Captain Desmond, V.C.

  CHAPTER XXXII.

  EVEN TO THE UTMOST.

  "How can Love lose, doing of its kind, Even to the utmost?" --EDWIN ARNOLD.

  When Evelyn Desmond stumbled out of her husband's presence, stunned,bewildered, blinded with tears, the one coherent thought left in hermind was--Honor. Amid all that was terrifying and heart-breaking,Honor's love stood sure; a rock in mid-ocean--the one certainty thatwould never fail her, though the world went to pieces under her feet.

  But Honor was not in the drawing-room; and Evelyn knocked timidly ather door.

  "Come in," the low voice sounded from the other side. The girl wasstanding before the looking-glass, pinning on her hat.

  "I was going across to ask after Mr Bradley," she explained,completing the operation before looking round. But at sight ofEvelyn's face she hurried forward, holding out her arms.

  "Dearest, what _has_ happened to make you look like that?"

  "Everything's happened! It's all finished between Theo and me. Brokenup. He said so--and--I'm going away. There are--other people who care.I won't stay with a man who doesn't love me--or trust me----"

  But Honor, holding her closer, looked searchingly into her face."Evelyn, that is _not true!_"

  "Well, he said so. And _he_ doesn't tell lies!"

  "Oh, you poor, poor child!" Honor murmured, kissing her with a strangefervour of sympathy. "But tell me--what's the reason of all this? IfTheo did say such terrible things, he must have been cruelly hurt orvery angry----"

  "He was--very angry. I'm sure he won't forgive me this time; and I dobelieve it would be better all round if I went right away and left himin peace with his polo and his squadron and his precious FrontierForce----"

  Honor's hand closed her lips. "My dear! Are you _quite_ mad?"

  "No. But I think I will be--very soon."

  She spoke with such tragic certainty that the girl smiled in spite ofherself. "Why? What have you done? Tell me--quick!"

  "Oh! It's not _me_ that's done," Evelyn declared with her engaging airof injured innocence. "It's other people--Major Wyndham, Ibelieve--making remarks to him about me and--Mr Kresney."

  "You've been _there_ again. I was half afraid----"

  "Why on earth shouldn't I? But now Theo's simply ordered me to dropthem. It's quite impossible. I--I told him so."

  "And you did not tell him why?"

  "No. That would have been worse than all."

  "But you will tell _me_. You must--if I am to help you."

  Evelyn regarded her with a misty smile. "You're very wonderful, Honor.But even _you_ can't help now. You see--it's money----"

  "Money? How? What?"

  "Promise you won't stop loving me and be angry--like Theo was," Evelynpleaded, the incurable child flashing out in the midst of herdistress. "I've had enough for to-day."

  "I promise, dear. Go on."

  Then the small sordid tragedy came out in broken snatches, to the lastparticle. For once in her life Evelyn Desmond spoke the unvarnishedtruth, adorning nothing, extenuating nothing; and Honour listened inan enigmatical silence--a silence which held even after the last wordhad been spoken. Evelyn looked up at her nervously.

  "Honour, you _are_ angry inside. I can see you are."

  "No,--I am not angry," Honor answered slowly. "Where would be the use?I am simply--astounded that you could _dare_ to run such risks withthe love of a man who is one among a thousand."

  She spoke the last words with unguarded enthusiasm; not perceiving,till they were out, the intent look on Evelyn's face.

  "I knew you were friends with Theo, Honor," she said, "but I neverthought you admired him as much--as all _that_."

  The girl caught the note of jealousy, and coloured to the roots of herhair.

  "I am not alone in my opinion," she said with an uneasy laugh. "Thereare dozens of others who would say no less. It is only that I want youto realise your good fortune before it is too late."

  "But it _is_ too late. If he's angry now he'll be furious when heknows. And unless I go away he will _have_ to know."

  "You shall not go away. And he must never know. He has suffered enoughas it is----"

  "Haven't _I_ suffered just as much? You always think of him----"

  "I am thinking of you both. How much is it that you still owe theseKresneys?"

  "A hundred and fifty--no, two hundred. And I can't possibly pay it formonths and months."

