CHAPTER XXVIII
THE ATONEMENT
When Honor's letter of warning was received by Mrs. Dalton, she wasgreatly disturbed in mind at the apparent gravity of its purport.
On being awakened, she had carried the letter to the table, raised thelight, and read all that Honor had to say, after which she feltundecided how to act. The lateness of the hour made it certain that herhusband was sound asleep after his fatiguing day, and to rouse him forthe purpose of passing on a caution which he had previously disregarded,would be, she thought, both inconsiderate and tactless. Besides, no goodcould be gained by disturbing him, as no action could possibly be takenat the moment, even presuming that he were disposed to move in thematter. It seemed, therefore, wisest to allow the letter to stand overtill the morning. Attempts had been made on his life, but Mrs. Daltonhad understood that the enmity and ill feeling in the District hadpractically died down. Yet, here it was shown to be smoulderingdangerously and an imminent menace to her husband, sleeping or waking.
Though she was not passionately fond of him, and was unlikely ever tobe,--having grown weary of strenuous emotions and the disappointments oflife,--she valued the legal tie that bound them together as her sheetanchor in a life of vicissitudes. The unwonted ease she enjoyed inDalton's home made it a haven of rest after her many storms. Under theshelter of his protection, she looked forward to regaining, at least,her good name and standing, if not the place she had rightly forfeitedin his esteem. She had a glimmer of hope that the future held somepromise through Honor's intervention on her behalf.
Honor had done an inconceivable thing. In Mrs. Dalton's view it wasincomprehensible. Her reverence for the Divine Law had caused her torenounce the man she loved, and to plead with him for the woman who hadlost all moral claim to his regard or consideration. She was wonderful!and Mrs. Dalton was filled with admiration and respect.
At dinner that evening she had gleaned the first-fruits of Honor'ssacrifice, for he had been less taciturn, and had even responded to hiswife's efforts to engage him in ordinary conversation. Instead ofsitting in silence throughout the meal, or exchanging banal remarksabout the food or the weather, they had discussed the war and all thatIndia was going to do to prove her loyalty to the Crown. He had spokenof the advance in science and surgery, bound to result from the lessonsof the war; and had told her of his wishes and intentions regardingherself should he be suddenly called upon to start for Europe. Thegenerosity and consideration shown in his arrangement for her, hadtouched her deeply, and she had been only too willing to express herconcurrence. It was the first time she had known the sensation of agenuine and impersonal interest in an intellectual man's conversation;and she was happier than she had been for many a day. She lay downagain, but sleep would not come to her eyes, and her thoughts were busywith the subject of Honor's letter. She reasoned with herself to nopurpose, for the stillness of the night bred new fears and intensifiedthe lurking danger.
What should she do? waken her husband?--or wait till the morning?
Would it not be best to watch over him silently while he slept? It mightmove him to gratitude when he should learn of the sacrifice of hernight's rest!
The weather was warm and muggy in spite of the _punkha_ waving in theroom, pulled by the uncertain hand of a coolie half-asleep in theverandah. There was another waving in like manner, she knew, in herhusband's room at the extreme end of the bungalow; and in bothapartments were windows thrown wide open to the night air--as wascustomary in the plains--with short curtains of lawn to screen theinterior from public view. Outside, the shrill chirping of cricketsvibrated in the air, and the occasional croak of a bull-frog from a pondin the garden, could be heard. Otherwise, the silence of the night wasoppressive and ominous.
Open windows not far from the ground offered an easy opportunity forentrance into the house of evil characters bent on mischief, and eventhe drowsy _punkha_ coolie in the verandah would be none the wiser.
The thought was disquieting and banished sleep from her eyes.
Impelled almost against her inclinations by an inward force too urgentto resist, Mrs. Dalton slipped on her kimona, and with her feet inslippers, went forth to satisfy herself, personally, that all was wellwith her husband. He did not desire her interest; he had no wish thatshe should sacrifice her rest, nevertheless, a sense of undefinedapprehension made it impossible for her return to her bed and sleep.
