CHAPTER XIV
THE INDISCRETION
Joyce had started out on her motor ride with the doctor as happy as achild on a holiday. Her baby was well and there was no cause foranxiety; in fact, all the world seemed smiling and kind. At last she waslearning that a short absence from home made no difference to an infantin the care of so capable a nurse as her Madrassi ayah, trained in theway of infants by the remarkable "Barnes-Memsahib."
All things considered, there seemed no earthly reason why she should notbe happy with the light-heartedness of youth helped by a kind friend topass the time agreeably while she remained in India. In the spring----
But she would not look ahead. Why borrow trouble? When the hot, Marchwinds began to blow, Ray himself would recognise the necessity ofsending the little one home. No father could be so selfish as to allowhis own son and heir to fade away under his own eyes, and neglect theonly chance of saving his little life. As to the hills!--the innumerableinfantile diseases incurred in the hills owing to the dampness of theclimate made life a constant terror. No! It would have to be Home inMarch. Passages were usually booked long beforehand but people oftendropped out at the last, and a passage for a "lady and infant" couldeasily be found at the eleventh hour.
Meanwhile, this was December, and she was capable of enjoying herselfamazingly in circumstances that were innocent and harmless.
With a friend like Captain Dalton at her service, so to speak, and Honorto love her almost as a sister would, she was very lucky and couldafford to be as happy as the season would permit.
Station gossip whispered that Dalton would not have spared so much ofhis precious time unless he were receiving some return by way ofcompensation; which was a logical deduction in estimating a masculinenature not governed by religious scruples; but with this Joyce washardly concerned, having little comprehension of all that gossipsimplied. She was delighted to requite so much self-sacrifice on thedoctor's part with all the geniality she could command.
As a matter of fact, Captain Dalton was finding a cynical amusement inthe study of this--to him--new type of feminine creature: a marriedwoman with the mind of a child, unawakened as yet to the deeperemotions, in whom the instincts of sex were still asleep. He was quitesure that, like most pretty women, she was vain and easily led, and, ifit were not himself, it would be some other fellow who would undertakeher awakening, since her husband was trustingly content to leave hermental development to chance and nature.
Having passed the stage of desperate infatuation for mere physicalbeauty, he could play at his leisure with the idea of encompassing herruin, as he sat beside her in his car, watching the dimples come and go.Life had done him a bad turn at the beginning of his career, and he wasenvious of men who had escaped suffering such as he had known. Out ofsheer devilry he would like to pull Meredith's house about his ears andteach him that no woman of extraordinary physical attractions was a safeasset as a wife. Sooner or later, vanity would be her undoing and shewould join the ranks of the fast and free. His experience was fairlywide and his faith, _nil_. Already Joyce Meredith coquetteddelightfully. In a little while she would be doing it dangerously; byand by, audaciously, and so on, till she developed into the accomplishedflirt, the sport of men in the East. He had watched the evolution tillhe had arrived at the theory that, with time and opportunity, thegenerality of women could be brought to capitulate.
This afternoon they had set out with the intention of visiting theruins, taking with them a rug and a tea basket for a _tete-a-tete_picnic. At first Dalton had thought of leaving the car on the high roadand walking the rest of the way, but on second thoughts he decided torisk the tires and springs over the bumpy ground, forcing a passagethrough the obstacles in the way. Remembering the nature of the jungle,he came prepared with the necessary implements for hacking a passagethrough, so that he was enabled to take the car much farther than he hadat first thought possible. After they had partaken of refreshment underthe drooping boughs of a great banyan tree, with a screen of bamboos onthe west sheltering them from the afternoon sun, they proceeded on footto the ruins, he carrying the rug in case she should need to rest.
"How fairy-like and lovely it all is!" cried Joyce clinging to his armand picking her way among the dead leaves. The speckled sunlight dancingthrough the leaves, the spreading branches overhead, the gracefulfoliage of the tropical vegetation, the beautiful birds, made the spotpeculiarly fascinating. "It gives one such a sense of isolation," sheadded.
