Banked Fires
CHAPTER X
THE MISSION
Life at a small station like Muktiarbad would have been a dull affairfor any young girl not constituted like Honor Bright. Being endowed withplenty of common sense and sincerity of purpose, she found a great dealto occupy her in her restricted circle by throwing herself into thebusiness of the moment, heart and soul. If it were an early morningride, she enjoyed every yard of it, and all there was to see and do.Even the flat countryside with its endless fields of paddy and mustardwere good to view because Muktiarbad was "home" to her.
"Define the word 'home,'" she was once asked when very young. "WhereMother is," was her ready reply. "Where Love is," would be her later andmore comprehensive amendment.
When she played tennis she played to win, and her enthusiasm infectedothers, till the game was worth the energy, however great the heat. Ifhouse-duties were imposed on her, they were accomplished thoroughly andcheerfully. Honor striding across the back-yard to examine the horses intheir stalls, the condition of their bedding, and to see them fed; or toinspect the chicken run; or visiting the kitchen to view pots and panswhich were arranged at a particular hour, bottom up, in a row, to provehow perfectly aluminium could be made to shine, was a refreshing sight;and the grace of her gait, the freedom of her movements, and thebrightness of her looks, brought sunshine to hearts on the darkest days.
In spite of Mrs. Bright's confidence in her faithful Kareem Majid, shenever neglected to supervise those details of housekeeping in India thatmake all the difference between sickness and health, economy andextravagance. "For, however wonderful the dear servants are, they dowant watching," she would explain to inquiring friends. "You simply haveto see what they are up to, or run terrible risks of microbes in thekitchen, horses falling ill, and eggs getting beautifully less. They arewithout the remotest idea of sanitation for man or beast, and revel indirt if you let them, poor things! And honesty is not their strongpoint; they have to be checked on all accounts, or they will sellvegetables from your kitchen garden to your neighbours who have none; orsell you your own hens' eggs, and do heaps of other iniquitous thingsyou could hardly dream of!" So Honor was carefully instructed in theways of housekeeping from the moment of her return to the East, and wasan able lieutenant to her mother.
"Besides, it is only right and proper, since, one of these days you willhave a house of your own and ought to know how to run it, or I pity theunfortunate man you marry!" Mrs. Bright remarked when introducing herdaughter to further mysteries in the art of housekeeping. "Which puts mein mind of Tommy Deare," she continued, eyeing Honor gravely. "What doyou mean to do with him?"
"I don't mean to do anything with him," laughed the girl.
"You know he is in love with you--any one can see that."
"I know, because he won't let me forget it," Honor said ruefully.
"Yet you are often about with him, riding and playing tennis--is it fairto fan his hopes?"
"He knows perfectly how I feel towards him. Short of putting him inCoventry I can do nothing less than I am doing."
"But the worst of it is that he keeps others off!" Mrs. Brightexclaimed. "There's Jack Darling who lives with him--such a nice boy anda very excellent suitor from every point of view----"
"He is not a suitor, by any means," interrupted her daughter.
"He might have been if his friend were not over head and ears in lovewith you!"
"I should not have encouraged him. Jack does not appeal to me. He isvery dear and charming, but not the sort of man I should lose my heartto. He is weak--and I love strength."
"But, dear, surely you are not favouring Tommy?--he will never beanything great in our Service. You have the example of your own fatherwho has come to the end of his prospects on an income that would havebeen hopelessly inadequate had there been boys to educate and start inlife! That's what our Service is worth! While Jack--!" words failed herto express her estimation of the Indian Civil Service of which Jack wasa promising member.
"But dear Mother, I am not going to marry a Service!" laughed Honor."When I fall in love with a Man it won't much matter what job he is in,or what prospects he has. And if he is in love with me, and wants me,why"--she left the obvious conclusion to her mother's imagination. "Butrest assured, whoever he may be, he will never be Tommy!" she added byway of consolation.
The morning after the dinner-party was typical of late October in theplains of Bengal, with its dewy freshness of atmosphere and a nip in thenorth wind that was an earnest of approaching winter--if the season ofcold weather might be so termed, when fires were never a necessity, andfrost was rare. It was, however, a time of pleasant drought when thestate of the weather could be depended upon for weeks ahead, with blueskies, a kinder sun, and dead leaves carpeting the earth withoutdenuding the trees of their wealth of foliage.