  By this time Honor had crossed to the chest of drawers near her bedand had taken out a small japanned cash-box. Evelyn watched hermovements with ecstatic enlightenment.

  "Honor--what _are_ you going to do?" she asked breathlessly.

  But the girl neither answered nor turned her head. She took out asmall sheaf of notes, locked the cash-box, and put it away. Thentaking an envelope from her rack, she sealed and addressed it, whileEvelyn leaned against the dressing-table, white and speechless fromthe shock of relief.

  "The whole amount is in there," Honor said, handing her the envelope,and speaking in a repressed voice. "Luckily I had hardly touched mymonth's money. This makes you free to do as Theo wishes. I don't wanta penny of it back--ever. And Theo is never to know anything aboutthe whole transaction. Promise me that; and don't _dare_ to break yourword."

  "I promise faithfully. Oh, Honor, you are my good angel! Shall I takeit now--at once?"

  "No. Not you. I must go myself. It ought to be delivered to him inperson, and I must have a stamped receipt."

  "Honor, how horrid! Just as if he were a shop! Besides--nobody but_me_ can give it--or explain----"

  "How can you explain? What will you say?"

  "Just whatever comes into my head. Married women understand these sortof things. I shall know what to say--at the time."

  "So will he. And then----"

  "There you go!" Tears threatened again and her voice shook. "You talkabout loving me and you don't trust me any more than Theo does. If Imayn't do this my own way I won't take the money at all."

  "Don't talk nonsense, child," Honor cried desperately, her ownself-control almost at an end. "You _must_ take it. And if you insiston running risks with your eyes open, there's no more to be saidexcept make haste and get the wretched thing done with. Go at once, inyour jhampan--and _don't_ leave it. Ask for Miss Kresney; and--shop orno shop--mind you get a proper receipt. Then come straight home andtell Theo you will do what he wishes. He will have had time to thinkthings over and it will be all right. I know it will. Perhaps youwould like me to speak of it to him, if I get the chance?"

  "Yes--yes. Do, please! You dear, wonderful Honor! I don't know how tosay thank you enough----"

  But Honor disengaged herself something hurriedly. The ache ofrebellion at her heart made Evelyn's effusiveness unendurable.

  "Don't thank me at all," she said. "I don't want your thanks. Idon't--deserve them. Take care of that envelope; it is worth more thantwo hundred rupees to you--and to me. Now go!"

  And taking her by the shoulders, she put her gently outside the door.Then, drawing a deep breath of relief, stood alone with therealisation of all that had passed.

  It seemed that she was not to be spared one drop of the cup ofbitterness; that to her had been assigned the task of Sisyphus, theceaseless rolling upward of a stone that as ceaselessly rolled down;the continual re-establishment of Evelyn in the shrine of herhusband's heart. And there would be no end to it, even after John'sreturn. So long as these two had need of her, heart and brain andhands would be at their service. She did not definitely think this,because true heroism is unaware of itself. "It feels, and neverreasons; and therefore is always right."

  Honor was aware of nothing just then, but the keen pang ofself-reproach. "God forgive me!" she murmured, forming the words withher lips. "I did it for _him_."

  Then she started, and the blood flew to her face. For Desmond's voice,imperious, entreating, rang clear through the quiet of the house.

  "Ladybird, where _are_ you? Come back!"

  And without a thought of what s
he intended to say, Honor went out tothe completion of her day's work. That was her practical way oflooking at the matter.

  "It will be easy enough," she reflected as she went. The entreaty inDesmond's voice assured her of that.

  But in the drawing-room doorway she stood still, extraordinarilystill. For Desmond himself confronted her; and she had not anticipatedthe ordeal of a face-to-face encounter.

  Involuntarily, inevitably, their eyes met, and lingered in eachother's depths. It was their first real greeting since his return; andthey felt it as such. It was the first time also that Desmond had seenher completely since his lightning-flash of self-knowledge; and in thesame instant the same thought sprang to both their minds--that, in thepast three weeks, the detested shade had served them better than theyknew.

  For a full minute it seemed as if these two, whose courage was aboveproof, did not dare risk movement or speech. But it was no more than aminute. Each was incapable of suspecting the other's hidden fear; andnow, as always, Evelyn was the foremost thought in the minds of both.