"We are completely isolated," he returned. "Hardly a soul comes thisway. Some months ago when I wandered down here, a native who waschopping wood said the place was haunted, for which reason the peoplegive it a wide berth."
"Haunted!" exclaimed Joyce fearfully, as she crept closer to his side.
"The natives are terribly superstitious and easily scared. The devil issaid to be in possession of the palace, and ill-luck or disaster toovertake any who enter it. Are you nervous?"
"Not if you are not. You see, I have such immense faith in you," shesaid with charming flattery.
"Then we'll brave the fellow together." He hacked at the creepers andtore them aside, and having cleared a path, drew her towards the gloomywalls visible through gaps in the foliage. It was a friendly little handthat nestled confidingly in his. "These wild convolvuli grow with suchamazing rapidity, that in a month of rainy weather the whole path isblocked. If you were put to sleep in the ruin by a wave of the devil'swand, the creepers would make a wall and shut you in, like the princessin the fairy tale. How would you like to sleep here for a hundred yearswalled in by creepers as high as the tree-tops?"
"And be awakened by a splendid prince?" she laughed, entering into thespirit of his raillery.
"I can picture him tearing his way through with the instinct to kissyou, so as to learn the true meaning of Life! You don't need enchantmentto turn you into the Sleeping Beauty; you are that now. It would beinteresting to see what would happen were the Prince to arrive."
"He arrived when I met Ray," she said colouring richly.
"You think he did, but that was in your dreams. You are not awake yet,so your experience has yet to come." He avoided her eyes while he spokeand left her puzzled to follow his thought.
"I cannot understand you. Why should you say I am asleep?"
"Because it is written in your eyes."
"Then I am a somnambulist?" she laughed.
"Yes. A dangerous one," and they laughed together.
"Who is going to wake me?" she coquetted with a pretty drooping of herlashes.
Dalton stole a look at her pouting lips, thinking he would defer thereply to her question for a while. She put him in mind of a childconsciously playing with fire, yet expecting to escape unscorched. Ofcourse, she would have to learn her mistake. She knew perfectly thatnine out of ten men would be on fire with passion for her under suchintimate circumstances, and reveal the fact without loss of time; shewas not quite so sound asleep as not to be aware of her own beauty andits spell, yet she dared to experiment on men and rouse their emotions.Let her, then, take the consequences!
Soon, Joyce found herself in front of the ruined palace, standing onhigher ground, its dome and minarets visible for miles in a setting ofdense foliage and drooping palms. It had been built in the sixteenthcentury for heathen worship, and subsequently converted by a Mohammedangrandee into a residence for his own accommodation and that of hisharem. To Joyce it looked an irregular mass of ruined masonry, rooflessin parts and overgrown with jungle. The portion which had been reservedto the women formed a separate wing which at one time had been enclosedby a high wall, but which was now reduced to mounds of fallen brick-workand shattered concrete. "The place looks almost as though it hadsuffered bombardment," she said, "how desolate and weird!"
"I could tell you a romance connected with that wing which savours ofthe _Arabian Nights_," said Dalton. "Want to hear it?"
"How do you know so much more about it than any one else?" she asked,accompanying him gingerly over the fallen masonry t
o gain a better viewof the harem. All around them the undergrowth was dense and matted;date-palms reared themselves from thickets and mingled their droopingbranches with tamarind trees, the prickly _babul_, and the wild_jamun_[16].
[Footnote 16: Indian blackberry.]
"I make it my business to know all about every place I live in," hereturned.
"Tell me the romance," she commanded.
Dalton spread the rug on a grassy mound, and when they had seatedthemselves, he began his tale in true Oriental fashion, with a charm ofstyle that captured her fancy.
"Once upon a time, when the land belonged to those who could hold it bythe sword, a rich Nawab built himself a costly residence out of aheathen temple. Behold the residence!"--with a wave of his hand. "Andwith him dwelt his retinue and his sycophants, his child-wife, and thewomen who contributed to her needs and his pleasures.