Outside the Bara Koti a light haze was visible through the branches ofthe trees, lying like a thin veil on the distant horizon; and, overhead,light fleecy clouds drifted imperceptibly across the blue sky. It wasthe hour popularly believed to be the best in the twenty-four, whichaccounted for Mrs. Meredith's ayah wheeling the baby through the dustylanes, in a magnificent perambulator, "to eat the air."
"_Hawa khane_," translated Honor Bright critically, as she drew rein andmoved her pony aside to make way. She was riding, in company with TommyDeare, to Sombari that she might learn the latest news of Elsie Meek, agirl of her own age and one for whom she had much sympathy. Elsie hadbeen undergoing the training necessary to fit her for becoming amissionary, irrespective of her talents in other directions; and Honorhad often thought of her with sympathy. But Mr. Meek had his own ideasrespecting his daughter's career, and Mrs. Meek had long since ceased tovoice her own. "_Hawa khane!_--how queerly the natives expressthemselves!" Her remark had followed the ayah's explanation of herappearance with the child. "Mother says it is a mistake for delicatechildren to be out before sunrise to 'eat the air.'"
"Eat microbes, I should suggest," corrected Tommy. "A case of 'The EarlyBabe catches the Germ.'"
"How smart of you!--how do you do it so early in the morning?"
"Inherent wit," said Tommy complacently. "You press a button and outcomes an epigram, or something brilliant."
"You've missed your vocation, it seems. I am sure you might have made afortune as another George Robey!"
While Tommy affected to collapse under the lash of her satire, she leaptfrom the saddle to imprint a kiss on the rose-leaf skin of the infant'scheek. "What a perfect doll it is--did any one see any thing half soadorable!"
"It seems to me like all other babies," Tommy remarked indifferently."When it isn't asleep it is bawling; when it isn't bawling it's asleep.I have yet to understand why a girl can never pass a pram withoutstopping to kiss the baby in it!" Nevertheless, he thought it a pleasinghabit with which he was not inclined to quarrel, but for the delay itoccasioned in the ride.
"I would like you to tell Mrs. Meredith that the Squawk is like allother babies in the world and hear what she has to say!" Honor saidindignantly. "This one is angelic!"
Tommy dismounted with the air of a martyr and peered at the bundlecontaining a human atom almost smothered in silk and laces. "Hallo! itseyes are actually open! It is the first time I have seen the miracle.Peep-bo!" he squeaked, bobbing his head at the apparition and crooking afinger up and down a few inches from the infant's nose.
"Tommy, you are a silly!" Honor exploded with laughter. "As if it canunderstand. You might be a tree for all it knows!"
"Then all I can say is, I have no use for kids until they develop someintellect." He assisted her to remount and they continued their way toSombari. Soon, the last of the bungalows was left behind and they werecantering side by side along the main road which divided paddy fieldsstill containing stagnant rain water and the decaying stalks of theharvested corn. At intervals on the road pipal trees afforded shelter totravellers by the wayside. In the distance, across rough countryovergrown with scrub and coarse, thatching grass, could be seen theminarets o
f an ancient ruin--Muktiarbad's one and only show-place forsightseers--too familiar to the inhabitants to excite even passingnotice.
In the meantime Honor soliloquised aloud--"I do so wish we could getMrs. Meredith more reconciled to India," she sighed. "She has only onepoint of view at present, and that is a mother's. If she could only bemade to see her husband's point of view and realise also her duties as awife, she would be perfect, for Joyce Meredith is very lovable and good.I never knew any one so pretty and so free from personal vanity. But sheis too sure of her husband. Too certain that he will go on worshippingher no matter what she does or how she treats him; and, after all, Isuppose even love can die for want of sustenance. It seems to me shegives all she has to give to the baby, and her husband is left to pickup the crumbs that fall from her table!"
"It will end as all such marriages end," said Tommy. "She is only halfawake to life, and too pretty for every-day use. Meredith should awakenher by flirting with Mrs. Fox; otherwise someone else will do it byflirting with his wife. I wouldn't put it beyond the doctor."
Honor stiffened visibly. "Why do you say that?" she asked coldly.
"Well, he is given every opportunity. Last night, for instance, on ourway home from your place, Smart and I saw his motor in the avenue of theBara Koti. It was under the trees with a shaft of moonlight full on thesteering wheel. If he had wanted to make it invisible, he ought to havereckoned on the hour and the moon. We thought he had gone to Sombari,but he was singing to Mrs. Meredith."
"Is that true?" Honor asked in low tones of pained surprise.
