CHAPTER XX.
THE DEVIL'S PECULIARITY?
"This is the devil's peculiarity, he attacks us through our softest places." --SUDERMANN.
After the departure of the troops, life settled down gradually intoits normal groove.
Frank Olliver had moved into the blue bungalow, at Desmond's request,an arrangement more satisfying to Honor than to his wife; and thePioneer Regiment from Pindi had added a couple of ladies to thestation. These were made welcome with the prompt friendliness which isIndia's distinctive charm; and the bachelors, in due course, made thecircuit of Kohat's handful of bungalows. The station was a few degreesless cheerful, owing to the absence of its own particular men; but inIndia spirits must be kept up at all costs, if only as an antidote tothe moral microbes of the land; and the usual small sociabilitiesflourished accordingly.
Evelyn took part in these at first with a chastened air. Not that sheassumed what she did not feel; but that her grief, when it reached aless acute stage, gave her a soothing sense of importance; a kind ofdismal distinction, such as a child feels in the possession of a badlycut finger or a loose tooth. The wind bloweth where it listeth; andsuch thistledown natures are entirely at its mercy. They cannot takedeep root, even where they would. For them the near triumphs over thefar. Like Esau, they will sell their birthright cheerfully for a messof pottage; and they are the raw material of half the tragedies in theworld.
Thus, with the passing of uneventful days, Evelyn began to find itrather uninteresting to be quietly and comfortably unhappy; and theaspect of subdued plaintiveness which she half consciously adoptedwas, in truth, singularly becoming. She was one of those favouredwomen who have the good fortune to do most things becomingly. Her verytears became her, as dewdrops do a rose.
Frank commented on the fact to Honor, in characteristic fashion.
"Sure, 'tis a thousand pities we can't all of us look so pretty whenwe put on a melancholy face! It makes me look such a scarecrow meself,that I'm bound to keep on smiling, out o' sheer vanity, even if meheart's in two!"
"That's one way of putting it," Honor answered, with a very soft lightin her eyes. She had begun to understand lately that this brave womanwas by no means so inured to the hardship and danger of the men sheloved as she would fain have them and the world believe: and the twodrew very near to one another in these weeks of eager looking for newsfrom the hills.
It is not to be supposed that Kresney failed to observe the gradualchange in Evelyn's bearing. The man displayed remarkable tact andskill in detecting the psychological moment for advance. He contentedhimself at first with conversations in the Club Gardens and an air ofdeferential sympathy, which was in itself a subtle form of flattery.But on a certain afternoon of regimental sports, when Evelyn appeared,radiant and smiling, in one of her most irresistible Simla frocks,with an obviously appreciative Pioneer subaltern in attendance,Kresney perceived that the time to assert himself had arrived.
After a short but decisive engagement, he routed that indignantsubaltern; and with a quiet assurance which by no means displeasedher, took and kept possession of Mrs Desmond for the remainder of theafternoon.
That evening he enjoyed his after-dinner cigar as he had not enjoyedit for many weeks. Mrs Desmond was obviously tired of her prettypathetic pose; and he intended to avail himself to the utmost of herrebound towards lightheartedness. He flattered himself that he readher like an open book; that she would be as wax in his hands if hechose to push his advantage. But for all his acuteness, he failed todetect the one good grain hid in a bushel of chaff; or to perceivethat it was not indifference, but the very burden of her anxiety, thatdrove Evelyn to seek distraction in the form of any amusement lyingnear to her hand.
Letters from the Samana were few and brief. The last ones had broughtnews that the expedition seemed likely to prove a more serious affairthan had been anticipated. Unknown to Honor, Evelyn cried herself tosleep that night, and awoke to the decision that she would not be sofoolishly unhappy any more. She would shut her eyes to the hauntinghorrors, and forget. Theo had forbidden her to make herself toomiserable. Why should she not obey him? And she proceeded to do so inher own equivocal fashion.
After the first effort it was fatally easy to slip back into the oldhabit of accepting Kresney's companionship, and his frequentinvitations to the house;--fatally easy to slip even a few degreesfarther without the smallest suspicion of his hand on the reins. Shetook to riding with him--sometimes in the early mornings, sometimes inthe evenings; and these leisurely rides--for Evelyn was nohorsewoman--suited Kresney's taste infinitely better than tennis. Bycautious degrees they increased in frequency and duration; till itbecame evident to the least observant that little Mrs Desmond wasconsoling herself to good purpose.