"Alas, for masculine confidence! In a moment of weakness, this greatprince took into his service a young warrior of Rajputana as the chiefof his bodyguard--a Hindu by religion and of exclusive caste--because ofhis great strength and the beauty of his youth and person. This one,tradition tells, conceived a burning passion for the favourite wife ofhis master, having seen her face by chance, unveiled, at the bars thatprotected her window;--a girl of extreme loveliness, and as slender as awand, whom custom prevented from disclosing her features to the eyes ofmen who were not her near relatives. She had therefore been closelyguarded within the harem walls in company with other women of her lord'sestablishment, and left to find entertainment for herself in thepriceless jewels that adorned her person.
"Every day the Rajput, by name Ramjitsu Singh, would pass and repassbelow the high wall that enclosed the women's quarters, hoping again tosee, by favour of the gods, this beauteous vision whose wondrous charmswere the talk of the bazaars; their fame having been spread by herfemale attendants. Small was she, they said, with eyes like a gazelle's,and lips of the redness of ripe berries. Her hands and her feet were thehands and feet of a babe, so slender were they, and soft; and the hairof her head could have robed her.
"One day, the Rajput's patience was rewarded by a sight of the beautifulface which made his senses swim as in a sea of delight. She stood again,unveiled, at the bars of her window, and gazed down at him with greatsadness and yearning. Like a bird in its cage she looked upon the freeworld with longing, and sighed. The foolish one!--The faithless one!"
"How can you call her foolish and faithless?" Joyce interruptedindignantly.
"That is how the Indian story-teller speaks of her."
"It was only natural. Think of her youth and the conditions to which shewas obliged to conform!"
"Well, see what happened. Are you interested?"
"I am thrilled. Go on!"
"Thereafter, the Rajput neither ate nor slept till he had devised a planfor carrying her away; for what are laws to lovers? or bolts and bars?Neither caste nor creed can hold a man back whose soul is on fire for awoman." He paused to allow his words to take effect.
"How very romantic!" laughed Joyce, unmoved. "It is like a poem, asunreal as it is picturesque!"
"Don't you believe a man's soul can be aflame with love and desire for awoman?" he asked, picking up a stone idly and flinging it after adisturbing crow.
"Books tell one so, but how am I to know?"
"It must have been proved to you times without number!--but I said youwere asleep!" he remarked with his inscrutable smile. "Know, then, thatmen have cheerfully risked hell for a woman's favours. They have brokenevery law for the transcendent bliss of lovers' kisses!--Anyhow, that'snot the story.
"To proceed: Poor old Ramjitsu was ready to dare or die for his Love, asmany another man has been since the world began, and will continue to bewhile the world lasts. Every night, when darkness covered the land, andthe people within and without the palace slept, Ramjitsu Singh wouldclimb the wall by means of a stout bamboo, and clinging to the sill,would wait for the gods to grant him the opportunity to plead his love.
"At last, one night, attracted by the silvery radiance of the moon, shecame to the grating to gaze without, and hearing a quivering sigh, sheturned and beheld her gallant lover. He looked like a god himself in thebright moonlight, and the words of his mouth, uttered with breathlesspassion, held her spellbound. With her flower-face pressed to the barsshe received his caresses."
"Oh, poor little thing!" cried Joyce, her breath hurried with sympathy."Did she love him, too?"
"She must have, in that moment, for nature at such times speaks loudlyto youth. Listening to his impassioned vows, she, who was of a differentreligion, as apart from his as the East is from the West, was willing toplace her destiny in his hands. Human nature, you will see, is strongerthan caste or creed, and tradition is brought to naught by romance andpassion.
"One night, when all seemingly slept, Ramjitsu, who had from time totime cautiously loosened the iron bars in their sockets, removed themaltogether and received in his arms the form he coveted. Conceive thatthrilling moment of ecstasy! Suddenly, however, a lightning stroke froma sword descended upon the faithless one from within, and she was slainin her lover's arms. The weight of her falling body, thus violentlyflung forward, unbalanced the Rajput whose foothold at the best wasprecarious, and together they were hurled to the paved court below,Ramjitsu breaking his neck in the fall.
