CHAPTER IV
THE FLAMING SWORD
The conviction which came upon Stella on that night of chequeredstarlight was one which no amount of sane reasoning could shake. Shemade no attempt to reopen the subject with Everard, recognizing fullythe futility of such a course; for she had no shadow of proof to supportit. But it hung upon her like a heavy chain. She took it with herwherever she went.
More than once she contemplated taking Tommy into her confidence. Butagain that lack of proof deterred her. She was certain that Tommy wouldgive no credence to her theory. And his faith in Monck--his wariness,his discretion--was unbounded.
She did question Peter with regard to Rustam Karin, but she elicitedscant satisfaction from him. Peter went but little to the native bazaar,and like herself had never seen the man. He appeared so seldom and thenonly by night. There was a rumour that he was leprous. This was all thatPeter knew.
And so it seemed useless to pursue the matter. She could only wait andwatch. Some day the man might emerge from his lair, and she would beable to identify him beyond all dispute. Peter could help her then. Buttill then there was nothing that she could do. She was quite helpless.
So, with that shrinking still strongly upon her that made all mention ofRalph Dacre's death so difficult, she buried the matter deep in her ownheart, determined only that she also would watch with a vigilance thatnever slackened until the proof for which she waited should be hers.
The weeks had begun to slip by with incredible swiftness. The tragedy ofErmsted's death had ceased to be the talk of the station. Tessa had goneback to her mother who still remained a semi-invalid in the Ralstons'hospitable care. Netta's plans seemed to be of the vaguest; but Homeleave was due to Major Ralston the following year, and it seemed likelythat she would drift on till then and return in their company.
Stella did not see very much of her friend in those days. Netta,exacting and peevish, monopolized much of the latter's time and kept hereffectually at a distance. The days were growing hotter moreover, andher energies flagged, though all her strength was concentrated uponconcealing the fact from Everard. For already the annual exodus toBhulwana was being discussed, and only the possibility that thebattalion might be moved to a healthier spot for the summer had deferredit for so long.
Stella clung to this possibility with a hope that was passionate in itsintensity. She had a morbid dread of separation, albeit the danger shefeared seemed to have sunk into obscurity during the weeks that hadintervened. If there yet remained unrest in the State, it was below thesurface. The Rajah came and went in his usual romantic way, played polowith his British friends, danced and gracefully flattered their wives asof yore.
On one occasion only did he ask Stella for a dance, but she excusedherself with a decision there was no mistaking. Something within herrevolted at the bare idea. He went away smiling, but he never asked heragain.
Definite orders for the move to Udalkhand arrived at length, andStella's heart rejoiced. The place was situated on the edge of a river,a brown and turgid torrent in the rainy weather, but no more than atorpid, muddy stream before the monsoon. A native town and temple stoodupon its banks, but a sandy road wound up to higher ground on which afew bungalows stood, overlooking the grim, parched desert below.
The jungle of Khanmulla was not more than five miles distant, andKurrumpore itself barely ten. But yet Stella felt as if a load had beenlifted from her. Surely the danger here would be more remote! And shewould not need to leave her husband now. That thought set her very hearta-singing.
Monck said but little upon the subject. He was more non-committal thanever in those days. Everyone said that Udalkhand was healthier andcooler than Kurrumpore and he did not contradict the statement. But yetStella came to perceive after a time something in his silence which shefound unsatisfactory. She believed he watched her narrowly though hecertainly had no appearance of doing so, and the suspicion made hernervous.
There were a few--Lady Harriet among the number--who condemned Udalkhandfrom the outset as impossible, and departed for Bhulwana withoutattempting to spend even the beginning of the hot season there. NettaErmsted also decided against it though Mrs. Ralston declared herintention of going thither, and she and Tessa departed for thatuniversal haven The Grand Stand before any one else.
This freed Mrs. Ralston, but Stella had grown a little apart from herfriend during that period at Kurrumpore, and a measure of reserve hungbetween them though outwardly they were unchanged. A great languor hadcome upon Stella which seemed to press all the more heavily upon herbecause she only suffered herself to indulge it in Everard's absence.When he was present she was almost feverishly active, but it needed allher strength of will to achieve this, and she had no energy over for herfriends.
