CHAPTER VI
THE FIRST GLIMMER
It was from the Colonel himself that Stella heard of Everard'sretirement.
He walked back from the Mess that night with Tommy and asked to see herfor a few minutes alone. He was always kinder to her in his wife'sabsence.
She was busy installing the new _ayah_ whom Peter with the air of amagician who has but to wave his wand had presented to her half an hourbefore. The woman was old and bent and closely veiled--so closely thatStella strongly suspected her disfigurement to be of a very ghastlynature, but her low voice and capable manner inspired her withinstinctive confidence. She realized with relief from the very outsetthat her faithful Peter had not made a mistake. She was sure that thenew-comer had nursed sickly English children before. She went to theColonel, leaving the strange woman in charge of her baby and Peterhovering reassuringly in the background.
His first greeting of her had a touch of diffidence, but when he sawthe weary suffering of her eyes this was swallowed up in pity. He tookher hands and held them.
"My poor girl!" he said.
She smiled at him. Pity from an outsider did not penetrate to the depthsof her. "Thank you for coming," she said.
He coughed and cleared his throat. "I hope it isn't an intrusion," hesaid.
"But of course not!" she made answer. "How could it be? Won't you sitdown?"
He led her to a chair; but he did not sit down himself. He stood beforeher with something of the air of a man making a confession.
"Mrs. Monck," he said, "I think I ought to tell you that it was by myadvice that your husband resigned his commission."
Her brows drew together a little as if at a momentary dart of pain. "Hashe resigned it?" she said.
"Yes. Didn't he tell you?" He frowned. "Haven't you seen him? Don't youknow where he is?"
She shook her head. "I can only think of my baby just now," she said.
He swung round abruptly upon his heel and paced the room. "Oh yes, ofcourse. I know that. Ralston told me. I am very sorry for you, Mrs.Monck,--very, very sorry."
"Thank you," she said.
He continued to tramp to and fro. "You haven't much to thank me for. Ihad to think of the Regiment; but I considered the step very carefullybefore I took it. He had rendered invaluable service--especially overthis Khanmulla trial. He would have been decorated for it if--" hepulled up with a jerk--"if things had been different. I know SirReginald Bassett thought very highly of him, was prepared to give him anappointment on his personal staff. And no doubt eventually he would haveclimbed to the top of the tree. But--this affair has destroyed him." Hepaused a moment, but he did not look at her. "He has had every chance,"he said then. "I kept an open mind. I wouldn't condemn him unhearduntil--well until he refused flatly to speak on his own behalf. I wentover to Khanmulla and talked to him--talked half the night. I couldn'tmove him. And if a man won't take the trouble to defend his own honour,it isn't worth--that!" He snapped his fingers with a bitter gesture;then abruptly wheeled and came back to her. "I didn't come here todistress you," he said, looking down at her again. "I know your cup isfull already. And it's a thankless task to persuade any woman that herhusband is unworthy of her, besides being an impertinence. But what Imust say to you is this. There is nothing left to wait for, and it wouldbe sheer madness to stay on any longer. The Rajah has been deeplyincriminated and is in hiding. The Government will of course take overthe direction of affairs, but there is certain--absolutely certain--tobe a disturbance when Ermsted's murderer is executed. I hope an adequateforce will soon be at our disposal to cope with it, but it has not yetbeen provided. Therefore I cannot possibly permit you to stay here anylonger. As Monck's wife, it is more than likely that you might be madean object of vengeance. I can't risk it. You and the child must go. Iwill send an escort in the morning."
He stopped at last, partly for lack of breath, partly because from herunmoved expression he fancied that she was not taking in his warningwords. She sat looking straight before her as one rapt in reverie. Itwas almost as though she had forgotten him, suffered some more absorbingmatter to crowd him out of her thoughts.
"You do follow me?" he questioned at length as she did not speak.
She lifted her eyes to him again though he felt it was with a greateffort. "Oh, yes," she said. "I quite understand you, Colonel Mansfield.And--I am quite grateful to you. But I am not staying here for myhusband's sake at all. I--do not suppose we shall ever see each otherany more. All that is over."
He started. "What! You have given him up?" he said, uttering the wordsalmost involuntarily, so quiet was she in her despair.
She bent her head. "Yes, I have given him up. I do not know where heis--or anything about him. I am staying here now--I must stay herenow--for my baby's sake. He is too ill to bear a journey."
She lifted her face again with the words, and in its pale resolution hesaw that he would spend himself upon further argument in vain. Moreover,he was for the moment too staggered by the low-spoken information toconcentrate his attention upon persuasion. Her utter quietness silencedhim.