"So ended the love story of the Palace--a tragedy which has remained aneverlasting tribute to love, and serves as an example to the Indians ofa just vengeance on the unfaithful. The spies of the Nawab had betrayedthe young wife and her lover, and the husband had punished them bothwith death."
"Just vengeance!" repeated Joyce scornfully. "A brutal murder, I callit."
"The Mohammedans speak of it with pride."
Joyce brushed away the tears and laughed hysterically. "It is a horriblytragic tale and I wish you had not told me of it, for the memory of itwill haunt me."
"Why do you mind?"
"I can't help feeling for that poor little prisoner who wanted to beloved and was killed! They had probably married her off as a littlechild to the Nawab whom she afterwards learned to hate."
"You wish she had escaped with the Rajput? That would have violatedevery law of their religion and tradition." He watched her keenly.
She looked distressed. "Why are laws so hard and fast? These poor women!Can they never choose for themselves who they will marry?"
"Never. Among Eastern races marriages are always arranged. So you don'tcondemn the Rajput for wanting to steal her?"
"Oh, no. How could he help it?"
"Or her for wanting to run away with him?"
"Not for _wanting_ to run away. But laws have to be kept, I suppose, orno homes would be safe. Individuals have to be sacrificed tocommunities," she said thoughtfully. "Show me where it all happened."
He rose, and taking her by the hand, helped her to her feet, after whichthey passed together through a gap in the wall which led to a room onthe ground floor from where a winding, brick stairway took them to theapartments above. Each step had to be carefully negotiated because ofthe mortar crumbling under foot, and the loosened bricks that threatenedan accident. Presently, they were in a narrow corridor into which slitsor loop-holes admitted the daylight. An arch at the far end from whichthe door had long since vanished, introduced them to a series ofchambers, one leading into another. The walls were black with cobwebsand the dust of ages, while the concrete flooring was strewn with the_debris_ of fallen plaster. Heavy cracks in the roof let in shafts ofthe fading daylight, and roots of weeds and pipal trees had penetratedand hung below. On the whole it was anything but a desirable spot inwhich to linger, but Joyce's desire to view the interior of the romanticchamber had to be satisfied.
"This is supposed to be the room, and that the window. You can see theholes in which the iron bars must at one time have been embedded. Thestory goes on to tell of great calamities befalling the fortunes of theNawab; of battles fought in the neighbourhood between Hindus andMohammedans, an
d the immediate withdrawal of the Moslems to another partof Bengal. Now let us get out. I am not at all sure the place is safe."
"Let me first take a souvenir!" she pleaded. An enamelled brick abovethe arch had attracted her eye. Its design and colouring were stillfresh and clear despite the ages that had passed since it was fashioned."Look at it!" she coaxed. "Isn't it wonderful? You would think it hadcome straight out of a jeweller's shop. How did they learn such work inthose far-off days?"
"Italian workmen were known to have been imported by wealthy princes forthe decoration of their temples and homes."
"Can't I have it?"
"Quite out of reach," he answered, stretching an arm upward.
"But I might try to punch it out with your knife, if you put me on yourshoulder."
Dalton was sure that no effort of hers would dislodge the brick;moreover, he was doubtful of the wisdom of the experiment, consideringits position in the arch; but the blue eyes lifted to his wereundeniably bewitching, and the suggested method of the operation, toomuch of a temptation to be resisted. He would let her try till sheadmitted failure: the impulse to grant her the moon if she demanded itwas strong at the moment, so he gave her his knife and without mucheffort hoisted her to his shoulder and allowed her to dig at will intothe arch. Her delicate fingers would soon tire of forcing the brick fromits solid bed. He, therefore, held her securely and closed his eyes notto be blinded by the fine dust that showered over them both.
"Look out!" he warned her once, when the sound of falling mortar washeavier than he had anticipated. "Don't bring the place about our ears."
