The Lamp in the Desert

  CHAPTER II

  THE PRISONER AT THE BAR

  In the room with the crimson-shaded lamp Stella Denvers sat waiting. Thered glow compassed her warmly, striking wonderful copper gleams in theburnished coils of her hair. Her face was bent over the long whitegloves that she was pulling over her wrists, a pale face that yet wasextraordinarily vivid, with features that were delicate and proud, andlips that had the exquisite softness and purity of a flower.

  She raised her eyes from her task at sound of the steps below thewindow, and their starry brightness under her straight black brows gaveher an infinite allurement. Certainly a beautiful woman, as Monck hadsaid, and possessing the brilliance and the wonder of youth to an almostdazzling degree! Perhaps it was not altogether surprising that theladies of the regiment had not been too enthusiastic in their welcome ofthis sister of Tommy's who had come so suddenly into their midst,defying convention. Her advent had been utterly unexpected--a totalsurprise even to Tommy, who, returning one day from the polo-ground,had found her awaiting him in the bachelor quarters which he had sharedwith three other subalterns. And her arrival had set the whole stationbuzzing.

  Led by the Colonel's wife, Lady Harriet Mansfield, the women of theregiment had--with the single exception of Mrs. Ralston whose opinionwas of no account--risen and condemned the splendid stranger who hadcome amongst them with such supreme audacity and eclipsed the fairest ofthem. Stella's own simple explanation that she had, upon attaining hermajority and fifty pounds a year, decided to quit the home of somedistant relatives who did not want her and join Tommy who was the onlynear relation she had, had satisfied no one. She was an interloper, andas such they united to treat her. As Lady Harriet said, no nice girlwould have dreamed of taking such an extraordinary step, and she had notthe smallest intention of offering her the chaperonage that she soconspicuously lacked. If Mrs. Ralston chose to do so, that was her ownaffair. Such action on the part of the surgeon's very ordinary wifewould make no difference to any one. She was glad to think that all theother ladies were too well-bred to accept without reservation sounconventional a type.

  The fact that she was Tommy's sister was the only consideration in herfavour. Tommy was quite a nice boy, and they could not for his sakeentirely exclude her from the regimental society, but to no intimategathering was she ever invited, nor from the female portion of thecommunity was there any welcome for her at the Club.

  The attitude of the officers of the regiment was of a totally differentnature. They had accepted her with enthusiasm, possibly all the moremarked on account of the aloofness of their women folk, and in a veryshort time they were paying her homage as one man. The subalterns whohad shared their quarters with Tommy turned out to make room for her,treating her like a queen suddenly come into her own, and like a queenshe entered into possession, accepting all courtesy just as she ignoredall slights with a delicate self-possession that yet knew how to begracious when occasion demanded.

  Mrs. Ralston would have offered her harbourage had she desired it, butthere was pride in Stella--a pride that surged and rebelled very farbelow her serenity. She received favours from none.

  And so, unshackled and unchaperoned, she had gone her way among hercritics, and no one--not even Tommy--suspected how deep was the woundthat their barely-veiled hostility had inflicted. In bitterness of soulshe hid it from all the world, and only her brother and her brother'sgrim and somewhat unapproachable captain were even vaguely aware of itsexistence.

  Everard Monck was one of the very few men who had not laid themselvesdown before her dainty feet, and she had gradually come to believe thatthis man shared the silent, side-long disapproval manifested by thewomen. Very strangely that belief hurt her even more deeply, in asubtle, incomprehensible fashion, than any slights inflicted by her ownsex. Possibly Tommy's warm enthusiasm for the man had made her moresensitive regarding his good opinion. And possibly she was over ready toread condemnation in his grave eyes. But--whatever the reason--she wouldhave given much to have had him on her side. Somehow it mattered to her,and mattered vitally.

  But Monck had never joined her retinue of courtiers. He was never otherthan courteous to her, but he did not seek her out. Perhaps he hadbetter things to do. Aloof, impenetrable, cold, he passed her by, andshe would have been even more amazed than Tommy had she heard himdescribe her as beautiful, so convinced was she that he saw in her nocharm.

  It had been a disheartening struggle, this hewing for herself a wayalong the rocky paths of prejudice, and many had been the thorns underher feet. Though she kept a brave heart and never faltered, she hadtired inevitably of the perpetual effort it entailed. Three weeks afterher arrival, when the annual exodus of the ladies of the regiment to theHills was drawing near, she became engaged to Ralph Dacre, thehandsomest and most irresponsible man in the mess.

