CHAPTER XVI.
SIGNED AND SEALED.
"Leave the dead moments to bury their dead; Let us kiss, and break the spell." --OWEN MEREDITH.
The Fancy Ball, given on Old Year's night by the Punjab Commission,was, in Evelyn's eyes, the supreme event of the week; and whenDesmond, after a mad gallop from the Bengal Cavalry Mess, threw openhis bedroom door, he was arrested by a vision altogether unexpected,and altogether satisfying to his fastidious taste.
A transformed Evelyn stood before the long glass, wrapt in happycontemplation of her own image. From the fillet across her forehead,with its tremulous wire antennae, to the sandalled slipper that showedbeneath her silken draperies, all was gold. Two shimmering wings ofgauze sprang from her shoulders; her hair, glittering with gold dust,waved to her waist; and a single row of topaz gleamed on the pearltint of her throat like drops of wine.
"By Jove, Ladybird,--how lovely you look!"
She started, and turned upon him a face of radiance.
"I'm the Golden Butterfly. Do you like me, Theo, really?"
"I do;--no question. Where on earth did you get it all?"
"At Simla, last year. Muriel Walter invented it for me." Her colourdeepened, and she lowered her eyes. "I didn't show it to youbefore,--because----"
"Yes, yes,--I know what you mean. Don't distress yourself over that.You'll have _your_ triumph to-night, Ladybird! Remember my dances,please, when you're besieged by the other fellows! Upon my word, youlook such a perfect butterfly that I shall hardly dare lay a hand onyou!"
"You may dare, though," she said softly. "I won't break in pieces ifyou do."
Shy invitation lurked in her look and tone; but apparently her husbandfailed to perceive it.
"I'll put you to the test later on," he said, with an amused laugh. "Imust go now, and translate myself into Charles Surface, or I'll belate."
Left alone again, she turned back to her looking-glass and sighed; buta single glance at it comforted her surprisingly.
"He was in a hurry," she reflected, by way of further consolation,"and I've got four dances with him after all."
* * * * *
Theo Desmond inscribed few names on his programme beyond those of hiswife, Mrs Olliver, and Honor Meredith.
"You must let me have a good few dances, Honor," he said to her, "andhang Mrs Grundy! We are outsiders here, and you and I understand oneanother."
She surrendered her programme with smiling submission. "Do you alwaysorder people to give you dances in that imperative fashion?"
"Only when I'm set on having them, and daren't risk refusal! I'll goone better than Paul, if I may. I didn't know he had it in him to beso grasping."
And he returned the card on which the initials P. W. appeared fourtimes in Wyndham's neat handwriting.
Never, in all his days had Paul asked a woman to give him four dances;and as he claimed Honor for the first of them, he wondered whether hisnew-found boldness would carry him farther still. Her beauty andgraciousness, her enthusiasm over the afternoon's triumph, exalted himfrom the sober levels of patience and modesty to unscaled heights ofaspiration. But not until their second valse together did an openingfor speech present itself.
They had deserted the packed moving mass, in whose midst dancing waslittle more than a promenade under difficulties, and stood aside inan alcove that opened off the ballroom.
"Look at Evelyn. Isn't she charming in that dress?" Honor exclaimed,as the Golden Butterfly whirled past, like an incarnate sunbeam, inher husband's arms. "I feel a Methuselah when I see how freshly andrapturously she is enjoying it all. This is my seventh CommissionBall, Major Wyndham! No doubt most people think it high time I hid mydiminished head in England. But my head refuses to feeldiminished,"--she lifted it a little in speaking,--"and I prefer toremain where I am."
"On the Border?"
"Yes. On the Border for choice."
"You were keen to get there, I remember," he said, restraining hiseagerness. "And you are not disappointed, after nine months of it?"
"Disappointed?--I think they have been almost the best months of mylife."
She spoke with sudden fervour, looking straight before her into thebrilliant, shifting crowd.
Paul's pulses quickened. He saw possibilities ahead.
"Do you mean----? Would you be content to live there--for good?"
His tone caught her attention, and she turned to him withdisconcerting directness of gaze.
"Yes," she said quietly, "I would be quite content to live on theFrontier--with John, if only he would have me. Now we might surely goon dancing, Major Wyndham."
Paul put his arm about her in silence. His time had not yet come; andhe took up his burden of waiting again, if with less hope, yet withundiminished resolve.
Honor, meanwhile, had leisure to wonder whether she had imagined thatnew note in his voice. If not,--and if he were to repeat the questionin a more definite form--how should she answer him?
In truth she could not tell. Sincere admiration is not always easy todistinguish from love of a certain order. But Paul's bearing throughthe remainder of the dance convinced her that she must have beenmistaken, and she dismissed the subject from her mind.
Leaving her in charge of Desmond, Wyndham slipped on his greatcoat,and spent half an hour pacing to and fro, in the frosty darkness,spangled with keen stars. Here, forgetful of expectant partners, hetook counsel with his cigar and his own sadly sobered heart. More thanonce he asked himself why those months on the Frontier had been amongthe best in Honor Meredith's life. The fervour of her tone haunted himwith uncomfortable persistence; yet, had he put the question to her,it is doubtful whether she could have given him a definite answer,even if she would.