Honor watched the new trend of events with suppressed wrath anddisgust. That a woman who had won the love of Theo Desmond shoulddescend, even for passing amusement, upon such a travesty of manhood,roused in her a bitterness of rebellion which she had no right tofeel; but which, being only human, she could not altogether banishfrom her heart. Nor were matters made easier by Frank Olliver'speriodical outbursts on the subject. The hot-headed Irishwoman had alarge share of the unreasoning prejudice of her race. She hated as sheloved, wholesale, and without reason. She could make no shadow ofexcuse for Evelyn Desmond; and was only restrained from speaking outher mind by a wholesome fear of her own temper, and a desire to avoida serious breach with Theo Desmond's wife. But with Honor it wasotherwise. Honor, she maintained, had a right to speak, and no rightto be silent; and goaded thus, the girl did at length make a tentativeeffort at remonstrance.
But upon her first words Evelyn flushed hotly.
"For goodness' sake, Honor, don't start interfering again!" she said,in a tone which effectually quenched further discussion.
Thus, without definite intention, they drifted a little apart. Honor,haunted by a sense of having failed Theo at a time of need, found whatconsolation she might in her growing intimacy with Paul Wyndham; whileEvelyn went on her way unchallenged, blind to every consideration butthe need of escape from the haunting dread that she would never seeher husband again. The dissonance between her feelings and her actionstroubled her no whit. Her notions of loyalty were peculiar andinconsistent, like herself; and it is probable that she never gave athought to Kresney's interpretation of her conduct, or to thedangerous nature of the game she was playing.
The man himself was well content, and increasingly self-satisfied. Hecould be an intelligent and mildly amusing companion, when it servedhis turn; and he was beginning to lose sight of Desmond in keenenjoyment of the oldest pastime in the world. They fell intooccasional spells of silence now as they rode--silence such asfamiliarity breeds, and which is not without a degree of danger at acertain stage of intimacy between a man and a woman.
They had been riding thus, for some time, on an afternoon of earlyMarch. Their horses' heads had been turned homeward; for the sun wasnear to setting, and on the Frontier it is unsafe to be out afterdusk. Evelyn's reins lay loose upon the grey mare's neck and her longlashes shadowed her cheek. She seemed to have forgotten hercompanion's presence. Kresney's eyes rested speculatively on herfinely chiselled profile. He found her, on close acquaintance, morecharming than he had expected. She possessed an elusiveness thatcaptivates more surely than beauty. A man could never feel quitecertain of her. She had not been in a very "coming-on disposition"that afternoon. His interest was piqued in consequence, and he was inthe mood to dare a good deal.
He would have given much to know what she was thinking of; and theknowledge would have administered a wholesome shock to his vanity. Hedecided to surprise her with the question, and read the answer in hertoo expressive face.
"What _is_ the absorbing subject?" he demanded suddenly. His tone wasa sufficient index of his progress during the past fortnight.
She flushed and laughed softly, without looking up; and he drew hisown conclusions.
"I don't tell my t
houghts! But I'm sorry if I was rude. I wasthinking, for one thing," she added lightly and mendaciously, "that Iwish it was nearer time to go up to the Hills."
"I don't wonder at that. You're wasted in a place like Kohat."
"That's rubbish!" she rebuked him. But her pleasure in the words wasself-evident.
"And that's modesty!" he capped her promptly, enjoying the deepeningcarnation of the cheek turned towards him. "Will it be Murree againthis year?"
"Yes; I suppose so." She spoke without enthusiasm.
"Wouldn't you prefer Simla?"
"Well, naturally--a thousand times."
"Then why not go there? I would come up too, like a shot. I can get acouple of months this year, and we'd have a ripping time of it. Shallwe call it settled--eh?"
She sighed and shook her head.
"It's too expensive. Besides, there seems to be something wrong withSimla. My husband doesn't like it much; nor does Honor."
The implication in Kresney's laugh was lost upon Evelyn Desmond.
"Oh, well, of course Simla isn't much of a place for husbands," heexplained loftily, "or for girls. It's the bachelors who have a goodtime there,--_and_ the married women."
"Is it? How odd! I should think anybody who cared about dancing andacting, and all that sort of thing, would be bound to have a lovelytime in Simla."
She looked him so simply and straightly in the face that he feltunaccountably ashamed of his questionable remark, and the laugh thathad preceded it--a sensation to which he was little accustomed.
"Yes, yes; daresay you're right," he agreed airily. "But if you're sokeen about the place, why not insist upon going? Wives don't troubleovermuch about obedience nowadays; most of them seem to do whateverthey please."
"Do they? Well, then, I suppose it pleases me to go where my husbandlikes best."
"Very dutiful, indeed!" A shadow of a sneer lurked beneath hisbantering tone, and she reddened again.
"It's not dutiful at all. It's simply because----" She broke offshort. "Oh, I think you're horrid this afternoon. I expect people tomake themselves pleasant when I let them come out with me."
"Well, I'm sure I do my best. But one can never tell where to haveyou. Goodness knows I've shown you plainly that I'm ready to be yourfriend--to any extent; and you've seemed to accept it readilyenough----"
"Well, of course. I like men to like me. I always did----"
"_Men?_"
"Yes, men," she nodded, smiling. "I don't trouble much aboutwomen--except Honor; and _she's_ worth all the men in creation puttogether."