  With him at least her power to attract was paramount. He was blindly,almost fulsomely, in love. Her beauty went to his head from the outset;it fired his blood. He worshipped her hotly, and pursued her untiringly,caring little whether she returned his devotion so long as he ultimatelytook possession. And when finally, half-disdainfully, she yielded to hisinsistence, his one all-mastering thought became to clinch the bargainbefore she could repent of it. It was a mad and headlong passion thatdrove him--not for the first time in his life; and the subtle pride ofher and the soft reserve made her all the more desirable in his eyes.

  He had won her; he did not stop to ask himself how. The women said thatthe luck was all on her side. The men forebore to express an opinion.Dacre had attained his captaincy, but he was not regarded with greatrespect by any one. His fellow-officers shrugged their shoulders overhim, and the commanding officer, Colonel Mansfield, had been heard tocall him "the craziest madman it had ever been his fate to meet." Noone, except Tommy, actively disliked him, and he had no grounds for sodoing, as Monck had pointed out. Monck, who till then had occupied thesame bungalow, declared he had nothing against him, and he was surely ina position to form a very shrewd opinion. For Monck was neither fool normadman, and there was very little that escaped his silent observation.

  He was acting as best man at the morrow's ceremony, the function havingbeen almost thrust upon him by Dacre who, oddly enough, sharedsomething of Tommy's veneration for his very reticent brother-officer.There was scant friendship between them. Each had been accustomed to gohis own way wholly independent of the other. They were no more thancasual acquaintances, and they were content to remain such. Butundoubtedly Dacre entertained a certain respect for Monck and observed awariness of behaviour in his presence that he never troubled to assumefor any other man. He was careful in his dealings with him, being at alltimes not wholly certain of his ground.

  Other men felt the same uncertainty in connection with Monck. None--saveTommy--was sure what manner of man he was. Tommy alone took him forgranted with whole-hearted admiration, and at his earnest wish it hadbeen arranged between them that Monck should take up his abode with himwhen the forthcoming marriage had deprived each of a companion. Tommywas delighted with the idea, and he had a gratifying suspicion thatMonck himself was inclined to be pleased with it also.

  The Green Bungalow had become considerably more homelike since Stella'sarrival, and Tommy meant to keep it so. He was sure that Monck and hewould have the same tastes.

  And so on that eve of his sister's wedding, the thought of their comingcompanionship was the sole redeeming feature of the whole affair, andhe turned in his impulsive fashion to say so just as they reached theverandah steps.

  But the words did not leave his lips, for the red glow flung from thelamp had found Monck's upturned face, and something--something aboutit--checked all speech for the moment. He was looking straight up at thelighted window and the face of a beautiful woman who gazed forth intothe night. And his eyes were no longer cold and unresponsive, butburning, ardent, intensely alive. Tommy forgot what he was going to sayand only stared.

  The moment passed; it was scarcely so much as a moment. And Monck movedon in his calm,
unfaltering way.

  "Your sister is ready and waiting," he said.

  They ascended the steps together, and the girl who sat by the openwindow rose with a stately movement and stepped forward to meet them.

  "Hullo, Stella!" was Tommy's greeting. "Hope I'm not awfully late. Theywasted such a confounded time over toasts at mess to-night. Yours wasone of 'em, and I had to reply. I hadn't a notion what to say. CaptainMonck thinks I made an awful hash of it though he is too considerate tosay so."

  "On the contrary I said 'Hear, hear!' to every stutter," said Monck,bowing slightly as he took the hand she offered.

  She was wearing a black lace dress with a glittering spangled scarf ofIndian gauze floating about her. Her neck and shoulders gleamed in thesoft red glow. She was superb that night.

  She smiled at Monck, and her smile was as a shining cloak hiding hersoul. "So you have started upon your official duties already!" she said."It is the best man's business to encourage and console everyoneconcerned, isn't it?"

  The faint cynicism of her speech was like her smile. It held back allintrusive curiosity. And the man's answering smile had something of thesame quality. Reserve met reserve.

  "I hope I shall not find it very arduous in that respect," he said. "Idid not come here in that capacity."

  "I am glad of that," she said. "Won't you come in and sit down?"