  Desmond broke the spell by one step forward.

  "I want Ladybird," he said abruptly. "Where is she?"

  "I'm sorry. She has just gone out; but she won't be long."

  Honor knew what must come next; knew also that she could neither lieto him nor tell him the truth.

  "What possessed her to go out again? Do you know where she went?"

  "Yes, Theo, I do know," she answered, coming into the room, andspeaking with a noble directness that was like a light thrown acrosstortuous ways. "It was unavoidable. I would rather not say any more.You can trust me, can't you?"

  "As I trust God and my own soul," he replied with profound conviction."Did she seem--much upset?"

  "Yes,--terribly upset. Not without reason. She told me everything. MayI speak of it, Theo? You won't think me--intrusive?"

  He gave her a quick, reproachful glance.

  "_You?_ Say what you please. I was a brute to her; and I know it. ButI swear I wasn't hard on her till she refused to break with Kresney.Did she give you any sort of reason for that?"

  "Yes; and I have quite cleared up the difficulty; though I'm afraidyou mustn't ask me how."

  "You seem hedged about with mysteries this evening," he remarked, atrifle curtly. "I confess I like daylight, and straight roads."

  "Not more than I do, Theo. But you have said you can trust me; and atleast I can assure you that there was no question of personalreluctance. Whatever Evelyn's failings may be, I know that _you_ arethe one big thing in her life."

  Desmond compressed his lips, and looked down thoughtfully at thebearskin under his feet; while Honor allowed her eyes to dwell on thegoodly lines of his face. Then he squared his shoulders and looked upat her.

  "Honor--if that is true--and I think it is--you are bound to let mehelp her by the only means in my power. Give me back that promise ofmine. I am strong enough now to tackle the subject; and I warn youfairly that I mean to have my own way. So don't waste time by beatingabout the bush."

  The unexpected attack unbalanced her, and the blood left her face; butthere was no hint of yielding in her eyes. They were equally matchedthese two--strength for strength; will for will. The ultimate victorymight rest with either.

  "Theo!" she protested, "you can ask that of me--to-day?"

  "Yes, precisely--to-day. My mistake--my selfishness, has been verypainfully brought home to me in the last hour; and I don't ask it ofyou--I demand it."

  Honor drew herself up to her full height.

  "You cannot command it, though," she said quietly. "And--I refuse."

  The hot blood mounted to his temples, but he shut his teeth to keepback hasty speech. Then, as the silence grew and deepened betweenthem, anger gave place to an unbounded admiration.

  They were standing now face to face, beside the mantelpiece, exactlyas they had stood on that eventful April afternoon a year ago. Thememory came to them simultaneously; and each saw the light of itspring into the other's eyes. Honor's face softened.

  "You remember," she urged. "I see that you remember; and the argumentsyou admitted then hold even more strongly now. Besides--you said I hadearned the right----"

  "So you have--ten times over since then. But to-day I see my duty toLadybird so clearly, that no one--not even you--must stand in the wayof it. You would realise better how I feel, if you had heard herpitiful excuses. She was 'dull.' She was 'lonely.' I had 'all thosemen,'--so I had. She was right, poor child! Truth is, my life is sorichly filled with 'all those men,' that I sometimes wonder if I wasjustified in bringing a woman into it at all. But having done so, I'mbound to take her where she won't be tempted to entangle herself withcads like Kresney, just because she feels dull and lonely. That's thesource of half the catastrophes one hears of in this country; and innine cases out of ten I blame the husband more than the wife. You see,I happen to believe that when a man takes a woman's life into hishands, he makes himself responsible not only for her honour, but forher happiness and well-being. I'm not setting up a standard for otherfellows, remember. I am simply stating my own by way of explanation."

  Honor's eyes shone with a very tender light.

  "I can only say that Evelyn is--a singularly fortunate woman. If mostmen held such views there would be ninety per cent fewer marriages inthe world."

  "Possibly. But that doesn't put me in the wrong. Now, I have set thepicture before you as I see it----"

  "Yes, with the core of it left out,--the loss to you and to theRegiment."

