CHAPTER XVII.
YOU WANT TO GO!
"White hands cling to the tightened rein, Slipping the spur from the booted heel, Tenderest voices cry 'Turn again!' Red lips tarnish the scabbarded steel. High hopes faint on a warm hearth-stone; He travels the fastest who travels alone." --KIPLING.
For the first six weeks of the new year life flowed serenely enough inthe bungalow on the mound.
Relieved of the greater part of her burden, and re-established in herhusband's heart, Evelyn Desmond blossomed like a flower under thequickening influences of spring. Light natures develop best insunshine: and so long as life asked no hard things of her, Evelyncould be admirably sweet-tempered and self-forgetful--even to theextent of curbing her weakness for superfluous hats and gloves andshoes. A genuine sacrifice, this last, if not on a very high plane.But the limits of such natures are set, and their feats of virtue orvice must be judged accordingly.
To Honor, whose very real sympathy was infallibly tinged with humour,the bearing of this regenerate Evelyn suggested a spoilt child who,having been scolded and forgiven, is disposed to be heroically,ostentatiously good till next time; and her goodness at least waswhole-hearted while it lasted. She made a genuine effort to handle thereins of the household: waxed zealous over Theo's socks and shirts;and sang to his accompaniment in the evenings. Her zest for thetennis-courts waned. She joined Frank and Honor in their frequentrides to the polo-ground, and Kresney found himself unceremoniouslydiscarded like a programme after a dance.
Wounded vanity did not improve his temper, and the ever-present Lindasuffered accordingly. For Kresney, though little given to the weaknessof generosity, never failed to share his grievances liberally withthose about him.
"What is this that has come to little Mrs Desmond?" he demanded oneevening on a querulous note of injury. "Whenever I ask her to playtennis now she always manages to be engaged. I suppose, because theyhave won that confounded Punjab Cup, she thinks she must give herselfairs like the rest of them. But I tell you what, Linda, we have got tomake her understand that she is not going to get money out of us, andthen chuck us in the dirt like a pair of old gloves,--you see? Youmust tell her you are in a hole now, because of that three hundredrupees; that you have been forced to get cash from me to go on with,and to let me know about your little business with her; and you areafraid I may refer the matter to her husband. It would bring hiscursed pride down with a run if he knew that his wife had practicallyborrowed money from me, and he could say nothing against _us_ forhelping her. It is she who would suffer; and I am not keen to push herinto a hot corner if she can be made to behave decently enough to suitme. So just let her know that I will make no trouble about it so longas she is friendly, like she used to be. Then you can ask her to tea;and I bet you five rupees she accepts on the spot!"
* * * * *
Meantime Evelyn Desmond went on her way, in ignorance of the forcesthat were converging to break up her newly-gotten peace of mind. Forthe time being her world was filled and bounded by her husband'spersonality. The renewal of his tenderness and his trust in hereclipsed all the minor troubles of life: and with the unthinkingoptimism of her type she decided that these would all come rightsomehow, some time, sooner or later.
What Desmond himself thought did not transpire. Evelyn's happinessgave him real satisfaction; and if he were already beginning to beaware that his feeling for her left the innermost depths of his natureunstirred, he never acknowledged the fact. A certain refinement ofloyalty forbade him to discuss his wife, even with himself. Herineffectualness and the clinging quality of her love made anirresistible appeal to the vein of chivalry which ran, like a threadof gold, through the man's nature; and if he could not forget, hecould at least try not to remember, that her standard of uprightnessdiffered widely and radically from his own.
When Kresney's tactics resulted in a partial revival of herfriendliness towards him, Desmond accepted the fact with the bestgrace he could muster. Since his promise to the man made definiteobjection impossible, he decided that the matter must be left to thedisintegration of time; and if Kresney could have known how thenecessity chafed Desmond's pride and fastidiousness of spirit, theknowledge would have added relish to his enjoyment of Evelyn'ssociety.