"Desmond included?" Again the covert sneer lurked in his tone, and shedrew herself up with a pretty air of dignity.
"That's not any concern of yours."
"But I tell you it is!" He pressed closer. "More than you've chosen torealise so far. D'you suppose you can go on indefinitely blowing hotand cold with a man; snubbing him one minute and drawing him on thenext?"
"Oh dear! Oh dear! I never bother to suppose things! Haven't I saidthat if you want me to be nice, you mustn't plague me with stupidquestions? At any rate, you're seeing a lot of me now. And you'reriding a lot with me now--isn't that enough?"
"No. It's not enough, Mrs Desmond--Evelyn----"
"Oh, hush--hush! You mustn't say that!" she murmured ineffectually;but he paid no heed.
"You find this sort of thing pleasant enough while Desmond's away; but_will_ you keep it up when he comes back? Tell me that----" He leanedcloser; but she turned her head away, avoiding his gaze.
"Oh, I don't know. How can I possibly tell?" she answered, halfplaintively, half petulantly. "Why _are_ men so tiresome? They neverseem able to enjoy things peaceably without making tragedies andgetting too much in earnest----"
"But how if I am in earnest--in desperate earnest?"
He spoke with sudden vehemence. Something in his tone startled herinto a recollection of the incident at Lahore. And there was no Theoat hand to protect her now.
Forgetful of the loosened rein, and of her insecure hold on thestirrup, she struck the mare more sharply than she knew. Theastonished animal bounded forward, stumbled on a round stone, and camedown on her knees, pitching Evelyn over her head into the dust of themetalled road.
Kresney stifled an oath. "What the devil did the little fool do thatfor?" he muttered between his teeth.
Springing to the ground, he shouted to a passing native child to holdthe two horses, and hurried to Evelyn's side, reflecting as he wentthat, if she were not seriously injured, the accident might have itsadvantages. She was on her knees when he reached her, and was pressingboth hands to her temples.
"Are you badly hurt?" he asked, anger banished by real anxiety.
"I don't--know. Oh--my head--my head!"
The words ended in a sob; she swayed as if she would fall, and quickas thought his arm went round her, pressing her close. But at histouch she recovered herself as if by magic; and pushing him fiercelyaside, staggered panting to her feet.
Kresney stood regarding her for a moment, an evil expression in hiseyes.
"Well, I'm damned!" he broke out at length. "I'm not a disease thatyou should shake me off in that fashion."
"I'm sorry," she said with quick-coming breaths. "You meant to bekind, I know, but--don't touch me again, please."
"I only wanted to keep you from falling in the dust," he retortedhuffily.
"I know. But--I would rather fall in the dust."
She spoke almost in a whisper, yet with such obvious sincerity that heset his teeth viciously and answered nothing.
She remained standing before him, helpless, tantalising,unapproachable, in her childlike dignity. Her head was dazed andthrobbing. Her knees shook under her so persistently that she gave itup at last, and sank down in the road, covering her face with herhands.
"Oh, how _am_ I going to get home?" she moaned, more to herself thanto him.
He came and stood near her again. He was surprised to find how keenlyher distress hurt him, and now that his anger was past, her flash ofindependence made her more alluring than ever.
"If you won't let me lay a finger on you," he said in an altered tone,"I don't see how I can be any use. But if you will condescend to useme as a prop, I'll put you up on the mare, and walk beside you; thenyou can hold on to me if you feel shaky. We are not far off now, andthe boy can take my pony on. Will that suit you?"
She looked up gratefully through a mist of tears.
"Thank you. It is nice of you to be so kind to me after--what I said."
"No man in his senses could be anything but kind to _you_." Andbending down he once more encircled her with his arm, raising her toher feet, and taking his time over the proceeding. For an instant, inmere weakness, she leaned her light weight upon him; and his sense oftriumph was complete.
"No hurry," he assured her gently. "You're very shaky still, youknow."
But she stiffened at the cautious tightening of his arm, and stumbledforward, so that he had some ado to repress his irritation.
He lifted her to the saddle; and, seemingly oblivious that he hadoffered himself as a mere prop, took such full advantage of thepermission to support her till they reached the bungalow, that she wasvaguely troubled, though too dazed and shaken to attempt furtherremonstrance.
"May I come in?" he asked, as he set her on the ground.
"Yes, please come. Won't you stay to dinner?"
"I should like to, awfully."
"Very well then, do."
She managed to walk into the drawing-room; but as he laid her on thesofa, her head fell limply backward, and she fainted.
He stood watching her intently for a few seconds. Then he bent overher, low and lower, till his lips almost rested upon hers. But at thispoint something checked his despicable impulse--perhaps the purity ofher face, or merely its unresisting stillness. Perhaps he chose todefer the pleasure till a more acceptable moment. He straightenedhimself with a jerk; and hastening into the hall, shouted for brandyand soda-water.