"We both pulled up outside the cactus hedge till the song was finished.He was singing _Temple Bells_!"
So he had not gone to Sombari after all! It had only been an excuse forhim to get away from the party. He was evidently not above lying,and--Joyce Meredith was so beautiful!
And Joyce had been alone!
Honor flushed hot and cold with sudden emotion which she could hardlyunderstand because it was so new to her: passionate resentment towardsJoyce Meredith for the impropriety of receiving a visit from CaptainDalton at that late hour. Her position as a married woman did not coversuch indiscretion. How would Ray Meredith feel if he heard that hisadored wife was entertaining the doctor at midnight, and alone? Itsounded abominable, even if innocent in intention.
It was not right! it was _not_ right!...
At the same moment, pride rose in arms to crush her resentment. Whatbusiness was it of hers what Joyce Meredith did, or Captain Dalton,either? They were not answerable to her for their conduct--ormisconduct....
Captain Dalton might please himself as far as she was concerned. He washardly a friend. Why should she be so deeply affected by his acts? Yether heart was wrung with pain at the mere thought that he had spent therest of the evening entertaining Joyce Meredith who was as beautiful andas foolish as a little child. Any man might be excused for losing hishead when treated to her innocent familiarities.
They were innocent. Of that she was sure, for Joyce coquetted witheither sex impartially and unconsciously.
All through her silent brooding Tommy talked incessantly. He had passedfrom the subject of the doctor and Joyce Meredith to Bobby Smart who hadobtained a transfer to a distant station on the railway, and wasrejoiced that he would soon see the last of Mrs. Fox with whom he was"fed up."
"I don't admire him for talking about her, or you for listening," saidHonor, paying scant attention to the subject of Bobby Smart.
"I didn't. I had to shut him up rather rudely; but Bobby isthick-skinned and, like some fellows one meets, a dangerous gossip, andthe last man a woman should trust."
"I wonder much why women are so blind. They are fools to care for, ortrust men," Honor said gloomily, and looking depressed.
"You must never say things like that to me," Tommy blurted out,offended. "You must discriminate between those who are honest and thosewho are the other thing. You might trust me with your life--andmore----"
"I dare say all you men say that!"
"And all don't mean it as I do. _I_ am discriminating; consequently,there is only one girl in the world for me...." He choked unable toproceed, and looked the rest into her clear eyes.
"Don't, Tommy!--this is why I hesitate to come out with you," she said,looking annoyed.
"I can't help caring for you," he answered defiantly. "It's anunalterable fact, and you may as well face it. I have cared ever sinceschool-days. It has been my one hope that you too would care--in thesame way."
"And I have tried to show you in a hundred ways that it is of no use,"she said kindly. "Can't you be content to be--just pals?"
"No. So long as you remain unmarried I shall keep on hoping."
"And I cannot do more than tell you it is of no earthly use." Sheavoided looking at him again for the knowledge that his face betrayedthe depth of his disappointment. "Perhaps it would be better if we gaveup riding and tennis together, and you tried to take up some otherinterest?" she suggested.
But Tommy laughed unboyishly with a cracked sound in his throat. "Iwon't say anything more about it, if it annoys you, Honey, but don't forGod's sake give me the push. I'm coming to the Club just the same fortennis with you, and shall call to take you out riding when I may--likethis. You need not worry about what I have said. I dare say I'll getalong--somehow ... so long as you are not keen on someone else," headded. It seemed he would never be able to stand that!
"I am not keen on--any one else," she said, lifting her head with aresolute air. "But I do want you to know that I am not the marryingsort. I love the idea of being an old maid and having crowds offriends--and perhaps a special pal--that's you, if you like, old boy,"she added graciously holding out her hand which he gripped with energy."So that's all right, eh?"
While he made the expected reply, which was naturally insincere,considering the state of his sore heart, both observed a cloud of dustmoving rapidly towards them which quickly resolved itself into a ridergalloping at full speed.
When he was nearer his pace slackened from exhaustion, and Honorrecognized one of the pastors of the Mission, an Eurasian, his face paleand stricken and dripping with sweat.
A chill of foreboding struck at her heart as she asked for news of thesick girl, Elsie Meek.
"She is dead," came the blunt reply. "I am now on my way to the doctorwho should have seen her last night, but he never came." He rode onwithout waiting to hear Tommy exclaim, "Good God!" and Honor give aninarticulate cry of surprise and sorrow.
"I thought she was going on all right," said Tommy gravely.