Thus the passing of uneventful days brought them to the middle ofFebruary--to the end of the short, sharp Northern winter, and thefirst far-off whisper of the wrath to come; brought also to HonorMeredith a sudden perception that her year with the Desmonds was verynearly at an end. John's latest letter announced that he hoped to getback to the life and work he loved by the middle of April; and thegirl read that letter with such strangely mixed feelings that she wasat once puzzled and angered by her own seeming inconsistency. John hadalways stood unquestionably first in her life. It would be altogethergood to have him with her again--to be able to devote herself to himentirely as she had dreamed of doing for so many years. And yet....There was no completing the broken sentence, which, for someunaccountable reason, ended in a sigh.
Honor was sitting at the time in her favourite corner of thedrawing-room, on a low settee constructed out of an empty case,cunningly hid, and massed with cushions of dull red and gold. As herlips parted in that unjustifiable sigh she looked round at thefamiliar pictures and hangings; at Desmond's well-worn chair, and thetable beside it with his pipe-rack, a photo of his father, and half adozen favourite books; at the graceful outline of Evelyn's figurewhere she stood by the wide mantelshelf arranging roses in a silverbowl, her head tilted to one side, a shaft of sunlight from one of theslits of windows, fifteen feet up the wall, turning her soft fair hairto gold.
From Evelyn's figure, Honor's glance travelled to the photograph ofDesmond on the piano, and lingered there with a softenedthoughtfulness of gaze. What deep roots she had struck down into thelives of these two since her first sight of that picture! A year agothe man had been a mere name to her; and now----
The clatter of hoofs, followed by Desmond's voice in the verandah,snapped the thread of her thought, and roused Evelyn from thecontemplation of her roses.
"Theo _is_ back early!" she exclaimed: and on the words he entered theroom, elation in every line of him, an unusual light in his eyes.
"What _has_ happened to make you look like that?" she asked. "Somebodyleft you a fortune?"
Desmond laughed, with a peculiar ring of enjoyment.
"No fear! Fortunes don't grow hereabouts! But we've had stirring newsthis morning. A big party of Afridis has crossed the Border and fireda village, murdering and looting cattle and women on a very daringscale. The whole garrison is under orders for a punitive expedition.We shall be off in ten days, if not sooner."
Evelyn's colour ebbed while he was speaking, and she made a quickmovement towards him. But Desmond taking her shoulders between hishands, held her at arm's length, and confronted her with steadfastlysmiling eyes.
"No, no, Ladybird--you're going to be plucky and stand up to this likea soldier's wife, for my sake. The Frontier's been abnormally quietthese many months. It will do us all good to have a taste of real workfor a change."
"Do you mean ... will there be much ... fighting?"
"Well--the Afridis don't take a blow sitting down. We have to burntheir crops, you see; blow up their towers; enforce heavy fines, andgenerally knock it into their heads that they can't defy the IndianGovernment with impunity. Yes; it means fighting--severe or otherwise,according to their pleasure."
"Pleasure!--It sounds simply horrible; and you--I believe you're_glad_ to go!"
"Well, my dear, what else would you have? Not because I'm murderouslyinclined," he added smiling. "Every soldier worth his salt is glad ofa chance to do the work he's paid for. But that's one of the things Ishall never teach you to understand!"
Evelyn turned hurriedly back to her roses. Her throat feltuncomfortably dry, and two tears had escaped in spite of herself.
"How long will you be gone?" she asked, addressing her question to theflowers.
"A month or six weeks. Not longer."
"But won't any one be left to guard the station? In this horribleplace we women don't seem to count a bit. You all rush off after a lotof stupid Afridis."
"Not quite all. An infantry regiment will come up from Pindi: and weleave Paul's squadron behind. Just like his luck to be out of it, poorold man. But six weeks will be gone in no time. This sort of thing ispart and parcel of our life up here. You're not going to fret aboutit, Ladybird--are you?"
He turned her face gently towards him. To his astonishment eagerentreaty shone through her tears, and she caught his hand between herown.
"No, Theo, I needn't fret, because--if somebody has to stay--it canjust as easily be you. You're married and Major Wyndham isn't."