Even after the move to Udalkhand had been accomplished, she scarcelyfelt the relief which she so urgently needed. Though the place wasundoubtedly more airy than Kurrumpore, the air came from the desert, andsand-storms were not infrequent.
She made a brave show nevertheless, and with Peter's help turned theirnew abode into as dainty a dwelling-place as any could desire. Tommyalso assisted with much readiness though the increasing heat wasanathema to him also. He was more considerate for his sister just thenthan he had ever been before. Often in Monck's absence he would spendmuch of his time with her, till she grew to depend upon him to an extentshe scarcely realized. He had taken up wood-carving in his leisure hoursand very soon she was fully occupied with executing elaborate designsfor his workmanship. They worked very happily together. Tommy declaredit kept him out of mischief, for violent exercise never suited him inhot weather.
And it was hot. Every day seemed to bring the scorching reality ofsummer a little nearer. In spite of herself Stella flagged more andmore. Tommy always kept a brave front. He was full of devices forameliorating their discomfort. He kept the punkah-coolie perpetually athis task. He made the water-coolie spray the verandah a dozen times aday. He set traps for the flies and caught them in their swarms.
But he could not take the sun out of the sky which day by day shone fromhorizon to horizon as a brazen shield burnished to an intolerablebrightness, while the earth--- parched and cracked and barren--faintedbeneath it. The nights had begun to be oppressive also. The wind fromthe desert was as the burning breath from a far-off forest-fire whichhourly drew a little nearer. Stella sometimes felt as if a monster-handwere slowly closing upon her, crushing out her life.
But still with all her might she strove to hide from Monck the ravagesof the cruel heat, even stooping to the bitter subterfuge of faintlycolouring the deathly whiteness of her cheeks. For the wild-rose bloomhad departed long since, as Netta Ermsted had predicted, though herbeauty remained--the beauty of the pure white rose which is fairer thanany other flower that grows.
There came a burning day at last, however, when she realized that theevening drive was almost beyond her powers. Tommy was on duty at thebarracks. Everard had, she believed, gone down to Khanmulla to seeBarnes of the Police. She decided in the absence of both to indulge in arest, and sent Peter to countermand the carriage.
Then a great heaviness came upon her, and she yielded herself to it,lying inert upon the couch in the drawing-room dully listening to thecreak of the punkah that stirred without cooling the late afternoon air.
Some time must have passed thus and she must have drifted into a speciesof vague dreaming that was not wholly sleep when suddenly there came asound at the darkened window; the blind was lifted and Monck stood inthe opening.
She sprang up with a startled sense of being caught off her guard, butthe next moment a great dizziness came upon her and she reeled back,groping for support.
He dropped the blind and caught her. "Why, Stella!" he said.
She clung to him desperately. "I am all right--I am all right! Hold me aminute! I--I tripped against the matting." Gaspingly she uttered thewords, hanging upon him, for she knew she could not stand alone.
He put her gently down upon the sofa. "Take it quietly, dear
!" he said.
She leaned back upon the cushions with closed eyes, for her brain wasswimming. "I am all right," she reiterated. "You startled me a little.I--didn't expect you back so soon."
"I met Barnes just after I started," he made answer. "He is coming todine presently."
Her heart sank. "Is he?" she said faintly.
"No." Monck's tone suddenly held an odd note that was half-grim andhalf-protective. "On second thoughts, he can go to the Mess with Tommy.I don't think I want him any more than you do."
She opened her eyes and looked up at him. "Everard, of course he mustdine here if you have asked him! Tell Peter!"
Her vision was still slightly blurred, but she saw that the set of hisjaw was stubborn. He stooped after a moment and kissed her forehead."You lie still!" he said. "And mind--you are not to dress for dinner."
He turned with that and left her.
She was not sorry to be alone, for her head was throbbing almostunbearably, but she would have given much to know what was in his mind.
