Captain Desmond, V.C.
CHAPTER XII.
NOW IT'S DIFFERENT.
"A word! how it severeth! O Power of Life and Death, In the tongue, as the preacher saith." --BROWNING.
The great monsoon--a majestic onrush of cloud hurtling across theheavens, with dazzle of lightning and clangour of thunder--had longsince rolled up from India's coastline to her utmost hills; bringingnew forms of torment to the patient plains; filling mountain andvalley and water-courses innumerable with the voice of melody.
On the cedar-crowned heights of Murree, dank boughs dripped anddrooped above ill-made houses, that gave free admittance to the moistouter world; tree ferns, springing to sudden life on moss-clad trunksand boughs, showed brilliant as emeralds on velvet. The whole earthwas quick with hidden stirrings and strivings, the whole air quickwith living sound--plash of rain-drops; evensong of birds; gladshouting of cicadas among the branches, and the laughter of a hundredfairy falls.
Theo Desmond drank in the cool green wonder of it all with a keenlyperceptive enjoyment; drew into his lungs deep draughts of the strong,clean mountain air; watched the frail curtain of mist swaying,lifting, spreading to a pearl-white film, till, through a sudden rent,the red gold of sunset burned, deepening to a mass of velvet shadowthe inexpressible blue of rain-washed hills.
His post of observation on this August evening was the saturatedverandah of "The Deodars," where he had flung himself full length inHonor's canvas chair, a pipe between his teeth; hands locked behindhis head; lavishly muddied boots and gaiters outstretched; the wholesupple length of him eloquent of well-earned relaxation and repose.
Three days earlier he had ridden up through a world of driving mistand rain in the wake of Harry Denvil's doolie; having secured ablessed month of respite for himself and two months for the Boy, who,by the efforts of three tireless nurses and a redoubtable Scotchdoctor, had been dragged back from death; and was but just beginningto take hold on life and health again.
From outset to close he had clung to the support of Desmond's presencewith the tenacity of an exhausted body and a fevered brain;--atenacity which could not fail to touch the older man's heart, andwhich had made it difficult for others to take their due share in thenursing. Thus the slow weeks of dependence on one side, and unweariedservice on the other, together with the underlying bond between them,had wrought a closeness of friendship to which the Boy had longaspired; and which promised to add depth and stability to the warmthand uprightness of heart that were already his. Harry Denvil's presentneed was for a tacit wiping out of the past, an unquestioning trust inregard to the future; and his Captain, after the wordless manner ofmen, gave him full assurance of both. It is just this power to drawout the best and strongest by the simple habit of taking it forgranted that marks the true leader; the man who compels because henever insists; whose influence is less a force than a subtleradiation.
And now, as Theo Desmond sat alone fronting a world compact of mistand fire, and the fragrance of moist earth, his mind was mainlyconcerned with the Boy's future, and with certain retrenchments of hisown expenditure, whereby alone he could hope to cancel the debts thatremained after the disposal of Roland. His sole trouble in respect ofthese retrenchments lay in the fact that they must, to some extent,affect his wife. If only she could be persuaded to see the necessityas clearly as he did himself, all would be well. She and Harry hadbeen good friends from the outset. He hoped--he believed--she wouldunderstand.
Light footsteps on the boards behind him brought a smile to his lips;but he neither turned nor stirred. An instant later, hands cool andimponderable as snowflakes rested on his forehead, and silken strandsof hair brushed it softly as his wife leaned over him, nestling herhead against his own.
"Are you very happy sitting there?" she whispered.
"Supremely happy."
"Why? Because you're so nice and wet, and messy?"
"Yes; and a few other reasons as well."
"What other reasons? Me?"
"Naturally, you dear little goose! Come round and let me get a sightof you, instead of perching behind me like a bird."
She came round obediently, standing a little away from him,--a slimstrip of colour that reflected the uncertain sea-tint of hereyes,--and looked down upon his disordered appearance with a smallgrimace.
"I'm not _sure_ that I love you properly, Theo, when you're _quite_ asmuddy as that."
"Oh yes, you do; come on!"
And putting out an arm, he drew her down till she knelt beside him,her hands resting on his knee. He covered them quietly with one of hisown.