On her way to his bedchamber through the rooms that intervened, shecould hear the squeak of the ungreased _punkha_ wheel as the rope passedto and fro over it. It was proof positive that he was asleep, or hecould not have tolerated the noise for a moment. Suddenly, however, itceased, and Mrs. Dalton, comprehending the reason of its stoppage,smiled to herself, appreciating the frailty of the _punkha wallah_.
Arriving on the spot with the intention of stirring up the slumberingcoolie, she was surprised to find that he had deserted his post afterthe manner of new hands unaccustomed to the task. This one, sheremembered, had been engaged that very day. The rope hung idly againstthe wall under the wheel, and Mrs. Dalton was in momentary expectationof a curse from within as the mosquitoes settled on the sleeper.
The culprit being nowhere in sight, she applied her eye to the edge ofthe curtain and looked towards the bed. Her husband lay, as sheexpected, fast asleep, tired out thoroughly, and unconscious ofexternals. Suddenly, as she peered at him, she became aware of a darkform moving between her vision and the sleeper.
Paralysed with fear and incapable of uttering a sound, she saw thefigure of an Indian clothed only in a narrow loin-cloth, creepingstealthily towards the bed.
Who was he? and what was he trying to do?
Mrs. Dalton was rooted to the spot and dumb with terror.
Something gleamed in his hand--a steel blade had caught the reflectionof the lowered flame of a lamp hanging on the wall. The man's purposewas plain, for thieves do not usually carry knives. He was there tocommit murder. Oh, God!
What was she to do?--She was powerless to move. Fear made her a coward,a helpless, nerveless creature. Like one in a horrible dream, her tonguerefused to utter a warning, or her constricted throat to produce asound.
And there was not a moment to lose as the figure was stealthily nearingthe sleeper. Thoughts flashed through her brain with lightning rapidity.If the man were not stopped, somehow, and at any cost, in another momentshe would see Honor's fears justified and Brian killed while asleep inhis bed. How was it possible for her to witness such a deed and notraise a finger to save him?
But she was defenceless!
The man raised his right arm, and the sight of the knife fully exposed,gave the impetus needed to galvanise Mrs. Dalton's nerves into suddenand fierce activity. Without a thought for her own danger, she spranginto the room and flung herself upon the Indian, clasping him round thewaist and holding him back as in a vice.
"Brian!" she shrieked in strangled tones, finding her voice at last."Brian! Help! Murder!"
A fierce struggle ensued. The native tried to free himself in vain; herarms tightened about him as he flung himself from side to side, and didnot loose their hold even when he struck at her with his knife over hisshoulder, once, twice, thrice, burying the blade deep every time.
Only one idea obsessed Mrs. Dalton, and that was to hold on till theassassin could be secured. He should not escape to remain a menace toher husband's life!
Her cries aroused Dalton from his profound sleep. He had long been inthe habit of placing a loaded revolver under his pillow at night forself-protection from possible attempts on his life, and instantlyrealising the situation, leaped out of bed, and fired point blank at theIndian's head as the knife descended once more on his poor doomed wife.
As the man dropped dead, Mrs. Dalton fell into her husband's arms, anunforgettable sight.
Dalton carried her to his bed and laid her in it, a dying woman, whilethe terror-stricken servants crowded into the room. He gave them hisorders and they sped in various directions--one to inform the police,another t
o rouse Mr. Bright. Someone took the car for the assistantsurgeon, while others brought in more lamps and fetched and carried allthat was necessary for the work of First Aid.
With her life ebbing fast, Mrs. Dalton made a pitiful attempt to explainthe reason of her presence on her husband's side of the house, afraidthat he would misunderstand her motive; and he was filled with sorrowand self-reproach. "I came to see that you were safe--I only wanted towatch over you, for I had been warned that you were in danger. MissBright wrote--her letter is on my table, read it."