Very soon a fai
nt colour crept back into her cheeks. She opened hereyes and smiled up at him.
"Drink some of this," he said. "It's very weak, and you need it."
She took a few sips and set down the glass.
"Better now?" he asked, and leaned over her again, his hand on thesofa back, his lips perilously close to her hair. At that criticalmoment, Wyndham's tall figure appeared in the doorway, closelyfollowed by Honor Meredith.
Kresney's back was towards him; and the tableau presented by the pairwas equivocal, to say the least of it. For an instant Paul stood stillin sheer stupefaction; then he turned to the girl, his grey eyesablaze with indignation, and she had never liked him better than atthat moment.
As he stepped forward, Kresney started up with a stifled oath; and thetwo men confronted one another, in silent, undisguised hostility,while Honor hurried to Evelyn's side.
"What is wrong with Mrs Desmond?" Paul asked coldly, concealing hisnatural anxiety for Theo's wife.
"Oh, she has had a spill. The mare came down with her; and she faintedwhen I got her home."
Kresney's pronounced frigidity was more ludicrous than impressive;and the shadow of a smile lurked beneath Paul's moustache as headdressed himself to Honor.
"Wouldn't it be well to send for Conolly?" he asked. But Evelyninterposed.
"No,--no,--I don't want Dr Conolly. I'm all right now."
She raised herself on her elbow in proof of her statement.
"Mr Kresney was very kind to me. I have asked him to dinner. Won't youstay too?"
"Thanks. I'll go and change, and come back later. You will do thesame, I presume?" And he looked directly at Kresney, who had witenough to perceive that the situation was untenable.
"It's very good of you to want me, Mrs Desmond," he said, elaboratelyignoring Wyndham's remark, "but I'd better not stop to-night. Youwon't be fit for much talking after that nasty tumble."
"Perhaps not. You must come some other night instead. I won't forget."
She held out her hand with marked graciousness, flashing a defiantglance at Paul, who, in sublime unconsciousness, followed Kresney outinto the verandah, and remained standing on the steps till he hadridden out of sight.
No words passed between them except a mutually formal "Good-night."But Paul succeeded in conveying the impression that he regardedhimself as Desmond's representative; and in making Kresney feel moreacutely uncomfortable than he had felt for many a long day. If he haddone no actual harm, the fault did not lie with him; and hisconscience sprang painfully to life under the lash of Wyndham'scontemptuous silence.
In the drawing-room, conversation fared little better.
"Why on earth was Major Wyndham so dignified and disagreeable?" Evelynqueried in a tone of frank annoyance. "It isn't _his_ affair."
"You seem to forget that he is Theo's oldest friend."
Restrained anger quivered in the girl's low voice.
"He has news for you--from the Samana," she added. "There has beensharp fighting. Theo's squadron has done a very dashing bit ofwork;--Major Wyndham will tell you about it, _if_ you care to hear.Now you had better lie quiet till you dress for dinner." And withoutwaiting for an answer she left the room.
* * * * *
Next morning, while she sat at work, wondering how she could broachthe forbidden subject, Evelyn herself came and stood before her with apurposeful air of decision.
"Honor," she said, "I don't want anybody to say anything to--Theoabout my accident. Do you see? It is my business to tell him, and notany one else's. Will you let Mrs Olliver know that, please? I don'tcare to speak to her about it myself."
Honor glanced up quickly.
"No, Evelyn; it would be just as well not. She happened to be crossingthis hill yesterday when you and Mr Kresney were on the lower road;and--she saw you together."
"Just the sort of thing she _would_ do! I hate Mrs Olliver! Alwaysspying on me; and I dare say she won't believe the truth even now. ButI won't have her talking to _Theo_ about me, whatever she mayimagine."
"You know her very little if you think she could do that," Honoranswered quietly. "She only spoke to me because she fancies I haveinfluence with you. But that seems to be over now. You have chosen togo your own way. It is a very dangerous way. However, I can saynothing more on the subject."
Evelyn choked back her rising tears.
"Honor, can't you _see_ that--that I'm frightened and miserable aboutTheo, and I must have something to help me forget? It's no use tryingto make _you_ understand how it feels to have him away upthere--always in danger----"
Honor started and flushed. "Indeed, dear, I do understand," sheanswered, not quite steadily.
Evelyn shook her head.
"You think you do, but you can't really. I know you are great friendswith him, and you'd be very sorry if--if anything happened. But it'sever so much worse for me, because I am--his wife. Now I must go andwrite to him about all this."
And Honor, left alone, leaned back in her chair, hiding her face inher hands.
"God forgive me!" she murmured. "How dare _I_ find fault with her,blessed child that she is!"