"I don't want to be buried alive!" she replied. "It isn't as difficultas I imagined. See, it is already loosening."
But he could not look up out of regard for his sight. For a moment hehad no actual concern with the work she was engaged upon, having allowedhimself to suffer distraction. With his arms about her, his face at herwaist, he was assailed with the temptation to bring matters between themto a crisis. He was done with philandering and desired to end her follyand his patience. What was easier than to draw her down to his breastthat he might cover her tempting lips with kisses? Though he was not inlove with Joyce after the manner of Ramjitsu, her mouth was alluringlysweet, and her possible response to his passion would reward his daring.There was the novelty, too, of acting the Prince Charming to her role ofSleeping Beauty; for her woman's nature was asleep and waiting only tobe startled into comprehension. All the afternoon he had played with theidea till his desire for possession had mastered prudence. What righthad she to imagine him a bloodless being, as passionless as a stone? Hewas a man, and a very human one at that. He would prove that to herwithout delay. What a fool he had been to have wasted so much time! Hewould kiss her till he infected her with his passion; which would not bedifficult if she were like those of her sex who traded on a husband'strust and confidence!
The glamour of the moment intoxicated his senses: contact with herperson, the perfume of her, her complete helplessness in that retiredspot, assisted to turn him temporarily insane.
Just as desire was about to master reason and self-restraint, a shriekof terror from Joyce paralysed his nerves and suspended thought.
The arch, already heavily cracked and depending solely for stabilityupon structural pressure, being further weakened by the dislodgment ofthat particular brick, showed signs of collapsing.
On looking upward, Dalton saw their danger and had time only to springbackward to a far corner of the room before the arch subsided, bringingwith it a portion of the roof. He stood stock still with Joyce clingingto his neck, watching the building crashing about him. The shock andvibration of the fall had brought about the collapse of precarious partsof the ruined edifice, till, roar followed roar, and the air was thickwith dust.
Dalton momentarily expected the shaking floor to give way beneath theirfeet, or the roof to descend upon them and bury them alive. It wassomething to remember all his life: his impotence to help himself or hiscompanion in the midst of the calamity, while believing himself face toface with the horror of a slow death by entombment.
After a while, when all was still and the dust began to settle, thespectacle disclosed to view beggared description.
Tons of material lay between them and the stairs up which they had come;the window was buried behind a dense mass of fallen bricks and mortar; agreat hole torn in the roof showed the sky overcast with clouds.Possibly there would shortly be rain to add to their misfortune.
How was it possible to extricate themselves from their terriblepredicament? Dalton cast his eyes about him towards an inner chamber,only to see that the roof there had also collapsed barricading the onlyother outlet.
In the midst of his anxieties he had to soothe the girl's fears. Joycewas shivering with terror and nearly speechless.
"Pull yourself together," he said shortly. "It is a devilishcatastrophe, but we must face it. Just as well we are not killed!" Heendeavoured to unclasp her clinging arms, but she only clung the closer.
"Oh, I am so frightened!--don't leave me!" she whimpered.
"I am not going to leave you," he said reassuringly, "but I must take agood look around." Releasing the rug from beneath a weight of _debris_,he induced her to sit down while he made a careful survey of theconditions of their prison, for that it undoubtedly was. They were ascompletely shut out from the outer world and as helpless as prisoners ina dungeon. Both rooms were isolated from the rest of the building; bothwere partially roofless and without means of exit.
Gad!--what a commotion there would be in the Station when it wasdiscovered that they had not returned! Dalton wished with all his heartthat he had left his car on the high road and not brought it into thewood. Who would think of looking for it there?
He was partly comforted by the thought of the wheel-marks left in thedust, but this source of hope was cut off when the rain began to descendlater in the night.
In the meantime he had to make the best of the situation and not allowMrs. Meredith to fret.
"You have to thank a special Providence interested in your fate that youare not buried alive," he told her cheerfully.
"And so have you," she said solemnly.