  She motioned him within with a queenly gesture, but her invitation waswholly lacking in warmth. It was Tommy who pressed forward with eagerhospitality.

  "Yes, and have a drink! It's a thirsty right. It's getting infernallyhot. Stella, you're lucky to be going out of it."

  "Oh, I am very lucky," Stella said.

  They entered the lighted room, and Tommy went in search of refreshment.

  "Won't you sit down?" said Stella.

  Her voice was deep and pure, and the music in it made him wonder if shesang. He sat facing her while she returned with apparent absorption tothe fastening of her gloves. She spoke again after a moment withoutraising her eyes. "Are you proposing to take up your abode hereto-morrow?"

  "That's the idea," said Monck.

  "I hope you and Tommy will be quite comfortable," she said. "No doubt hewill be a good deal happier with you than he has been for the past fewweeks with me."

  "I don't know why he should be," said Monck.

  "No?" She was frowning slightly over her glove. "You see, my sojournhere has not been--a great success. I think poor Tommy has felt itrather badly. He likes a genial atmosphere."

  "He won't get much of that in my company," observed Monck.

  She smiled momentarily. "Perhaps not. But I think he will not be sorryto be relieved of family cares. They have weighed rather heavily uponhim."

  "He will be sorry to lose you," said Monck.

  "Oh, of course, in a way. But he will soon get over that." She looked upat him suddenly. "You will all be rather thankful when I am safelymarried, Captain Monck," she said.

  There was a second or two of silence. Monck's eyes looked straight backinto hers while it lasted, but they held no warmth, scarcely eveninterest.

  "I really don't know why you should say that, Miss Denvers," he saidstiffly at length.

  Stella's gloved hands clasped each other. She was breathing somewhathard, yet her bearing was wholly regal, even disdainful.

  "Only because I realize that I have been a great anxiety to all therespectable portion of the community," she made careless reply. "I thinkI am right in classing you under that heading, am I not?"

  He heard the challenge in her tone, delicately though she presented it,and something in him that was fierce and unrestrained sprang up to meetit. But he forced it back. His expression remained wholly inscrutable.

  "I don't think I can claim to be anything else," he said. "But that factscarcely makes me in any sense one of a community. I think I prefer tostand alone."

  Her blue eyes sparkled a little. "Strangely, I have the samepreference," she said. "It has never appealed to me to be one of acrowd. I like independence--whatever the crowd may say. But I am quiteaware that in a woman that is considered a dangerous taste. A womanshould always conform to rule."

  "I have never studied the subject," said Monck.

  He spoke briefly. Tommy's confidences had stirred within him that whichcould not be expressed. The whole soul of him shrank with an almostangry repugnance from discussing the matter with her. No discussioncould make any difference at this stage.

  Again for a second he saw her slight frown. Then she leaned back in herchair, stretching up her arms as if weary of the matter. "In fact youavoid all things feminine," she said. "How discreet of you!"

  A large white moth floated suddenly in and began to beat itself againstthe lamp-shade. Monck's eyes watched it with a grim concentration.Stella's were half-closed. She seemed to have dismissed him from hermind as an unimportant detail. The silence widened between them.

  Suddenly there was a movement. The fluttering creature had found theflame and fallen dazed upon the table. Almost in the same second Monckstooped forward swiftly and silently, and crushed the thing with hisclosed fist.

  Stella drew a quick breath. Her eyes were wide open again. She sat up.

  "Why did you do that?"

  He looked at her again, a smouldering gleam in his eyes. "It was on itsway to destruction," he said.

  "And so you helped it!"

  He nodded. "Yes. Long-drawn-out agonies don't attract me."

  Stella laughed softly, yet with a touch of mockery. "Oh, it was an actof mercy, was it? You didn't look particularly merciful. In fact, thatis about the last quality I should have attributed to you."

  "I don't think," Monck said very quietly, "that you are in a position tojudge me." She leaned forward. He saw that her bosom was heaving. "Thatis your prerogative, isn't it?" she said. "I--I am just the prisoner atthe bar, and--like the moth--I have been condemned--without mercy."

  He raised his brows sharply. For a second he had the look of a man whohas been stabbed in the back. Then with a swift effort he pulled himselftogether.

  In the same moment Stella rose. She was smiling, and there was a redflush in her cheeks. She took her fan from the table.

  "And now," she said, "I am going to dance--all night long. Every officerin the mess--save one--has asked me for a dance."