Desmond stepped back a pace, incredulous anger in his eyes. "Evelyn!Are you crazy? It's not the habit of British officers to sneak behindtheir wives when they're wanted at the front. It comes hard on you:but it's the price a woman pays for marrying a soldier and there's noshirking it----"
For answer she clung to his hand, pressing it close against her heart.Instinctively she understood the power of her weakness, and exercisedit to the full. Perhaps, also, an undefined fear of Kresney gave hercourage to persist; and the least mention of the man's name at thatinstant might have averted many things.
"Only this time, please," she murmured, bringing the beseechingsoftness of her eyes and lips very close to his set face. "You'll besorry afterwards if you leave me alone--just now."
"Why just now? Besides, you won't be alone. You will have Honor."
"Yes. But I want you. It has all been so lovely since Christmas.Theo--darling,--I _can't_ let you go, and--and perhaps be killed bythose horrid Afridis. Every one knows how brave you are. They wouldnever think you shirked the fighting. And Major Wyndham would doanything you asked him. Will you--_will_ you?"
Desmond's mouth hardened to a dogged line, and he drew a little awayfrom her; because her entreaty and the disturbing nearness of her facemade resistance harder than he dared allow her to guess.
"My dear little woman, you haven't the smallest notion what you areasking of me. I never bargained for throwing up active service on youraccount; and I'll not give the fellows a chance to insult you byflinging marriage in my teeth."
"That means--you insist on going?"
"My dear--I can do nothing else."
She threw his hand from her with a choking sob.
"Very well, then, go--go! I know, now, that you don't really--care, inyour heart--whatever you may say."
And turning again to the mantelpiece, she laid her head upon her arms.
For a few moments Desmond stood regarding her, a great pain andtenderness in his eyes.
"It is rather cruel of you to put it that way, Ladybird," he saidgently. "Can't you see that this isn't a question--of caring, butsimply of doing my duty? Won't you try and help me, instead of makingthings harder for us both?"
He passed his hand caressingly over her hair, and a little shiver ofmisery went through her at this touch.
"It's all very well to talk grandly about duty," she answered in asmothered voice. "And it's no use pretending to love me--when youwon't do anything I ask. But--you _want_ to go."
Desmond sighed, and instinctively glanced across at Honor for aconfirmation of his resolve not to let tenderness undermine his senseof right. But that which he saw banished all thought of his ownheartache.
She sat leaning a little forward, her hands clasped tightly overMeredith's letter, her face white and strained, her eyes luminous ashe had never yet seen them.
For the shock of his unexpected news had awakened her roughly,abruptly to a very terrible truth. Since his entrance into the roomshe had seen her phantom palace of friendship fall about her like ahouse of cards; had seen, rising from its ruins, that which her brainand will refused to recognise, but which every pulse in her bodyconfirmed beyond possibility of doubt.
Desmond's eyes looking anxiously into hers, roused her to arealisation of her urgent need to be alone with her incrediblediscovery. Her lips lost their firmness; the hot colour surged intoher cheeks; and smoothing out John's letter with uncertain fingers,she rose to her feet.
But in rising she swayed unsteadily; and in an instant Desmond wasbeside her. He had never before seen this girl's composure shaken, andit startled him.
"Honor, what has upset you so?" he asked in a low tone. "Not bad newsof John?" For he had recognised the writing.
She shook her head, fearing the sound of her own voice, and hisunfailing keenness of perception.
"You must be ill, then. I was afraid you were going to faint just now.Come into the dining-room and have a glass of wine."
She acquiesced in silence. It would be simplest to let him attributeher passing weakness to physical causes. And she went forward blindly,resolutely, with a proud lift of her chin, never looking at him once.
He walked beside her, bewildered and distressed, refraining fromspeech till she should be more nearly mistress of herself, and lightlyholding her arm, because she was so evidently in need of support. Shetightened her lips and mastered an imperious impulse to free herselffrom his touch. His unspoken solicitude unnerved her; and a sigh ofpure relief escaped her when he set her down upon a chair, and wentover to the sideboard for some wine.