"Providence doesn't usually bother much about me; relations have longbeen strained. Possibly I have been preserved for your sake," helaughed.
"How can you talk in that irreverent way!" she said reproachfully.
"Sorry, if it offends you."
But Joyce fell to weeping. Was it possible that they would ever befound?--they would die of starvation--and what about her baby?
Dalton had much ado to allay all her fears. When it was discovered thatthey were missing, did she suppose that a stone would be left unturnedto trace them? She was to cheer up and show how brave she could be.
"I am not like Honor Bright," she sobbed. "I cannot face such a horribleprospect as a night spent in this ghastly place all among snakes andcreeping things!"
The mention of Honor seemed to silence the doctor completely. For sometime he was moody and depressed; Joyce was allowed to weep into herhands till exhausted.
Only when it was getting dismally dark did he arouse himself from hisabstraction and take up again the task of cheering her.
"Can't we dig ourselves out?" Joyce asked before the darkness descendedwholly upon them.
"Without implements of any sort?" Even the knife was lost in theconfusion, and in any case it would have been utterly useless.
"Do you think they are sure to find us?"
"I am confident of it--in the morning. It will be too late and dark forthem to think of looking here tonight, but in the morning someone issure to find the car and discover our whereabouts."
"How hungry we shall be!" she sighed, and Dalton laughed.
"How thirsty we shall be, is more to the point!--Poor child!" taking herhand in his and recalling how near he had been to madness. He was nottoo far from it even now with her hand resting confidingly in his, andthe consciousness of their unique position.
/> "Anyhow, there is the sky and fresh air, and at least we are not quitealone. I have you!" she said with dangerous flattery.
"Yes. You have me," he returned eagerly. "And I--have--_you_!"
"What about snakes?" she asked, casting her eyes about her fearfully.
"They are more upset than we. At any rate, I don't believe we'll betroubled by snakes tonight. You will have to forget we are lost, so tospeak, and talk till you are tired, and then try to sleep."
"Sleep--here?"
"On the rug."
"I couldn't. It is so uncomfortable!"
In the growing darkness, he was again mastered by the evil thoughtswhich had possessed him in the moments preceding the catastrophe. Theirisolation produced a host of ungoverned impulses. As the eveningadvanced his manner changed, growing suggestive of possession; hismanner became more tender.
"You will always remember tonight!--there will never be another like itin your life," he whispered, leaning towards her and stealing her hand."You have been horribly frightened, haven't you?"
"I am more hopeful now, thinking of the morning," she returned, her softbreath on his cheek. "It is only the snakes I fear!"
Dalton drew her into his arms. "I shan't let you think of snakes, youpretty little thing! At last I have you close. You have tantalised mewith your loveliness every day, till Fate has given you to me!" his lipsfound hers and pressed them roughly. "Wake up, sleeping Princess! see,this night is ours. Let me love you as I want to. Let me teach you howto love!"
Joyce seemed paralysed in his arms. She lay as still as death under hiskisses as though mesmerised and dreaming. Emboldened by her silenceDalton continued to caress her with increasing ardour, till Joyce,coming suddenly to her senses, was seized with panic and horror.
"Who are you?" she cried in a frenzy of fear, struggling to escape. Itseemed she was entrapped by some human monster in the doctor's likeness,against whom she was powerless to struggle.
"Why do you ask? You know me well--don't be foolish! Won't you let melove you?"
"Love me?--like this?--Do you forget I am married?" she gasped, stillstruggling to escape. "Let me go. I hate you for daring to touch me--tokiss me. I hate you! How dare you do it!" Joyce had never known suchterrifying moments, even worse than when the building seemed fallingabout her ears. The horrors of the night were multiplying athousandfold, now that the doctor had failed her and gone mad.
Dalton made several efforts to pacify her, thinking he had only to dealwith a phase of childishness, but found her unmistakably determined tobreak away from him.
