CHAPTER XIV.
I SIMPLY INSIST.
"The fountains of my hidden life, Are, through thy friendship, fair." --EMERSON.
Not many days later Desmond's advertisements appeared simultaneouslyin the only two newspapers of Upper India; and he set his face like aflint in anticipation of the universal remonstrance in store for him,when the desperate step he had taken became known to the regiment.
He was captain of the finest polo team on the frontier; the one greattournament of the year--open to every Punjab regiment, horse andfoot--would begin in less than a fortnight; and he, who had neverparted with a polo pony in his life, was advertising the pick of hisstable for sale. A proceeding so unprecedented, so perplexing to allwho knew him, could not, in the nature of things, be passed over insilence. Desmond knew--none better--that victory or defeat may hang onthe turn of a hair; that, skilled player though he was, theintroduction of a borrowed pony, almost at the last moment, into ateam trained for months to play in perfect accord was unwise, to saythe least of it; knew also that he would be called upon to justify hisown unwisdom at so critical a juncture, when all hearts were set onwinning the coveted Punjab Cup.
And justification was out of the question,--there lay the sting.
Loyalty to Evelyn sealed his lips; and even the loss of his best-lovedpony was less hard to bear than the possibility of being misjudged byhis brother officers, whose faith in him had come to be an integralpart of his life.
In his present cooler frame of mind he saw that his action had beenover-hasty; but with men of vehement temperament, to think is to feel,to feel is to act,--reflection comes last, if it ever comes at all.The first heat of vexation, the discovery of his wife'suntrustworthiness and the sacrifice it entailed, had blinded him toall minor considerations.
But these were details that could not be put into words. The thing wasdone. To put a brave face on it, and to shield Evelyn from the resultof her own misdoing--there lay his simple duty in a nutshell. The riskmust be accepted, and the Punjab Cup carried off in its despite. Thisman owed more than he knew to the "beholden face of victory"; to hislife-long determination that, no matter what happened, he mustconquer.
In the meanwhile immediate issues demanded his full attention.
Harry Denvil, as might be expected, sounded the first note of protest.
He invaded the sacred precincts of his senior's study with audaciouslack of ceremony.
"Forgive me, Desmond: but there was no one in the verandah, and Icouldn't wait. Of course you know what's in the wind. The Colonel cameon that advertisement of yours in 'The Pioneer' just before tiffin,and you should have heard him swear! He showed it to Major Wyndham,and asked: 'Was it a practical joke?' But the Major seemed quite cutup; said he knew nothing about it, and you would probably have goodreasons to give. The rest didn't take it so quietly; but of course _I_understood at once. For God's sake, old chap, cancel that confoundedadvertisement, and take back your eight hundred. I can borrow it againfrom the _shroff_, just for the present. Anything's better thanletting you in for the loss of Diamond at a time like this."
He broke off more from lack of breath than lack of matter; andDesmond, who had risen to cope with the intruder, put both hands uponthe Boy's shoulders, a great kindliness softening his eyes.
"My dear Harry, don't distress yourself," he said. "I appreciate yourgenerosity a good deal more than I care to say. But you are not in anyway to blame for the loss of Diamond."
"But, Desmond--I don't understand----"
"There are more things in heaven and earth...!" Desmond quoted,smiling. "It's like your impertinence to understand everything atfour-and-twenty."
"Oh, shut up!" the other retorted, laughing in spite of himself."Can't you see I'm in earnest? You don't mean to tell me----?"
"No, Harry, I don't mean to tell you anything about it. I'm notresponsible to you for my actions. Stay and have a pipe with me tocool you down a bit. Not another word about my affairs, or I take youby the shoulders and put you outside the door."
Thus much for Denvil. But the rest could not be treated in thissummary fashion.
Wyndham put in an appearance at polo that afternoon. He playedfitfully; and at other times rode out to the ground, which lay a mileor so beyond the station. To-day it chanced--or possibly Paul socontrived it--that he and Desmond rode home together, a little behindthe others.
A low sun stretched out all the hills; distorted the shadows of theriders; and flung a golden pollen of radiance over the barren land.
The habit of silence was strong between these two men; and for a whileit lasted unbroken. Desmond was riding his favourite pony, a spiritedchestnut Arab, swift as a swallow, sensitive as a child, bearing onhis forehead the white star to which he owed his name. The snafflehung loose upon his neck, and Desmond's hand rested upon the silkenshoulder as if in a mute caress. He knew what was coming, and awaitedPaul's pleasure with stoical resignation.
Wyndham considered the strong, straight lines of his friend's profilethoughtfully; then he spoke:
"You gave us all rather a shock this morning, Theo."