"I had no idea she was so bad!" said Honor. Both had pulled up uncertainwhat to do. "Poor, poor Mrs. Meek!" said Honor, thinking of the lonelywoman who struggled to live her life happily in surroundings which hadfailed to prove congenial, and whose one compensation was thecompanionship of her daughter,--the one being in the world she loved andlived for. She thought of the unsympathetic husband whose Christianitysavoured of narrow prejudices and exacting codes, and she pitied thebereaved mother from the bottom of her heart. "I feel so guilty to thinkthat we had the doctor to dinner last night when he might have spentthat time at Sombari!" Honor cried regretfully.
"That was for him to judge. At any rate, he need not have finished theevening at the Bara Koti singing love-songs to Mrs. Meredith."
"Poor little Elsie!" Honor sighed, ignoring the allusion to Joyce. Shewas guiltless of blame as she did not know. "Tommy, you had betterreturn and tell Mother. I am going straight on. There is now more reasonfor my calling on Mrs. Meek."
"It will be a painful visit--can't you postpone it?"
"I would rather not. I feel someone should be with her. Mother will golater, I know; but I must go at once."
Very reluctantly, Tommy turned his horse's head homeward, and liftinghis _topi_ in acknowledgment of her parting gesture, rode swiftly awayleaving her to continue her road to the Mission.
The settlement came into view beyond a straggling village which hadgiven the Mission its name, and was composed of bungal
ows grouped abouta wide "compound": chiefly schoolhouses of lath and plaster, withinnumerable sheds and outhouses for dormitories and technicalinstruction. As Honor approached, she was conscious of a great stillnessbroken only by the sound of intermittent blows of a hammer. When shepassed into the grounds through a gate in a neatly kept fence of splitbamboos, she saw through the open window of a shed, a carpenter busilyengaged on the grim task of preparing a coffin out of a dealpacking-case. In India burial follows on the heels of death with almostindecent haste, and the sight of a rude coffin in the making, sent nothrill of horror through the young girl. It was something to be expectedin a place where no professional assistance of that sort could bereckoned upon in circumstances as sudden as these. Instead, a greatsadness came over her, and tears filled her eyes to overflowing, for itwas not so very long ago that Elsie Meek, a young girl like herself hadcome out to India full of life and laughter, yearning to give herenergies scope, and trying for the sake of her gentle mother, to appearcontented with the meagre life afforded by her surroundings. Honorsuffered a pang of regret that she had not spared more time from her ownpleasures to help Elsie to a little happiness. She had so appreciatedvisits from the Brights, and had been so keenly interested in the doingsof the Station people, with whom she was rarely allowed to associate.
What a futile life! Poor little Elsie Meek!
At the Mission bungalow where Honor dismounted, a group of missionarieswere sombrely discussing in whispers the necessary details connectedwith the funeral. Mr. Meek sat apart, bowed with depression, his facelined and haggard with grief. This was the man's world--SombariSettlement--the child of his creation; yet how hollow were his interestsand ambitions today!
Many years ago he had been financed by zealous Methodists and sent outto India to establish a mission in rural Bengal. After careful search hehad chosen Sombari on the outskirts of Muktiarbad for the field of hislabours. By degrees, his untiring efforts had prospered and Sombari wasnow a large community of pastors and converts, and he, himself, anHonorary Magistrate of second-class powers, in recognition of hisinfluence among the people. Mr. Meek had a reputation for converting theheathen with a Bible in one hand and a cane in the other, and hismethods were justified by the results seen in the confidence he inspiredin his followers. He was a strong man, popularly credited with beingjust, if unmerciful, and was respected by the natives for miles aroundas hard men are, in the East; and they rarely appealed against hisjudgments.
The same spirit had ruled Mr. Meek's domestic life and had reduced hiswife and daughter to the position of appendages of the Mission. It wasnothing to him that they professed no vocation for the life; thediscipline was wholesome for unregenerate human nature which is prone tocrave for what is worldly and unprofitable. He was responsible for thesouls in his care; and he conceived it his duty to protect themaccording to _his_ lights--not _theirs_. Having safeguarded them fromthe snares and temptations of Station life which represented the World,the Flesh, and the Devil, he was filled with righteous satisfactionconcerning their safety hereafter, and ceased to trouble himself withtheir yearnings in the present.