"I understand," he said with the utmost gentleness, "and I cannot findwords to tell you how I honour your wonderful courage and sacrifice."
"It was the only thing to do. I could not call out--I had no voice! Iwas so dreadfully afraid!"
"Afraid for me!--and not for yourself!"
"I had no time to think of that."
"It was heroism! You did a thing which, in battle, would have won youthe Victoria Cross!"
"Thank God I was able!" she panted.
"I do not deserve it. Will you forgive me?" he asked brokenly.
"It is I who have to ask that!"
"The past is all wiped out today, so far as I am concerned. God blessyou!"
"Ah, thank you for that!--May God forgive me for the mistakes and thefolly--the wrong-doing! It is too late now to retrieve them! Ah, thosewords, 'too late'!--on how many graves?... the words, 'too late'!...Yet--Honor would say it is never too late while there is breath in whichto call on--the name of the Lord."
"God is very merciful to all sinners who repent," said Dalton. "I, too,am a sinner. I have been a Pharisee and hypocrite all my life; may I,too, be forgiven!"
"Perhaps this will be taken into the account--my atonement," she sighedfeebly.
"You have done what few women in your place would have had the courageto do. I shall remember it all the days of my life with gratitude andremorse."
For a while they were silent as he did all he could to ease hersuffering.
"This is death!" she whispered, searching for his face with glazingeyes. "Tell Honor--I wish her the happiness she deserves.... You willlove her as you could never have loved me. It is for the best...!"
Dalton stooped low and kissed her on the forehead and as he straightenedhimself he saw that she was dead.
* * * * *
When Honor arrived in the verandah and heard the story of the tragedy,her heart bounded with a very human relief at the thought that a mostprecious life had been spared. For a moment she had room for no otherthought in her mind. "Thank God, Brian is safe!" she cried to her soul.
Afterwards she could afford to dwell on the miracle of Mrs. Dalton'ssacrifice. Who would have thought her capable of such an act of heroism?Truly, one never knows how much of good there is in human nature,howsoever perverted! Poor Mrs. Dalton! She had, indeed, atoned. She hadgiven her all--her very life for the man she had wronged, and whosepride she had lowered in the dust. It was a magnificent act, the memoryof which would wipe out every wrong she had done, and silence everytongue that spoke ill of her.
"Is she still living?" Honor asked one of the servants, fearfully.
"She died but a moment ago," said the _bearer_, "for the Sahib hasretired into another room and all is silent."
Elsewhere, too, all was still. In the presence of death, voices werehushed, as the servants hung about waiting for the coming of those whohad been called.
"It is a terrible sight," Honor heard one say to another; "the body ofthat _punkha_ coolie lying just where he fell. Some _domes_[22] must befetched to remove him."
[Footnote 22: Low-caste Hindus.]
"The Sahib says, let no one lay a hand on him till the police arrive;such is the custom when an inquiry has to beheld."
Seeing that her presence was unnecessary, Honor passed out into thedarkness and ran swiftly home.
* * * * *
It was discovered later, at the inquest, that the discharge of a_punkha_ coolie had given Dalton's watchful enemies the opportunity theyhad been seeking to carry out their plan of revenge; and that the manwho had been engaged to fill the vacant post was a marked character,living in the village of Panipara, who was well known to the police.Doubtless he had been heavily bribed for the perpetration of theintended crime which had so strangely miscarried. The instigatorspointed to their own complicity by disappearing from the District, andthe vain search for them occupied Mr. Bright and his staff for manymonths. As well might one look for a needle in a stack of hay, as expectto find fugitive criminals among the numerous villages of Bengal.
* * * * *
Captain Dalton left for Europe soon after his wife's funeral, hisservices having been placed at the disposal of the War Office, and Honortreasured in her memory his brief words spoken in farewell as he heldher hands in his. "We have both a great deal to do while the War lasts.Will you follow me, and let us work together?" In the moment of parting,it was not possible to keep out of his eyes all his lips could not say,and Honor promised.