"I'm sorry for that. I was afraid there'd be some bother about it. Butneeds must--when the devil drives."
"The devil that drives you is your own incurable pride," Paul answeredwith unusual warmth. "You know, without forcing me to put it inwords, that every rupee I possess is at your service. You might havegiven me a chance before going such lengths as this."
Desmond shook his head. The man's fastidious soul revolted from theidea of using Paul's money to pay his wife's bills.
"Not in these circumstances," he said. "It wasn't pride that held meback; but a natural sense of the justice and--fitness of things. Youmust take that on trust, Paul."
"Why, of course, my dear chap. But how about the fitness of partingwith that pony just before the tournament? As captain of the team, doyou think you are acting quite fairly by the Regiment?"
The shot told. Among soldiers of the best sort the Regiment is apt tobe a fetish, and to Desmond the lightest imputation of disregard forits welfare was intolerable.
"Is that how the other fellows look at it?" he asked, a troubled notein his voice.
"Well, if they do, one can hardly blame them. They naturally want toknow what you mean to do about the tournament after you have let yourbest pony go? I take it for granted that you have some sort of plan inyour head."
"Yes. I am counting on you to lend me Esmeralda. It's only the 6thnow; and if I train her for all I'm worth between this and the 20th, Ican get her up to the scratch."
Paul's answering smile was oddly compact of tenderness and humour.
"So that's your notion? You'll deign to make use of me so far? Upon mysoul, Theo, you deserve that I should refuse, since you won't give methe satisfaction of doing what would be far more to the purpose."
Desmond looked his friend steadily in the eyes.
"You'll not refuse, though," he said quietly, and Paul shook his head.By way of thanks, Theo laid his hand impulsively upon Wyndham's arm.
"I'm sure you understand, dear old man, that it's not easy or pleasantfor me to part with Diamond, or to shut you out and refuse your help;but I can't endure that the rest of them should think me slack orcareless of their interests."
"They know you far too well to think anything of the sort. By the way,what arrangements are you making for Lahore?"
"None at all. Honor will go, I daresay; and I shall run down for thepolo. But fifteen days' leave is out of the question."
Paul turned sharply in his saddle.
"Now, look here, Theo--you're going too far. I make no offer thistime. I simply insist!"
Desmond hesitated. The thought of Evelyn was knocking at his heart.
"You know I hate accepting that sort of thing," he objected, "evenfrom you."
Wyndham laughed.
"That's your peculiar form of selfishness, my dear chap. You want tokeep the monopoly of giving in your own hands. Very wholes
ome for youto have the tables turned. Besides," urged the diplomatist, boldlylaying down his trump card, "it would be a great disappointment toyour wife not to go down with us all and see the matches."
"Yes. That's just the difficulty."
"I'm delighted to hear it! The Lahore week shall be my Christmaspresent to her and you; and there's an end of _that_ dilemma."
"Thank you, Paul," Desmond said simply. "I'll tell her to-night. Comeover to dinner," he added as they parted. "The Ollivers will be there;and I may stand in need of protection."
The sound of music greeted him from the hall, and he found Honorplaying alone in the dusk.
"Please go on," he said, as she rose to greet him. "It's what I wantmore than anything at this moment."
The girl flushed softly, and turned back to the instrument. Any onewho had heard her playing before Desmond came in, could scarcely havefailed to note the subtle change in its quality. She made of her musica voice of sympathy, evolved from the heart of the great Germanmasters; whose satisfying strength and simplicity--so far removed fromthe restless questioning of our later day--were surely the outcome ofa large faith in God; of the certainty that effort, aspiration, andendurance, despite their seeming futility, can never fail to be verymuch worth while.
In this fashion Honor reassured her friend to his completecomprehension; and while he sat listening and watching her in the halflight, he fell to wondering how it came about that this girl, with hergenerous warmth of heart, her twofold beauty of the spirit and theflesh, should still be finding her central interest in the lives ofothers rather than in her own. Was the inevitable awakening over anddone with? Or was it yet to come? He inclined to the latter view, andthe thought of Paul sprang to his mind. Here, surely, was the onewoman worthy of his friend. But then, Paul held strong views aboutmarriage, and it was almost impossible to picture the good fellow inlove.
Nevertheless, the good fellow was, at that time, more profoundly, moreirrevocably in love than Desmond himself had ever been,notwithstanding the fact of his marriage. His theories had proved meredust in the balance when weighed against his strong, simple-heartedlove for Honor Meredith. Yet the passing of nine months found him nonearer to open recantation. If a man has learnt nothing else by thetime he is thirty-eight, he has usually gained possession of his soul,and at no stage of his life had Paul shown the least talent for takinga situation by storm. In the attainment of Honor's friendship, thismost modest of men felt himself blest beyond desert; and watch as hemight for the least indication of a deeper feeling, he had hithertowatched in vain. It never occurred to him that his peculiarly reticentform of wooing--if wooing it could be called--was hardly calculated toenlighten her as to the state of his heart. He merely reined in hisgreat longing and awaited possible developments; accepting, in allthankfulness, the certain good that was his, and determined not torisk the loss of it without some hope of greater gain.