But although the lights and music and laughter had lost their meaningfor him, the great ball of the year went forward merrily in regularalternations of sound and silence, of motion and quiescence, to itsappointed end.
It was during one of the intervals, when eye and ear enjoyed a passingrespite from the whirling wheel of things, that Desmond, coming out ofthe cardroom--where he had been enjoying a rubber and acigarette--caught sight of a gleaming figure standing alone in thepillared entrance to the Hall, and hurried across the desertedballroom. His wife looked pathetically small and unprotected in thewide emptiness of the archway, and the corners of her mouth quiveredas though tears were not far off.
"Oh, Theo,--I _am_ glad!" she said as he reached her side. "I wantedyou--long ago, but I couldn't find you anywhere in the crowd."
"What's the trouble, little woman?" he asked. "Quite surprising to seeyou unappropriated. Any one been bothering you?"
"Yes--a man. One of the stewards introduced him----"
The ready fire flashed in his eyes.
"Confound him! Where is he? What did he do?"
"Nothing--very much. Only--I didn't like it. Come and sit downsomewhere and I'll tell you."
She slipped her hand under his arm, and pressed close to him as theysought out a seat between the rows of glass-fronted book-shelves inwhich the Lawrence Hall library is housed.
"Here you are," he said. "Sit down and tell me exactly what happened."
She glanced nervously at his face, which had in it a touch ofsternness that recalled their painful interview three weeks ago.
"I--I don't think he really knew what he was talking about," shebegan, her eyes on the butterfly fan, which she opened and shutmechanically while speaking. "He began by saying that fancy balls werequite different to other ones; that the real fun of them was thatevery one could say and do just what they pleased, and nothingmattered at all. He said his own dress was specially convenient,because no one could expect a Pierrot to be responsible for hisactions. Then he--he said that by coming as a butterfly I had givenevery man in the room the right to--to catch me if he could. Wasn'tthat hateful?"
"Curse him!" muttered Desmond under his breath. "Well--was that all?"
She shook her h
ead with a rueful smile.
"I don't half like telling you, Theo; you look so stern. I'm afraidyou'll be very angry."
"_Not_ with you, dear. Go on."
"Well, I told him I didn't see it that way at all, and he said ofcourse not; butterflies never _did_ see that people had any right tocatch them; yet they got caught all the same. Then he took tight holdof my hands, and came so close to me that--I was frightened, and askedhim to take me back to the ballroom at once. He said it wasn't fair,that the whole twelve minutes belonged to him, and he wouldn't becheated out of any of it. Then when I was getting up to go away,he--he laughed, and put his arm round me, so that I couldn't move,though I tried to--I did, truly."
At that her husband's arm went round her, and she yielded with a sighof satisfaction to its protective pressure.
"The brute didn't dare to--kiss you, did he, Ladybird?"
"Oh, no--no. The music began, and some people came by, and he had tolet me go. Do men often behave like that at balls, Theo?"
"Well--no; not the right sort!" Desmond answered, a gleam of amusementin his eyes. "But there's always a good sprinkling of the wrong sortin a crowd of this kind, and the stewards ought to be more careful."
"The trouble is that--I gave him two dances. The next one is his, andI _can't_ dance with him again. That's why I so badly wanted to findyou. Listen, they're tuning up now. Must I go and sit in the ladies'room till it's over?"
"Certainly not. Come out and dance it with me."
"Can I? How lovely! I was afraid you were sure to be engaged."
"Of course I am. But as you happen to need me, that doesn't count."
She leaned forward suddenly, and gave him one of her quick, half-shykisses, that were still so much more like the kisses of a child thanof a woman grown. "It is nice to belong to a man like you," shemurmured caressingly. "You really are a dear, Theo! And after I'vebeen so bad to you, too!"
"What's forgiven should be forgotten, Ladybird," he answered,tightening the arm that held her. "So that's a closed subject betweenus,--you understand? Only remember, there must be _no more_ of thatsort of thing. Do you want the compact signed and sealed?" he added,smiling.
"Yes--I do." And he sealed it accordingly.
Two bright tears glistened on her lashes, for she had the grace torealise that she was being blessed and trusted beyond her deserts. Asudden impulse assailed her to tell him everything--now, while hisforgiveness enfolded her and gave her a transitory courage. But habit,and dread of losing the surpassing sweetness of reconciliation sealedher lips; and her poor little impulse went to swell the sum ofunaccomplished things.
He frowned at sight of her mute signals of distress.
"No, no, little woman. That's forbidden also! Come along out; and ifthat cad attempts to interfere with us, I'll send him to the rightabout effectually, I promise you."
"But who _is_ your real partner?" she asked, as they rose to go.
"You are,--who else? My permanent partner!" he answered, smiling downupon her. "I haven't a notion who the other is. Let's stop under thislamp and see."
He consulted his card, and his face clouded for a moment.
"It's Honor! That's rough luck. But at least one can tell her thetruth, and feel sure she'll understand. There she is by that pillar,wondering what has come to me. Jove! How splendid she looks to-night!I wish the Major could set eyes on her."