"Stop it, and listen to me," he said angrily. "You want it all your ownway, but it is my turn now. Why did you lead me on and tempt me, if youmeant to back out in the end? I could have kissed you twenty times, butrefrained for reasons you would not understand. Now when those reasonsare finally swept aside and I am ready to be your lover, you pretend tobe surprised."
"Surprised! I am horrified! I thought so well of you--I believed youwould respect me, not treat me as you might--Mrs. Fox for instance! Letme go, you coward and bully!--I have trusted you and treated you as abrother--for this?--you unspeakable cad!"
Dalton released her instantly, and she burst into tears, crying asthough her heart would break. "Honor warned me, but I would not listen!"he heard her say amid her sobs.
"What did Honor warn you about?" he asked sternly.
"She said," Joyce sobbed, "to go 'easy with my favours'--that you were'a man--like most----'"
"Did Honor say that? and why?"
"Because--she thought I was being foolish to--to becomeso--friendly--with you--when I am a married woman. She was right! I havebeen a fool!" A fresh outburst of weeping.
"Did she say that because of her contempt for me, or because you are awife?" he pressed.
"I--don't know. All I know is that she was right and I should havelistened to her warning; now I shall never, never respect myself again."
"I see no reason why you shouldn't," said Dalton, a sense of humourovercoming his wrath. "You've done nothing but tell me in politelanguage to go to the devil."
"You kissed me!"
"What of it? Many women in your position are kissed, and they are in nowise cast down," he laughed sardonically.
"I feel degraded--I feel unfit to kiss my own, dear little baby again!"
"You should have thought of all that when you were so anxious to charmme," he returned cruelly.
"You are a beast, and the most hateful man I know!" She made an attemptin the gloom to crawl away to some distance from him and his rug, but heordered her to stay where she was, adding,
"I shan't trouble you again. You have nothing to fear from me."
"I don't want to share the same rug!--I wish I was a mile away!"
"The rug has done you no harm. If you prefer it, I'll shift off it. Thebest thing you can do is to go to sleep."
"I couldn't with this sin on my conscience."
"What sin?" he asked repressing his impatience with difficulty.
"This sin against my husband."
"You have committed none. If my kissing you was a sin, mine is theconscience to be troubled; but it was slain quite a long time ago," headded with a short laugh.
"I am not joking," she said angrily. "How do you suppose I can face myhusband knowing that I have behaved so as to make another man kiss me?"What a child she seemed!
There was no doubting her distress, and Dalton exhausted every argumentin his attempt to understand her attitude of mind. "What do you want meto do?" he asked finally. "If an apology is of any use, I apologisehumbly for behaving as I did. I grant you, I am a perfect specimen of acad. If it will do you any good, tell your husband all about it when youget back, and send him round to give me a horse-whipping. I promise Ishall not injure a hair of his head."
"He is much more likely to shoot you."
"Even so. He is perfectly welcome to. I am not in love with my life.Only let him do it by stealth so that they don't hang him afterwards."
Joyce cried again hopelessly, till Dalton felt himself a sort ofcriminal.
"Please don't! I cannot tell you how sorry I am to have upset you so. Ihad no idea you would take it like this. There are so many womenwho----"
"Like Mrs. Fox?" she interrupted scornfully.
"Perhaps. I don't know much of Mrs. Fox. She doesn't appeal to me."
"You couldn't offer me a worse insult than to think that I might be likeher!"
"I am sorry. Forgive me, will you?"
"I cannot forgive myself for my blindness and folly!"
Joyce spoke as though she were shivering, and Dalton was stricken withconcern. "You are cold?" he asked anxiously.
Her teeth chattered. In December the nights in Bengal are often bitter,and Joyce had left her driving cloak in the car. Dalton immediatelydivested himself of his coat and made her wear it. His manner havingreturned to the professional, she was no longer afraid of him, so obeyedmeekly.
"Now the rug," said he. And she was wrapped to her ears in the rug,after which he left her to herself for the night. Both listened to thepatter of the rain as it fell on the _debris_ around them, and,eventually overcome with fatigue, Joyce dropped off to sleep.