  He was on his feet in an instant. He had checked one impulse, but evento his endurance there were limits. He spoke as one goaded.

  "Will you give me one?"

  She looked him squarely in the eyes. "No, Captain Monck."

  His dark face looked suddenly stubborn. "I don't often dance," he said."I wasn't going to dance to-night. But--I will have one--I must haveone--with you."

  "Why?" Her question fell with a crystal clearness. There was somethingof crystal hardness in her eyes.

  But the man was undaunted. "Because you have wronged me, and you owe mereparation."

  "I--have wronged--you!" She spoke the words slowly, still looking him inthe eyes.

  He made an abrupt gesture as of holding back some inner force thatstrongly urged him. "I am not one of your persecutors," he said. "I havenever in my life presumed to judge you--far less condemn you."

  His voice vibrated as though some emotion fought fiercely for themastery. They stood facing each other in what might have been openantagonism but for that deep quiver in the man's voice.

  Stella spoke after the lapse of seconds. She had begun to tremble.

  "Then why--why did you let me think so? Why did you always stand aloof?"

  There was a tremor in her voice also, but her eyes were shining with thelight half-eager, half-anxious, of one who seeks for buried treasure.

  Monck's answer was pitched very low. It was as if the soul of him gaveutterance to the words. "It is my nature to stand aloof. I was waiting."

  "Waiting?" Her two hands gripped suddenly hard upon her fan, but stillher shining eyes did not flinch from his. Still with a quivering heartshe searched.

  Almost
in a whisper came his reply. "I was waiting--till my turn shouldcome."

  "Ah!" The fan snapped between her hands; she cast it from her with amovement that was almost violent.

  Monck drew back sharply. With a smile that was grimly cynical he veiledhis soul. "I was a fool, of course, and I am quite aware that myfoolishness is nothing to you. But at least you know now how littlecause you have to hate me."

  She had turned from him and gone to the open window. She stood therebending slightly forward, as one who strains for a last glimpse ofsomething that has passed from sight.

  Monck remained motionless, watching her. From another room near by therecame the sound of Tommy's humming and the cheery pop of a withdrawncork.

  Stella spoke at last, in a whisper, and as she spoke the strain went outof her attitude and she drooped against the wood-work of the window asif spent. "Yes; but I know--too late."

  The words reached him though he scarcely felt that they were intended todo so. He suffered them to go into silence; the time for speech waspast.

  The seconds throbbed away between them. Stella did not move or speakagain, and at last Monck turned from her. He picked up the broken fan,and with a curious reverence he laid it out of sight among some books onthe table.

  Then he stood immovable as granite and waited.

  There came the sound of Tommy's footsteps, and in a moment the door wasflung open. Tommy advanced with all a host's solicitude.

  "Oh, I say, I'm awfully sorry to have kept you waiting so long. Thatsilly ass of a _khit_ had cleared off and left us nothing to drink.Stella, we shall miss all the fun if we don't hurry up. Come on, Monck,old chap, say when!"

  He stopped at the table, and Stella turned from the window and movedforward. Her face was pale, but she was smiling.

  "Captain Monck is coming with us, Tommy," she said.

  "What?" Tommy looked up sharply. "Really? I say, Monck, I'm pleased.It'll do you good."

  Monck was smiling also, faintly, grimly. "Don't mix any strong watersfor me, Tommy!" he said. "And you had better not be too generous toyourself! Remember, you will have to dance with Lady Harriet!"

  Tommy grimaced above the glasses. "All right. Have some lime-juice! Youwill have to dance with her too. That's some consolation!"

  "I?" said Monck. He took the glass and handed it to Stella, then as sheshook her head he put it to his own lips and drank as a man drinks to amemory. "No," he said then. "I am dancing only one dance to-night, andthat will not be with Lady Harriet Mansfield."

  "Who then?" questioned Tommy.

  It was Stella who answered him, in her voice a note that soundedhalf-reckless, half-defiant. "It isn't given to every woman to dance ather own funeral," she said: "Captain Monck has kindly consented toassist at the orgy of mine."

  "Stella!" protested Tommy, flushing. "I hate to hear you talking likethat!"

  Stella laughed a little, softly, as though at the vagaries of a child."Poor Tommy!" she said. "What it is to be so young!"

  "I'd sooner be a babe in arms than a cynic," said Tommy bluntly.