He stood for a moment or two looking down at her, then abruptly bent andtook her hand. "You're a very brave woman," he said, a quick touch offeeling in his voice. "You've had a fiendish time of it out here fromstart to finish. It'll be a good thing for you when you can get out ofit and go Home. You're young; you'll start again."
It was clumsy consolation, but his hand-grip was fatherly. She smiledagain at him, and got up.
"Thank you very much, Colonel. You have always been kind. Please don'tbother about me any more. I am really not a bit afraid. I have too muchto think about. And really I don't think I am important enough to be inany real danger. You will excuse me now, won't you? I have just got anew _ayah_, and they always need superintending. Perhaps you will joinmy brother-in-law. I know he will be delighted."
She extricated herself with a gentle aloofness more difficult to combatthan any open opposition, and he went away to express himself morestrongly to Bernard Monck from whom he was sure at least of receivingsympathy if not support.
Stella returned to her baby with a stunned feeling of having beenstruck, and yet without consciousness of pain. Perhaps she had sufferedso much that her faculties were getting numbed. She knew that theColonel was surprised that his news concerning Everard had affected herso little. She was in a fashion surprised herself. Was she then soabsorbed that she had no room for him in her thoughts? And yet only theprevious night how she had yearned for him!
It was the end of everything for him--the end of his ambition, of hiscareer, of all his cherished hopes. He was a broken man and he woulddrop out as other men had dropped out. His love for her had been hisruin. And yet her brain seemed incapable of grasping the meaning of thecatastrophe. The bearing of her burden occupied the whole of herstrength.
The rest of the Colonel's news scarcely touched her at all, save thatthe thought flashed upon her once that if the danger were indeed sogreat Everard would certainly come to her. That sent a strange glowthrough her that died as swiftly as it was born. She did not reallybelieve in the danger, and Everard was probably far away already.
She went back to her baby and the _ayah_, Hanani, over whom Peter wasmounting guard with a queer mixture of patronage and respect. For thoughhe had procured the woman and obviously thought highly of her, heseemed to think that none but himself could be regarded as fullyqualified to have the care of his _mem-sahib's_ fondly cherished _baba_.
Stella heard him giving some low-toned directions as she entered, andshe wondered if the new _ayah_ would resent his lordly attitude. But theveiled head bent over the child expressed nothing but complete docility.She answered Peter in few words, but with the utmost meekness.
Her quietness was a great relief to Stella. There was a self-relianceabout it that gave her confidence. And presently, tenderly urged byPeter, she went to the adjoining room to rest, on the understanding thatshe should be called immediately if occasion arose. And that was thefirst night
of many that she passed in undisturbed repose.
In the early morning, entering, she found Peter in sole possession andvery triumphant. They had divided the night, he said, and Hanani hadgone to rest in her turn. All had gone well. He had slept on thethreshold and knew. And now his _mem-sahib_ would sleep through everynight and have no fear.
She smiled at his solicitude though it touched her almost to tears, andgathered in silence to her breast the little frail body that every daynow seemed to feel lighter and smaller. It would not be for verylong--their planning and contriving. Very soon now she would befree--quite free--to sleep as long as she would. But her tired heartwarmed to Peter and to that silent _ayah_ whom he had enlisted in herservice. Through the dark night of her grief the love of her friendsshone with a radiance that penetrated even the deepest shadows. Was thisthe lamp in the desert of which Bernard had spoken so confidently--theLamp that God had lighted to guide her halting feet? Was it by this thatshe would come at last into the Presence of God Himself, and realizethat the wanderers in the wilderness are ever His especial care?
Certainly, as Peter had intimated, she knew her baby to be safe in theirjoint charge. As the days slipped by, it seemed to her that Peter hadimbued the _ayah_ with something of his own devotion, for, though it wasproffered almost silently, she was aware of it at every turn. At anyother time her sympathy for the woman would have fired her interest andled her to attempt to draw her confidence. But the slender thread oflife they guarded, though it bound them with a tie that was almostfriendship, seemed so to fill their minds that they never spoke ofanything else. Stella knew that Hanani loved her and considered her inevery way, but she gave Peter most of the credit for it, Peter and thelittle dying baby she rocked so constantly against her heart. She knewthat many an _ayah_ would lay down her life for her charge. Peter hadchosen well.
Later--when this time of waiting and watching was over, when she wasleft childless and alone--she would try to find out something of thewoman's history, help her if she could, reward her certainly. It wasevident that she was growing old. She had the stoop and the deliberationof age. Probably, she would not have obtained an _ayah's_ post under anyother circumstances. But, notwithstanding these drawbacks, she had awonderful endurance, and she was never startled or at a loss. Stellaoften told herself that she would not have exchanged her for anotherwoman--even a white woman--out of the whole of India had the chanceoffered. Hanani, grave, silent, capable, met every need.