But of all these things Desmond guessed nothing as he sat, in the duskof that December evening, speculating on the fate of the girl whosefriendship he frankly regarded as one of the goodliest gifts of life.
When at last she rose from the piano, he rose also.
"_Thank_ you," he said with quiet emphasis. "How well you understand!"
"Don't let yourself be troubled by anything the Ollivers may say orthink," she answered softly. "You are doing your simple duty, Theo,and I am sure Major Wyndham, even without knowing all the facts, willunderstand quite as well--as I do."
With that she left him, because the fulness of her understanding put acheck upon further speech.
That night, when the little party had broken up without open warfare,and Desmond stood alone with his wife before the drawing-room fire, hetold her of Wyndham's generosity.
"You'll get your week at Lahore, Ladybird," he said. "And you owe itto Paul. He wishes us to accept the trip as his Christmas present."
"Oh, Theo...!" A quick flush revealed her delight at the news, and shemade a small movement towards him; but nothing came of it. Six monthsago she would have nestled close to him, certain of the tenderendearments which had grown strangely infrequent of late. Now anindefinable shyness checked the spontaneous caress, the eager wordsupon her lips. But her husband, who was looking thoughtfully into thefire, seemed serenely unaware of the fact.
"You're happy about it, aren't you?" he asked at length.
"Yes--of course--very happy."
"That's all right; and I'm glad I wasn't driven to disappoint you. Nowget to bed; and sleep soundly on your rare bit of good luck. I havestill a lot of work to get through."
She accepted his kindly dismissal with an altogether new docility; andon arriving in her own room gave conclusive proof of her happiness byflinging herself on the bed in a paroxysm of stifled sobbing.
"Oh, if only I had told him sooner!" she lamented through her tears."Now I don't believe he'll ever really forgive me, or love me properlyagain."
And, in a measure, she was right. Trust her he might, as in dutybound; but to be as he had been before eating the bitter fruit ofknowledge was, for the present at all events, out of his power.
Since their momentous talk nearly a week ago, Evelyn had felt herselfimperceptibly held at arms' length, and the vagueness of the sensationincreased her discomfort tenfold. No word of reproach had passed hislips, nor any further mention of Diamond or the bills; nothing soquickly breeds constraint between two people as conscious avoidance ofa subject that is seldom absent from the minds of both. Yet Theo wasscrupulously kind, forbearing, good-tempered--everything, in short,save the tender, lover-like husband he had been to her during thefirst eighteen months of marriage. And she had only herself toblame,--there lay the sharpest pang of all. Life holds no anodyne forthe sorrows we bring upon ourselves.
As the days wore on she watched Theo's face anxiously, at post time,for any sign of an answer to that hateful advertisement; and beforethe week's end she knew that the punishment that should have been hershad fallen on her husband's shoulders.
Coming into breakfast one morning, she found him studying an openletter with a deep furrow between his brows. At sight of her hestarted and slipped it into his pocket.
The meal was a silent one. Evelyn found the pattern of her platecuriously engrossing. Desmond, after a few hurried mouthfuls, excusedhimself and went out. Then Evelyn looked up; and the tears that hungon her lashes overflowed.
"He--he's gone to the stables, Honor," she said brokenly. "He got ananswer this morning;--I'm sure he did. But he--he won't tell meanything now. Where's the _use_ of being married to him if he's alwaysgoing on like this? I wish--I wish he could sell--_me_ to that man,instead of Diamond. He wouldn't mind it _half_ as much----"
And with this tragic announcement--which, for at least five minutes,she implicitly believed--her head went down upon her hands.
Honor soothed her very tenderly, realising that she sorrowed with thedespair of a child who sees the world's end in every broken toy.
"Hush--hush!" she remonstrated. "You mustn't think anything sofoolish, so unjust. Theo is very magnanimous, Evelyn. He will see youare sorry, and then it will all go smoothly again."
"But there's the--the other thing," murmured the pretty sinner with adoleful shake of her head. "He won't forgive me that; and he _doesn't_seem to see that I'm sorry. I wanted to tell him this morning, when Isaw that letter. But he somehow makes me afraid to say a word aboutit."
"Better not try yet awhile, dear. When a man is in trouble, there isnothing he thanks one for so heartily as for letting him alone till itis well over."