Mrs. Meek, who had once been a governess in a private family, was of amild, easy-going nature, incapable of resisting tyranny. Since hermarriage, her naturally submissive mind had become an echo of herhusband's, although she was not always in agreement with his opinions;yet it was the line of least resistance, and "anything for a peacefullife" was her motto. Her greatest comfort had come with the birth of herdaughter, who, later, was reared by her maternal relatives in England.They had means, while the Meeks had barely enough for their own needs,so Elsie had received a good education of which her relatives had bornethe cost, and at the finish, came out to her home at Sombari under theprotection of missionary friends travelling to India.
Though Mrs. Meek had not seen her daughter for the best years of herchildhood, her love for her had become the absorbing passion of herlife. For years she had carried about a heart aching with longing forthis treasure of her own flesh and blood, so that their reunion alteredher whole life. So long as she had her child's companionship andaffection, she was blessed among women; even the little world of Sombariwas glorified.
But, alas! on that morning of Honor Bright's visit, death had robbedMrs. Meek of all that life held for her. Honor understood how completelyshe was bereft, and her own heart overflowed with sympathy. Her one ewelamb had been taken, and in her grief, the foundations of the mother'sfaith were shaken.
She turned her face to the wall and cried out against her Maker. "Fromhim that hath not shall be taken away even that which he hath!" was theburden of her sorrowful cry.
"What had I to make life worth the living! My child was all in all tome, and she has been snatched from me! Of what use is religion sinceeven my prayers could not avail? It is comfortless. God is cruel. Hetramples on our hearts. He has no pity." Such were the outbursts of thepoor, stricken heart.
She was the picture of abandonment in the comfortless room, ascetic inits lack of dainty feminine accessories. The floor was covered withcoarse bamboo matting such as the Brights used in their pantry andbathrooms. Cretonne _pardars_[11] hung in the doorways; the furniturewas rough and country-made; the bed-linen and coverings were from themills of Cawnpur. "Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth," hadbeen Mr. Meek's justification for confining his expenditure to thebarest necessaries of life. But, on the other hand, he indulged himselfin his hobby for raising prize cattle for the local _Melas_[12]. Prizecattle had their use and did not come under the head of extravagance asdid furnishing according to taste and fancy; so Mrs. Meek and herdaughter had to suffer the lack of the refinements of life to themortification of their spirits and the discomfort of their bodies, inorder that their souls might be purged of the vanities and lusts of theflesh.
[Footnote 11: Curtains.]
[Footnote 12: Fairs.]
"You must not fight against the decrees of the Almighty," said the nursereproachfully, as Honor knelt beside the bed and embraced the unhappymother.
"Don't talk all that clap-trap to one in torment," said the girlcontemptuously. "People are too ready to put all the blame on God whenthey are bereaved."
If a thunderbolt had fallen in the room it could not have had a morestartling effect than this outburst of Honor's. The nurse recoiled inhorror thinking she was in the presence of a free-thinker who is firstcousin to an atheist, and Mrs. Meek choked back her sobs to starewide-eyed at her visitor who had dared to voice such heresy under amissionary's roof.
"Isn't it God's will when one is afflicted? That is what we are taught,"said the nurse indignantly.
"We are taught a lot of stuff which is not true," said Honor firmly. "Itisn't sense to impute to a loving God acts of wanton cruelty, and wedishonour Him by so doing." She kissed Mrs. Meek's cheek and spoketenderly to her of her sympathy and sorrow.
"But, Miss Bright, are not life and death in God's hands?" the bereavedlady asked astonished.
"Indeed, yes--with our co-operation. God needs our help as we need His.I could never believe that our dear ones are taken from us by God'swill. He could not will us unhappiness. We have got to suffer as theresult of ignorance and neglect, and a thousand other reasons which areCause and Effect. Where we fail God, we must suffer."
"How did we fail God? We did all we could!"
"Yes--we always shut the stable door after the steed is stolen. God didnot give your child the germ of enteric which constitutionally she wasunfitted to cope with. It happened through some misfortune that God hadnothing to do with, and, simply, she hadn't enough fight in her. Thereare times when we cannot understand why some things should be,especially if we feel that by stretching out His arm God can save us;yet He does not do so," continued Honor. "I prefer to believe that Godfights for the life of our dear one along with us, and we both fail, weand God, because of some lack on our side that has hindered." Honor wasnot accustomed to holding forth on the subject of her views and wouldhave said no more, but Mrs. Meek was roused to a new in
terest andpersisted in drawing from her all she felt regarding the matter.
