CHAPTER IV
A POINT OF VIEW
Dalton filled the ice-bag he had brought with him and settled down tonursing with the skill of a woman; and no hands could have been gentler.Occasionally the worried husband would pay the tent a flying visit andreturn to listen to a pleader's lengthy oration with all the attentionhe could muster under the troublous circumstances. Visions of his wife'sflushed face lying still on the pillow with closed eyes would haunt himwith agonising fidelity to detail--especially in relation to theattentive doctor hovering near, adjusting the bag or removing it to berefilled, and administering the necessary doses of medicine. He tookspecial notice of Dalton in his new character of nurse, and had no faultto find with his manner. He was as silent as the Sphinx and asprofessional as a nursing sister, and though Meredith thought itobjectionable that his wife should always have to be treated in illnessby a male physician--there being no lady doctor within hundreds ofmiles--he was obliged to take comfort in the fact that his beloved couldnot be in better hands.
Elsewhere, the ayah crooned lullabies to the baby who no longer neededstrict watching. She fed it from the bottle and wondered,philosophically, who would be the next to be taken ill; for experiencetold her that it was a mild form of epidemic chill, familiar to all atthe changing of the seasons.
Meals went forward with clock-like regularity, whether the sahibs wereinclined for sustenance or not. The camp table in the dining-tent waslaid with silver and crockery; a tight bunch of green leaves adorned acentre vase, and a gong rang at the appointed hour, while the dishesremained warm in the portable "hot case" where an open charcoal fireburned redly.
"Isn't the fever rather persistent?" Meredith asked at dinner whiletoying with his food.
"It's early to judge," said the doctor.
"What do you think of it?"
"Unquestionably a touch of the 'flu.'"
"It isn't enteric?" the anxious husband asked fearfully. "I have a holyhorror of enteric."
"You make your mind easy, it is not going to be anything of the sort. Iam afraid, however, you will have to give up all idea of Mrs. Meredith'scamping for the present," he added definitely. "She and the child don'ttake kindly to canvas, and at this time of year we must avoid exposureto malarial conditions."
"The District is particularly free from malaria," said Meredith.
"Bengal is full of it; the many bogs and pools of stagnant water aroundare responsible for the anopheles mosquito."
"It's dashed inconvenient when I must put in a deuced lot of camping inthe cold weather."
"Do most of it after Christmas," Dalton suggested.
"It will be just the same--they won't be able to stand it."
"Frankly, I don't think they will. Perhaps, both might be moreacclimatised later on," was the diplomatic reply.
Meredith passed another night on the cane chair which he placedalongside of his wife's bed, and was conscious during periods of restthat the doctor never slept at all. He was in and out of the tent at allhours of the night looking after his patient with untiring zeal. An easychair in the dining-tent had served as his couch, and the Englishnewspapers entertained him during the long hours of the night.
Yet at the end of the vigil, Meredith knew Captain Dalton no better thanbefore. He was still the silent, repellent being, with eyes of athought-reader and a baffling smile which might have meant contempt ortolerance; he was altogether incomprehensible.
By morning, Joyce was free of fever with a temporarily lowered vitality,and showing no ill effects. All day she convalesced happily, enjoyingthe petting she received from the men; Captain Dalton's methods beingunobtrusive, but effective; Meredith's, on the other hand, beingtactlessly affectionate and blundering.
"You are a darling, Ray," she laughed, after a specially clumsy service,"but you were never born with a faculty for nursing, like CaptainDalton's. He is so capable; he never spills my mixture down my neckbefore I can drink it; nor does he pour out over-doses, and empty thesurplus on the drugget!"
"'Comparisons are odorous,'" he returned, looking hurt.
"The tent is, if you like. It smells like a chemist's shop! Your properplace and function are in the court, and sentencing criminals topunishment."
"You want to get rid of me so that you may have the doctor all toyourself! I wonder what you find in him at all. He fairly chokes oneoff."
"I told you he was either an automaton or an angel; I find he is both,only he would like us to think him a bad angel."