"Ladybird, it's turning out a glorious evening! Come for a walk."
"Oh, Theo, _don't_ be so uncomfortably energetic! I hate going out inthe wet. You only came in half an hour ago, and you've been walkingall day."
He laughed--the glad laugh of a truant schoolboy--and knocked theashes out of his pipe.
"I'm capable of walking all night too! Only then you might imagine thehot weather had turned my brain. But indeed, little woman, if you hadbeen sickened with sunlight and scorched earth as I have been for thelast three months, you'd understand how a man may feel a bitlightheaded in the first few days that he's quit of it all."
"And was I very horrid to be playing up here in the cool all thetime?" she asked, pricked by the memory of Honor's words to one of herrare touches of compunction.
"My dear, what nonsense! It would have been double as bad if you hadbeen there too."
Sincerity rang in his tone, and she noted the fact with a sigh ofrelief. She was not altogether heartless, this fragile slip ofwomanhood. She merely desired, like many of us, the comfort of beingselfish without the unbecomingness of appearing so.
"We'll sit out here together and talk till it gets dark," sheannounced with a pretty air of decision, lest the invitation to walkshould be renewed. "Stay where you are, and I'll fetch a stool. It'squite a treat to see you looking lazy for once in a way."
She brought a stool and established herself close to him. Heacknowledged her presence without removing his eyes from thestorm-tossed glory of the sky.
"Look, Ladybird--look!" he urged in a low tone. "We can talkafterwards."
But her attention was caught and riveted by the reflection of theglory in her husband's face.
"Does it please you so tremendously?" she asked in honestbewilderment. "Just a sunset! You've seen hundreds of them before."
He smiled and answered nothing. Speech and emotion inhabit differenthemispheres of a man's brain; woman alone is rash enough to force theminto unwilling union.
The clinging garment of mist, driven and dispersed by day's last flashof self-assertion, lay heaped and tumbled in the valleys, and themountains stood knee-deep in an opalescent sea of foam. It was asthough Nature, in a mood of capricious kindliness, had rent the veil,that mortals might share in the triumphal passing of the sun, whosesupremacy had been in eclipse these many days.
Above the deep-toned quiet of earth, blurred and ragged clouds showedevery conceivable tone of umber and grey, from purest pearl-white todarkest depths of indigo. Only low down, where a blue-black mass endedwith level abruptness, a flaming strip of day was splashed along thewest--one broad brush-stroke, as it were, by some Titanic artist whosepalette held liquid fire. Snows and mist alike caught and flung backthe radiance in a maze of rainbow hues; while beyond the bank ofcloud a vast pale fan of light shot outward and upward to the veryzenith of heaven. Each passing minute wrought some imperceptiblechange of grouping, form, or colour; blurred masses melted to flakesand strata on a groundwork of frail blue; orange deepened to crimson;and anon earth and sky were on fire with tints of garnet and rose.Each several snow-peak blushed like an angel surprised in a good deed.Splashes of colour sprang from cloud-tip to cloud-tip with invisiblespeed, till even the chill east glowed with a faint hue of life.
And in the midst of the transient splendour, enveloped by theisolation of the falling day, husband and wife sat silent, absorbed instrangely opposite reflections
. Verily they dwelt in differentplanets, these two who had willed to be one, but whom forces morepotent held it inexorably apart.
Desmond had long since passed beyond the border-line of definitethought; while Evelyn's mind rapidly reverted to the more congenialatmosphere of things terrestrial. An unknown force was urging her tospeak openly to her husband, to rid herself of the shadow that hadbegun to tarnish the bright surface of life. It would be easier tospeak in dusk than in bald daylight--easier also before the bloom ofreunion had been rubbed off by the prosaic trivialities of life. Inher present position, too, it would be possible to avoid his gaze; andshe found a singular difficulty in tampering with facts when Theo'seyes were on her face.
She watched him speculatively for a few moments, and wondered whatchange would come over him when her tale was told. Anger frightenedand repelled her; and for all his hastiness she had seldom seen morethan a mere spark of his inner fire.
He seemed to have forgotten her existence; and by way of gentlereminder she shifted her position.
"Theo," she said under her breath.
He felt the movement without catching the sound of his name, andturned to her quickly, impulsive speech upon his lips.