The girl's tall figure, in its ivory and gold draperies, showedstrikingly against a mass of evergreens, and the simple dignity of thedress she had herself designed emphasised the queenly element in herbeauty.
"Did you think I had deserted you altogether?" Desmond asked, as theydrew near.
"I knew you would come the first moment you could."
"You have a large faith in your friends, Honor."
"I have a very large faith--in you!" she answered simply.
"That's good hearing. But I hardly deserve it at this minute. I havecome to ask if I may throw you over for Ladybird?" And in a few wordshe explained the reason of his strange request.
One glance at Evelyn's face told Honor that the untoward incident haddispelled the last shadow of restraint between husband and wife; andthe loss of a dance with Theo seemed a small price to pay for so happya consummation.
The valse was in full swing now,--a kaleidoscopic confusion of colour,shifting into fresh harmonies with every bar; four hundred peoplecircling ceaselessly over a surface as of polished steel.
Desmond guided his wife along the edge of the crowd till they cameagain to the pillared entrance. Here, where it was possible to standback a little from the dancers, they were confronted by a thickset,heavy-faced man wearing the singularly inept-looking costume of aPierrot. Face and carriage proclaimed that he had enjoyed his dinnervery thoroughly before setting out for the ball; and Evelyn's smallshudder fired the fighting blood in Desmond's veins. It needed aneffort of will not to greet his unsuspecting opponent with a blowbetween the eyes. But instead, he stood his ground and awaiteddevelopments.
The man bestowed upon Evelyn a bow of exaggerated politeness, whichitalicised his scant courtesy towards her partner.
"There's some mistake here," he said bluntly. "This is _my_ dance withMrs Desmond, and I've missed too much of it already."
"Mrs Desmond happens to be my wife," Theo made answer with ominousquietness. "I don't choose that she should be insulted by herpartners; and I am dancing this with her myself."
The incisive tone, low as it was, penetrated the man's muddled brain.His blustering assurance collapsed visibly, increasing fourfold hisludicrous aspect. He staggered backward, muttering incoherent wordsthat might charitably be construed as apology, and passed on into thelibrary, making an ineffectual effort to combine an air of dignifiedindifference with the uncertain gait of a landsman in a heavy sea.
Desmond stood looking after him as he went in mingled pity andcontempt; but Evelyn's eyes never left her husband's face.
His smouldering anger, and the completeness of his power to protecther by a few decisive words, thrilled her with a new, inexplicableintensity,--an emotion that startled her a little, and in the samebreath lifted her to an unreasoning height of happiness.
Unconsciously she pressed close against him as he put his arm roundher.
"You're all safe now, my Ladybird," he said with a low laugh. "Andhonour is satisfied, I suppose! The creature wasn't worth knockingdown, though I could hardly keep my fists off him at the start."
And he swept her forthwith into the heart of the many-coloured crowd.
The valse was more than half over now, and as the music slackened toits close some two hundred couples vanished into the surroundingdimness, each intent on their own few minutes of enjoyment. EvelynDesmond, flushed, silent, palpitating, remained standing at herhusband's side, till they were left practically alone under one of themany arches that surround the great hall.
"That was much too short, wasn't it?" he said. "Now we must go andlook up Honor, and see that she is not left in the lurch."
At that she raised her eyes, and the soft shining in them lent a quiteunusual beauty to her face.
"Must we, Theo,--really? Honor's sure to be all right, and I'm sobadly wanting to sit out--with you."
"Are you, really? That's a charming confession to hear from one'swife. You look different to-night, Ladybird. What's come to you?"
"I don't know," she murmured truthfully; adding so low that he couldbarely catch the words, "Only--I don't seem ever to haveunderstood--till just now how much--I really care----"
"Why,--_Evelyn_!"
Sheer surprise checked further speech, and with a man's instinctivesense of reserve he looked hastily round to make sure that they werealone.
She misread his silence, and slipped a hand under his arm.
"You're not angry, are you--that I--didn't understand sooner?"
"Good heavens, no!"
"Then come--please come. Honor gave me the whole dance.Besides--look!--there she goes with Major Wyndham. She's always happywit
h him!"
Desmond smiled. "That's true enough. No need for us if Paul is in thefield. Come this way, Ladybird. I know the Lawrence Hall of old."
They sought and found a sofa in a retired, shadowy corner.
"That's ever so nice," she said simply. "Sit down there."
He obeyed, and there was a momentary silence between them. Then theemotion astir within her swept all before it. Turning suddenly, sheflung both arms round his neck and hid her face upon his shoulder, herbreath coming in short, dry sobs, like the breath of an overwroughtchild.
Very tenderly, as one who touches that which he fears to bruise orbreak, he drew her close to him, his own pulses quickened by aremembrance of the words that gave the clue to her strange behaviour,and during those few minutes between dance and dance, Evelyn Desmondarrived at a truer knowledge of the man she had married, in thegirlish ignorance of mere fascination, than two years of life with himhad brought to her half-awakened heart.
BOOK II.
"In the reproof of chance Lies the true proof of men." --SHAKESPEARE.