She lay there passively till presently she heard Tommy dash in to dressfor mess, and shortly after there came the sound of men's voices in thecompound, and she knew that Monck and Barnes were walking to and frotogether.
She got up then, summoning her energies, and stole to her own room.Monck had commanded her not to change her dress, but the haggardness ofher face shocked her into taking refuge in the remedy which she secretlydespised. She did it furtively, hoping that in the darkened drawing-roomhe had not noted the ghastly pallor which she thus sought to conceal.
Before she left her room she heard Tommy and Barnes departing, and whenshe entered the dining-room Monck came in alone at the window and joinedher.
She met him somewhat nervously, for she thought his face was stern. Butwhen he spoke, his voice held nought but kindness, and she wasreassured. He did not look at her with any very close criticism, nor didhe revert to what had passed an hour before.
They were served by Peter, swiftly and silently, Stella making a valianteffort to simulate an appetite which she was far from possessing. Thewindows were wide to the night, and from the river bank below there camethe thrumming of some stringed instrument, which had a weird andstrangely poignant throbbing, as if it voiced some hidden distress.There were a thousand sounds besides, some near, some distant, but itpenetrated them all with the persistence of some small imprisonedcreature working perpetually for freedom.
It began to wear upon Stella's nerves at last. It was so futile, yet sopathetic--the same soft minor tinkle, only a few stray notes played overand over, over and over, till her brain rang with the maddening littlerefrain. She was glad when the meal was over, and she could make theexcuse to move to the drawing-room. There was a piano here, a ricketyinstrument long since hammered into tunelessness. But she sat downbefore it. Anything was better than to sit and listen to that single,plaintive little voice of India crying in the night.
She thought and hoped that Monck would smoke his cigarette and sufferhimself to be lulled into somnolence by such melody as she was able toextract from the crazy old instrument; but he disappointed her.
He smoked indeed, lounging out in the verandah, while she sought withevery allurement to draw him in and charm him to blissful, sleepycontentment. But it presently came to her that there was somethingdogged in his refusal to be so drawn, and when she realized that shebrought her soft _nocturne_ to a summary close and turned round to himwith just a hint of resentment.
He was leaning in the doorway, the cigarette gone from his lips. Hisface was turned to the night. His attitude seemed to express thatpatience which attends upon iron resolution. He looked at her over hisshoulder as she paused.
"Why don't you sing?" he said.
A little tremor of indignation went through her. He spoke with thegentle indulgence of one who humours a child. Only once had she eversung to him, and then he had sat in such utter immobility and silencethat she had questioned with herself afterwards if he had cared for it.
She rose with a wholly unconscious touch of majesty. "I have no voiceto-night," she said.
"Then come here!" he said.
His voice was still absolutely gentle but it held an indefinablesomething that made her raise her brows.
She went to him nevertheless, and he put his hand through her arm anddrew her close to his side. The night was heavy with a broodingheat-haze that blotted out the stars. The little twanging instrumentdown by the river was silent.
For a space Monck did not speak, and gradually the tension went out ofStella. She relaxed at length and laid her cheek against his shoulder.
His arm went round her in a moment; he held her against his heart."Stella," he said, "do you ever think to yourself nowadays that I am avery formidable person to live with?"
"Never," she said.
His arm tightened about her. "You are not afraid of me any longer?"
She smiled a little. "What is this leading up to?"
He bent suddenly, his lips against her forehead. "Dear heart, if I amwrong--forgive me! But--why are you trying to deceive me?"
She had never heard such tenderness in his voice before; it thrilled herthrough and through, checking her first involuntary dismay. She hid herface upon his breast, clasping him close, trembling from head to foot.
He turned, still holding her, and led her to the sofa. They sat downtogether.
"Poor girl!" he said softly. "It hasn't been easy, has it?"
Then she realized that he knew all that she had so strenuously sought tohide. The struggle was over and she was beaten. A great wave of emotionwent through her. Before she could check herself, she was shaken withsobs.