She sipped it slowly, supporting her head, and at the same timeshielding her eyes from his troubled scrutiny. He sat beside her, onthe table's edge, and waited till the wineglass was half empty beforehe spoke.
"Did you feel at all ill this morning? I'll go for Mackay at once tomake sure there's nothing wrong."
"No--no." There was a touch of impatience in her tone. "Please don'tbother. It is nothing. It will pass."
"I didn't mean to vex you," he answered humbly. "But you are not thesort of woman who goes white to the lips for nothing. Either you areill, or you are badly upset. You promised John to let me take hisplace while he was away, and if you are in any trouble ordifficulty,--don't shut me out. You have done immensely much for bothof us. Give me the chance to do a little for you. Remember, Honor,"his voice took a deeper note of feeling, "you are more to me than theMajor's sister or Ladybird's friend. You are mine, too. Won't you tellme what's wrong?"
At that she pulled herself together and faced him with a bravesemblance of a smile.
"I am very proud to be your friend, Theo. But there are times when thetruest friendship is just to stand on one side and ask no questions.That is what I want you to do now. Please believe that if you couldhelp me, even a little, I would not shut you out."
"I believe you--and I'll not say another word. You will go and liedown, perhaps, till tiffin time?"
"No. I think I will go to Ladybird. She badly needs comforting. Youbroke your news to us rather abruptly, you know. We are not hardenedyet, like Frank, to the boot-and-saddle life here."
"I'm sorry. It was thoughtless of me. We are all so used to it. One'sapt to forget----"
He rose and took a few steps away from her; then, returning, stoodsquarely before her. She had risen also, partly to prove her ownstrength, and partly to put an end to the strain of being alone withhim.
"Honor," he asked, "was I hard with Ladybird? And am I an unpardonablebrute if I insist on holding out against her?"
"Indeed, no! You mustn't dream of doing anything else."
She looked full at him now, forgetful of herself in concern for him.
"I was half afraid--once, that you were going to give way."
"Poor Ladybird! She little guessed how near I came to it. And maybethat's as well, after all."
"Yes, Theo. It would be fatal to begin that way. I quite see how hardit is for her. But she must learn to understand. When it comes toactive service, we women must be put altogether on one side. If wecan't help, we are at least bound not to hinder."
Desmond watched her while she spoke with undisguised admiration.
&n
bsp; "Would you say that with the same assurance, I wonder, if it wereJohn? Or if it happened to be--your own husband?"
A rush of colour flooded her face, but she had strength enough not toturn it aside.
"Of course I would."
"Then I sincerely hope you will marry one of us, Honor. Wives of thatquality are too rare to be wasted on civilians!"
This time she bent her head.
"I should never dream of marrying any one--but a soldier," sheanswered very low. "Now I must go back to my poor Evelyn and help herto see things more from your point of view."
"How endlessly good to us you are," he said with sudden fervour. "Iknow I can count on you to keep her up to the mark, and not let hermake herself too miserable while we are away."
"Yes--yes. I am only so thankful to be here with her--this firsttime."
He stood aside to let her pass; and she went out quickly, holding herhead higher than usual.
He followed at a little distance, still perplexed and thoughtful, butrefraining from the least attempt to account for her very unusualbehaviour. What she did not choose to tell him he would not seek toknow.
On the threshold of the drawing-room he paused.
His wife still stood where he had left her, disconsolately fingeringher roses, her delicate face marred with weeping. Honor went to herstraightway; and putting both arms round her kissed her with apassionate tenderness, intensified by a no less passionateself-reproach.
At the unnerving touch of sympathy Evelyn's grief broke out afresh.
"Oh, Honor--Honor, comfort me!" she sobbed, unaware of her husband'spresence in the doorway. "You're the only one who really cares. And heis so--so pleased about it. That makes it worse than all!"
A spasm of pain crossed Desmond's face, and he turned sharply away.
"Poor little soul!" he reflected as he went; "shall I ever be able tomake her understand?"