"By the way, Ladybird, there's something I want to tell you, and thisis a good opportunity."
The coincidence so startled her that her own half-fledged impulsescurried back to its nest. Nor was she certain whether the sigh thatescaped her expressed disappointment or relief.
"What is it?" she asked--"something nice?"
The characteristic question set him smiling.
"You must judge for yourself. It chiefly concerns the Boy. You're fondof him, aren't you?"
"Yes; he's nice enough. But why?"
"You wouldn't mind if we put ourselves out a little to get him out ofa difficulty?"
"Well, that would rather depend on what we had to do." Her tone,though still pleasant, was guarded. "What kind of difficulty?"
"Money."
She turned her face away something suddenly, and felt very thankfulthat day was fading from the sky.
"Do you mean--lending him money?" she asked blankly.
"No--giving it. I prefer it that way. There's no need to tell you histroubles in detail; it would hardly be fair to him. They, are of akind you can't know anything about; and I hope you never will."
In the fewest possible words he gave her an outline of Harry's story;of the parting with Roland, and the promise he had exacted in returnfor his help. He spoke throughout with such unfailing kindness thatvexation pricked and stung her, like thorns under the skin. She mighthave told him after all. He would not have been angry. Now she hadbeen forestalled. She failed to perceive that the backslidings of hiswife must of necessity touch him more nearly than those of hissubaltern, and that to her own extravagance was added a host of pettyevasions and deceits such as a man of his type would be little able tocondone or understand.
"You see," he was saying when her mind harked back from the excursioninto her own point of view, "the poor fellow has done all he cantowards putting matters straight, and I am thankful I can manage therest myself, so as to give him a fair start for the future."
"But how much is--_your_ share?" she asked, almost in a whisper.
"Rather more than eight hundred rupees."
"And you have actually--_done_ it, Theo?"
"Yes. You surely couldn't have wished otherwise?"
For a moment she hesitated, then her repressed bitterness brimmedover.
"Oh, I don't know. Only I think you might have considered _me_ alittle first. I've more right to your money than he has; and if youcan afford to throw away eight hundred rupees on a careless,extravagant subaltern, you could quite well let me go to Simla; or atleast add something to my dress allowance. It's not so very easy tomanage on the little you give me."
She spoke with averted face in a tone of clear hardness, and each wordsmote her husband like a small sharp stone.
"I am sorry you see it that way," he said, a new restraint in hisvoice, "and that you don't find your allowance sufficient. I give youall I can, and you seem to have pretty frocks enough, anyhow. If I hadeight hundred rupees to throw away,--as you choose to express it,--Ishould hardly have spoken of putting ourselves out; in fact, Ishouldn't have spoken at all. But you have been such good friends withthe Boy all along that I hoped you would be ready to help give him ahand up. I can only manage such a sum by knocking two hundred off mypay for the next four months. This means cutting down expenses alittle; but we can easily do it, Ladybird--_if_ we pull together."
At any other time such an appeal from Theo would have provedirresistible, would have drawn them into a closer union of thought andpurpose than they had ever attained as yet. But the appeal came at thewrong moment, and Evelyn Desmond sat silent, her hands so fastinterlocked that her rings bruised their delicate surface.
"I am thinking of the Boy's mother as well as himself, you see," herhusband urged with increasing gentleness; "he is her only son, and sheis wrapped up in him; and I know from experience what that means."
She lifted her head and faced him.
"You think a great deal too much about--those sort of stray people,Theo, and it's rather hard on me. Why am _I_ to be made uncomfortableon account of Mrs Denvil, when I've never even met her in my life?"
"If you can't see that for yourself, Ladybird, I'm afraid I can't tellyou. I've no taste for preaching sermons."
"It would be rather a mercy if you had no taste for acting themeither," she retorted, with a little laugh that failed to take theedge off her words. "_I_ don't much like them in any form. How are yougoing to cut down expenses?"
"Chiefly in ways that need not concern you. But to start with, I'mafraid I must take you and Honor down with me on the third of nextmonth. I can do nothing while I am crippled by a double establishment.You'll barely miss four weeks up here, and the heat is over earlier inKohat than in the Punjab. Paul gets his leave when mine is up, and hewill spend it here with the Boy, so as to take the last month of rentoff my hands."
