edith spoke no word, only gazed at him and
gazed. She noticed an altered look about him—
intangible, indefinite. He hadn't exactly altered,
and yet he was different. The boy had matured.
Actually he had improved, and improved definitely,
however much his soul may (or may not) have
gone to pieces. The Bruce who confronted her was
a magnificent specimen of a man, and the girl's
heart leapt within her at sight of him. Her breath
came faster after a painful pause. She wished he
would speak, but, like herself, words appeared too
futile to convey one millionth of what each felt.
His gaze upon her was a very quiet one, unstaring.
In his eyes she saw at last what she wondered.
Did he still love her? Yes, God was right in her
world so far as that went. At last she could bear
the suspense no longer.
"Why haven't you been to see me?" she enquired,
and waited for his answer. Edith made no mention
of his long absence—it was a lesser matter.
First, why being able to see her, had he avoided
her?
"Because I'm not fit for you," said Bruce.
"Do you mean—the South Seas and all that that
can mean?"
"Yes. Only worse than that."
"Oh! What do you mean worse? How could
anything be worse?"
"It's too bad to tell you. Ask your Aunt."