"No, no!" he said, and laid his hand upon her head. "You mustn't cry.It's all right, my darling. It's all right. What is there to cry about?"
She clung faster to him, and her hold was passionate. "Everard," shewhispered, "Everard,--I--can't leave you!"
"Ah!" he said "We are up against it now."
"I can't!" she said again. "I can't."
His hand was softly stroking her hair. Such tenderness as she had neverdreamed of was in his touch. "Leave off crying!" he said. "God knows Iwant to make things easier for you--not harder."
"I can bear anything," she told him brokenly, "anything in the world--ifonly I am with you. I can't leave you. You won't--you can't--force me tothat."
"Stella! Stella!" he said.
His voice checked her. She knew that she had hurt him. She lifted herface quickly to his.
"Oh, darling, forgive me!" she said. "I know you would not."
He kissed the quivering lips she raised without words, and thereafterthere fell a silence between them while the mystery of the night seemedto press closer upon them, and the veiled goddess turned in her sleepand subtly smiled.
Stella uttered a long, long sigh at last. "You are good to bear with melike this," she said rather piteously.
"Better now?" he questioned gently.
She closed her eyes from the grave scrutiny of his. "I am--quite allright, dear," she said. "And I am taking great care of myself.Please--please don't worry about me!"
His hand sought and found hers. "I have been worrying about you for along time," he said.
She gave a start of surprise. "I never thought you noticed anything."
"Yes." With a characteristic touch of grimness he answered her. "Inoticed when you first began to colour your cheeks for my benefit. Iknew it was only for mine, or of course I should have been furious."
"Oh, Everard!" She hid her face against him again with a little shamedlaugh.
He went on without mercy. "I am not an easy person to deceive, you know.You really might have saved yourself the trouble. I hoped you would givein sooner. That too would have saved trouble."
"But I haven't given in," she said.
His hand closed upon hers. "You would kill yourself first if I would letyou," he said. "But--do you think I am going to do that?"
"It would kill me to leave you," she said.
r /> "And what if it kills you to stay?" He spoke with sudden force. "No,listen a minute! I have something to tell you. I have been worried aboutyou--as I said--for some time. To-day I was working in the orderly-room,and Ralston chanced to come in. He asked me how you were. I said, 'I amafraid the climate is against her. What do you think of her?' Hereplied, 'I'll tell you what I think of you, if you like. I think you'rea damned fool.' That opened my eyes." Monck ended on the old grim note."I thanked him for the information, and told him to come over here andsee you on the earliest opportunity. He has promised to come round inthe morning."
"Oh, but Everard!" Stella started up in swift protest. "I don't wanthim! I won't see him!"
He kept her hand in his. "I am sorry," he said. "But I am going toinsist on that."
"You--insist!" She looked at him curiously, a quivering smile about herlips.
His eyes met hers uncompromisingly. "If necessary," he said.
She made a movement to free herself, but he frustrated her, gently butwith indisputable mastery.
"Stella," he said, "things may be difficult. I know they are. But, mydear, don't make them impossible! Let us pull together in this as ineverything else!"
She met his look steadily. "You know what will happen, don't you?" shesaid. "He will order me to Bhulwana."
Monck's hand tightened upon hers. "Better that," he said, under hisbreath, "than to lose you altogether!"
"And if it kills me to leave you?" she said. "What then?"
He made a gesture that was almost violent, but instantly restrainedhimself. "I think you are braver than that," he said.
Her lips quivered again piteously. "I am not brave at all," she said."I left all my courage--all my faith--in the mountains one terriblemorning--when God cursed me for marrying a man I did not love--andtook--the man--- away."
"My darling!" Monck said. He drew her to him again, holding herpassionately close, kissing the trembling lips till they clung to his inanswer. "Can't you forget all that," he said, "put it right away fromyou, think only of what lies before."
Her arms were round his neck. She poured out her very soul to him inthat close embrace. But she said no word in answer, and her silence wasthe silence of despair. It seemed to her that the flaming sword shedreaded had flashed again across her path, closing the way tohappiness.