"If you put your foot on a cobra and you are bitten, and no immediateremedies are at hand, you will certainly die. If you prayed your hardestto be saved and did nothing, you would certainly be disappointed. Godhas given us the means of saving life--science and medicine are His wayof helping us through doctors--even then we fail if the patient has nostrength to battle with disease. That is how I feel," she added loyally."We don't blame those we love--so don't blame God unjustly."
"Doctor Dalton said Elsie's heart was weak," moaned Mrs. Meek. "Perhapshad he come last night he would have noticed the change in her and donesomething to have helped her to live! Oh! Miss Bright, I feel it isowing to the doctor's neglect that I have lost my child. Why didn't hecome last night?"
Honor's eyes fell before the anguish in hers. "He was at dinner with us,and left us early intending to come on here. I don't know why he changedhis mind," she murmured, feeling again the rush of wild resentmentagainst Joyce Meredith for her beauty and allurement.
"How strangely you talk!" Mrs. Meek went on as Honor relapsed intosilence. "I never heard any one speak or think like this."
"I have always felt that nothing harsh or bad can come from God," saidHonor gravely. "He does not treat us cruelly just to make us turn toHim. It would have the opposite effect, I should imagine, and He knowsthat as he knows us. It is presumptuous of me to say anything at all,but it seems to me, we are responsible for much of our own sorrows, orit is the way of life since the Fall. Humanity has foiled the designs ofGod from the time of Adam, and has had to bear the consequences. But,always, God's goodness and mercy triumph, and we are helped through theheaviest of tribulation till our sorrows are healed. Pity and Love arefrom God, never agony and bereavement!"
"Yet my husband says that the _cross is from God_, a 'burden imposed forthe hardness of our hearts'!"
"So that to punish you, God is supposed to have caused an innocent oneall that suffering, and has snatched her from the simple joys of herlife! Is that your husband's conception of a loving God? If I believedthat, I would become a heathen, preferably."
"It doesn't seem to fit in with such attributes as Mercy and Love!"cried Mrs. Meek, relapsing again into a flood of grief; for, after all,there was poor consolation for her in any theory since nothing couldrestore to her her beloved child.
"Tell me," said Honor to the nurse who had led her to the adjoining roomto take her last look at her dead friend, "wasn't her death rathersudden and unexpected?"
"The doctor should have been here last night," said the nurse lookingscared and uncomfortable. "She was so wild and restless and keptexciting herself in her delirium. Her heart was bad and nothing seemedto have effect. He should have been here, and not left her to me for somany hours, since early morning!"
"When did the change set in?--could no one have gone for the doctor?"
"It is a great misfortune that there was no one capable of relievingme," said the nurse looking distressed. "There was only the ayah, andshe was supposed to be watching, yet allowed the patient to sit up inbed in her delirium when to lift an arm had been forbidden. All shecould do was to cry aloud and remonstrate, which woke me and before Icould do anything, the poor girl was--gone! Simply fell back dead. Itwas terrible! I fear I shall get into trouble, but the Meeks could notafford more than one nurse and Mrs. Meek and I were both worn out. Iknew the ayah would blame me, as I blame her; but, humanly speaking, itwould have happened in any case--even had her mother been in the room.It was truly most unfortunate. If the doctor had only been here he mighthave seen the necessity for a sedative or something!"
It was the same cry: "If the doctor had only been here!" From all shecould gather, Elsie had passed a restless night and had died of heartfailure in the morning. An overtaxed heart had given out by the exertionof suddenly rising in bed.
Honor doubted if Captain Dalton could have done anything by visiting hispatient at night, yet his not having done so would always leave areproach against him. She felt it and, yet, strangely enough, wanted tocombat every argument that would have held him to blame.
When she was leaving the bungalow she came face to face with CaptainDalton descending from his car; and so moved was she for the moment,that she would not trust herself to do more than bow stiffly as shepassed, her face white in its repression, her eyes cold and distant. Atsight of him her agony returned in force; her heart for a moment stoodstill. Why had he lied to them about visiting Sombari when it was JoyceMeredith he had meant to see? Joyce with her lovely face and winning,childish ways? Everyone must love Joyce because of her ingenuousness andextraordinary beauty. The doctor had nursed her in camp under intimateconditions ... and he had stolen a visit to her when duty had requiredhim in an opposite direction.
How was it possible to feel the same friendliness towards him with thatwild resentment raging at her heart? So Honor ran out to her pony,sprang nimbly into the saddle, and rode rapidly away, feeling hissearching eyes upon her till she was out of sight.