Evelyn looked up again with a misty smile.
"I can't think why you know so much about men, Honor. How do you findout those sort of things?"
"I suppose it's because I've always cared very much for men,"--shemade the statement quite unblushingly. "Loving people is the only sureway of understanding them in the long-run."
"_Is_ it?... You are clever, Honor. But it doesn't seem to help memuch with Theo."
Such prompt, pe
rsonal application of her philosophy of the heart was alittle disconcerting. The girl could not well reply that in love thereare a thousand shades, and very few are worthy of the name.
"It _will_ help you in time," she said reassuringly. "It is one of thefew things that cannot fail. And to-day, at least, you have learntthat when things are going hardly with Theo, it is kindest and wisestto leave him alone."
Evelyn understood this last, and registered a valiant resolve to thateffect.
But the day's events gave her small chance of acting on her new-foundknowledge. Desmond himself took the initiative: and save for a barehalf-hour at tiffin, she saw him no more until the evening.
Perhaps only the man who has trained and loved a polo pony canestimate the pain and rebellion of spirit that he was combating,doggedly and in silence; or condone the passing bitterness he felttowards his uncomprehending wife.
He spent more time than usual in the stables, where Diamond nuzzledinto his breast-pocket for slices of apple and sugar; and Diamond's_sais_ lifted up his voice and wept, on receipt of an order to startfor Pindi with his charge on the following day.
"There is no Sahib like my Sahib in all Hind," he protested, histurban within an inch of Desmond's riding-boot. "The Sahib is myfather and my mother! How should we serve a stranger, Hazur,--the ponyand I?"
"Nevertheless, it is an order," Desmond answered not unkindly, "thatthou shouldst remain with the pony, sending word from time to timethat all goeth well with him. Rise up. It is enough."
Returning to the house, he hardened his heart, and accepted theunwelcome offer from Pindi.
"What a confounded fool I am!" he muttered, as he stamped and sealedthe envelope. "I'd sooner shoot the little chap than part with him inthis way."
But the letter was posted, nevertheless.
He excused himself from polo, and rode over to Wyndham's bungalow,where he found Paul established in the verandah with his invariablecompanions--a pipe, and a volume of poetry or philosophy.
"Come along, and beat me at rackets, old man," he said withoutdismounting. "I'm 'off' polo to-day. We can go for a canterafterwards."
Wyndham needed no further explanation. A glance at Theo's face wasenough. They spent four hours together; talked of all things in heavenand earth, except the one sore subject; and parted with a smile ofamused understanding.
"Quite like old times!" Paul remarked, and Desmond nodded. For it wasa habit, dating from early days, that whenever the pin-pricks of lifechafed Theo's impatient spirit, he would seek out his friend, spend anhour or two in his company, and tell him precisely nothing.
Thanks to Paul's good offices, dinner was a pleasanter meal than theearlier ones had been. But Evelyn looked white and woe-begone; andHonor wisely carried her off to bed, leaving Desmond to his pipe andhis own discouraging thoughts.
These proved so engrossing that he failed to hear a step in theverandah, and started when two hands came quietly down upon hisshoulders.
No need to ask whose they were. Desmond put up his own and caught themin a strong grip.
"Old times again, is it?" he asked, with a short satisfied laugh."Brought your pipe along?"
"Yes."
"Good business. There's your chair,--it always seems yours to mestill. Have a 'peg'?"
Paul shook his head, and drew his chair up to the fire with deliberatesatisfaction.
"Light up, then; and we'll make a night of it as we used to do in thedays before we learned wisdom, and paid for it in hard cash."
"Talking of hard cash--what price d'you get?" the other askedabruptly.
"Seven-fifty."
"Will that cover everything?"
"Yes."
"Theo,--why, in Heaven's name, won't you cancel this wretchedbusiness, and take the money from me instead?"
"Too late now. And, in any case, it's out of the question, for reasonsthat you would be the first to appreciate--if you knew them."
"But look here--suppose I do know----"
Desmond lifted a peremptory hand.
"Whatever you think you know, for God's sake don't put it into words.I'm bound to go through with this, Paul, in the only way that seemsright to me. Don't make it harder than it is already. Besides," headded, with a brisk change of tone, "this is modern history! We'repledged to old times to-night."
Evelyn's fantastic French clock struck three, in silver tones, beforethe two men parted.
"It's an ill wind that blows no good, after all!" Desmond remarked, ashe stood in a wide splash of moonlight on the verandah steps. "I feelten years younger since the morning. Come again soon, dear old man;it's always good to see you."
And Paul Wyndham, riding homeward under the myriad lamps of heaven,thanked God, in his simple devout fashion, for the courage andconstancy of his friend's heart.