"So you've _settled_ it all without saying a word to _me_?"
"Yes. I had to fix things up before I left. It's a pity the difficultyincludes Honor, but I don't think she'll mind when I tell her why."
"Oh dear, no; _Honor_ won't mind. I believe she's happier inKohat,--but----"
"But _you_ are _not_?" he broke out abruptly, leaning forward andsearching her face with anxious eyes.
The vehement question startled her.
"I never said _that_, Theo--and it isn't true. Only--I do hate theugliness and the heat, and September's the loveliest month of all uphere."
"Doesn't it make things any easier to feel you are helping the Boy bygiving up these few weeks of enjoyment?"
"No--it doesn't. Not a bit."
Desmond frowned.
"Try and fancy yourself in a strait like that, Evelyn, and thethundering relief it would be to get out of it."
His words stabbed her unwittingly.
"I'm not good at fancying things, and I'm not good at cutting downexpenses either--I was never taught. I hope you don't do theseuncomfortable sort of things often, Theo. It seems to me you're toomuch inclined to rush in and help people without stopping to thinkof--of other people at all! It would have been much better for theBoy if you'd left him to get clear of his muddle, instead of upsettingevery one by spending money on him that you can't really spare."
Her husband leaned farther back into the shadow, his mouth hardened toa rigid line. All that he chose to say on the subject had been said.
Emboldened by his silence, and the fact that his face was hidden fromher, she continued her small flow of remonstrance, undermining herselfmore completely with each fresh word.
"It was all very well while you were a bachelor for you to go throwingyour life and your money about so foolishly. But now it's different;and I don't think you have a right to do it any more. Where's the goodof us trying so hard to live on our pay, if it's only to be flungabout to help
subalterns who don't try at all? You can't cure MrDenvil of being casual; and for all your generosity, you'll probablyfind him in just as bad a hole again by this time next year."
The words stung him to sharp retort.
"I never asked for _your_ opinion of the Boy, Evelyn; and you seem toforget that he has given me his word."
"Oh, no doubt he has! It's easy enough to make promises when one'sunhappy; but it isn't so easy to keep them when things get smoothagain." And she nodded her head wisely, for her conviction sprang fromthe depths of personal experience.
Her husband rose and walked to the verandah's edge. Here he remainedstanding, his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his Norfolk coat,his eyes fixed absently on the last gleam of light in the west, whereall that now remained of the sunset's stormy splendour was a handfulof filmy fragments, like rose petals dropped from some Olympianrose-bush, and the sickle of a young moon, outrivalled by the mellowradiance of the evening star. The snows lay dead and cold, awaitingthe resurrection of dawn. Their chill pallor struck at his heart in amanner new to him.
Evelyn studied his eloquent outline with a mild surprise. She was nota little proud of her valiant protest against his mistaken ideas; andhe was surely not foolish enough to be annoyed because she had talkedpractical common-sense.
She went to him at last, and lightly touched his arm.
"You look as solemn as a funeral, Theo! Why don't you speak?"
"Because I have no more to say. Too much has been said already. I amsorry I mentioned the matter at all."
With that he turned from her and entered the house.
Honor met him on the threshold, and her eyes were quick to catch thelurking shadow in his. But she merely said what she had come to say.
"Mr Denvil is longing for you. I have done my small best to amuse him;only there comes a stage when nothing will satisfy him but you.Where's Evelyn?"
"Outside there. It's time she came in."
Honor found her by the verandah rails, standing like a pensive ghostin the dying light.
"Studying the sunset, Evelyn?" she remarked cheerfully. "That's a newdeparture for you!"
Whereat Evelyn flung out both hands--a pretty appealing gesture allher own.
"Oh, Honor, Theo's been _so_ troublesome! And he wants to take us downon the third of next month. He will explain to you the why of it all;perhaps you'll understand better than I could. Such high-flown notionsdon't appeal to me a bit. _I_ think Theo is rather like that silly manin the Middle Ages who was always trying to fight windmills, or sheep,or something; and there really ought to be a law to prevent people whowant to go about being unselfish to everybody from ever having wivesat all!"