  "Oh, hang it all!" Desmond protested with an embarrassed laugh. "One'sbound to leave out something. That's the whole art of making a decentpicture! But it strikes me we've had enough of argument. Whether Ihave convinced you or not, Honor, you _must_ let me off that promise."

  The girl held her breath, nerving herself for a last desperate stand.

  "Forgive me, if you know how, Theo," she said; "but I cannot--I willnot give up my right to save you from yourself."

  Desmond simply raised his head and looked at her, as though he couldnot believe that he had heard aright; and when at last he spoke, hisvoice had the level note of authority which she had been dreading tohear.

  "At the risk of seeming brutal, Honor, I warn you that I'll not giveyou one minute's peace till you unsay those words--for Ladybird'ssake."

  Then, to his unspeakable consternation, she took a step backward andsank into the chair behind her, pressing both hands over her eyes.

  "Do whatever you think right," she murmured brokenly. "You are toostrong for me altogether."

  There are victories more bitter than defeat; and Desmond had no wordsin which to answer this girl, who cared so strangely, so intensely,much what became of him.

  When a woman breaks down utterly in the presence of the man who lovesher--whether he dare acknowledge it or no--words are not apt to meetthe exigencies of the case; and Desmond had no other panacea at hiscommand. He could only stand looking down upon her, his hands thrustdeep into his pockets, as if he feared that they might go out to herof their own accord; his eyes darkened with such intensity of painthat it was well for both that hers were shielded from sight of them.

  He longed, beyond all things on earth, to kneel down and comfort her.He knew that three words from him would put an end to her distress,and cancel his own quixotic plan of action. But the words were notuttered; and he remained standing on the hearth-rug with his hands inhis pockets. There was no sign in the quiet room that anythingnoteworthy had taken place. Yet on those two prosaic details thefuture of three lives depended--a man silent when he might havespoken; planted squarely on his feet when he might have been on hisknees.

  Rob got up and stretched himself elaborately, vented his boredom in along musical yawn, then settled down to sleep again in a moreexpansive attitude; and Evelyn's French clock struck six with cheerfulunconcern.

  The silence, which seemed interminable, might possibly have lastedthree minutes, when Honor let fall her hands, and looked up at the manwho had mastered her.
He looked what he was--unconquerable; and if shehad not loved him already, she must infallibly have loved him then.

  "Please understand," she said, and her voice was not quite steady,"that I have not _given_ my consent to this. You have simply wrenchedit from me by the sheer force of--your personality. You have notaltered my conviction by a hair's-breadth. What you have set yourheart on is a piece of unjustifiable quixotism; and I have only onething to beg of you now. Do nothing decisive till you have spoken toPaul."

  Desmond sighed.

  "Very well. I will tackle him to-morrow."

  "What a hurry you are in!" And she smiled faintly.

  "I believe in striking while the iron's hot."

  "And I believe in giving it time to cool. May I--first, say one wordto Paul?"

  "No, certainly not." The refusal came out short and sharp. "If you twocombined forces against me I should be done for! Leave me to managePaul alone."

  With a sigh she rose to her feet.

  Then, quite suddenly, her calmness fell away from her.

  "Theo--Theo," she protested, "if you really persist in this, and carryit through, I don't think I shall ever forgive you."

  The pain in her voice was more than he could bear.

  "For God's sake spare me that!" he pleaded. "I am losing enough as itis."

  And now his hands went out to her irresistibly, in the old impulsivefashion, that seemed an echo from a former life.

  With superlative courage she turned and surrendered both her own. Shewanted to prove herself, at all points, simply his friend; and he gaveher no cause to repent of her courage, or to suspect the strongrestraint he put upon himself during that brief contact, which, at amoment so charged with emotion, might well have proved fatal to themboth.

  "Thank you, Honor," he said quietly.

  But for her, speech was impossible. She bowed her head, and left himstanding alone, with the dregs of victory.

  On reaching the blessed shelter of her own room she bolted the door;and for once in her life grief had its way with her unhindered.

  She could not guess, while railing against Desmond's tenacity ofpurpose, that the same passionate self-reproach which had urged her togo all lengths for Evelyn, was urging him now to a supreme act ofself-devotion to his wife's happiness.