"A man knows himself best. So you want to desert me tomorrow?" he criedreproachfully.
"Dear old thing!--you wouldn't have me stay if you knew that I should bemiserable?" she coaxed, drawing down his face to be kissed.
"Miserable with the husband who adores you?"
"If you love me so much, you should be unselfish and think more ofBaby."
"Must Baby always count above his Daddy?"
"Naturally he must be considered more, while he is so young anddelicate."
"Where then do I come in?"
"You mustn't be jealous of your own child!" she cried reproachfully."Think of his helplessness, his need of me!--Of course you need me,too," she said putting her palm over his mouth to stifle his eloquenceon the subject of a husband's rights, "but then, there's a difference.You can manage without me, while he must not. A babe is a sacred trustto its mother."
"And when he grows older and is impressionable, there will be a mother's_moral duty towards his soul_ to separate us. You and he at home, and Iout here, alone! I know the jargon, having watched such comedies foryears. Now it has come home to me. One hears that a child is a blessingfrom God.... I believe it is a blessing very much in disguise, for I seeonly the disguise at present."
"Why look so far ahead?" laughed Joyce, determined to mend his humour."By the time he is old enough to become a 'moral' responsibility, youwill probably be only too glad to get rid of me. I am such a worry as awife."
"I wonder!" he ejaculated ruefully.
Joyce reminded him of the many week-ends he could spend at the bungalow,when they would contrive to have very happy times. "I shan't be soanxious with a doctor on the spot, so to speak; and shall be ever somuch more of a wife," she promised, looking adorable in the ribbons andlaces of her snowy night-dress, backed with befrilled pillows.
The prospect had compensations, he felt, but he found it hard to explainwithout incurring the imputation of selfishness, that, parted day afterday from the light of her presence, deprived of the sight of herloveliness and the natural expression of his passion for her, he wouldassuredly ache unceasingly and pine himself sick. She would notunderstand, since she had little comprehension of the ways of mankind,so he could only sigh and capitulate.
"At least there will be many honeymoons!" he allowed, trying to hide hisdisappointment in satire.
"What a man you are!" she laughed. "Won't you ever get used to beingmarried?"
Meredith returned to his files and the clamouring multitude under thetrees, for the remainder of the afternoon, with the noxious odours ofbare-bodied humanity, besmeared with mustard oil, assaulting hisnostrils. Meanwhile Joyce cultivated the doctor with innocent feelers offriendship while he administered afternoon tea.
"I do think you are such a clever nurse," she said flatteringly, whilehe fed her on bread and butter. "You are like two persons in one--bothdoctor and nurse!"
"Necessity is a good teacher," he returned shortly. "I have never nursedany one myself; others have generally taken my orders."
"I should have imagined that you had done this all your life."
Viewed in broad daylight at close quarters, when her brain was clearedof feverish delusions, he was not at all a handsome man. Tooblunt-featured and heavy in the jaws; too square in the frame and thickof neck; but his eyes, with their power of reserve, were always asplendid mystery; deep-set and provoking, yet suggestive of nothing somuch as banked fires, glowing and suppressed. Frequently they dwelt onher with the same satirical amusement of the polo-field, and she
wouldwaste much of her thoughts in wondering why. It was the look of asceptic who had no intention of expressing his unbelief, and Joyce wasirritated and annoyed. But she had no fault to find with his attentions,and was invariably won to gratitude for services rendered.
She was very pretty--exceptionally so--and very simple; but, as prettywomen were never simple, Dalton found entertainment in the study of herparticular pose, as it seemed to him. If it were not a pose, then herhusband was a short-sighted fool and he had no patience with him. Thetime was past for childish innocence and folly. Coquetry was verycaptivating, but to play with fire was dangerous, and if he mistook not,she would some day arrive at an understanding of human nature when itwas too late to save her self-respect. Her beauty appealed to hisartistic sense, but he had no admiration for shallow natures; hence hisamused contempt.
"You remind me of nothing so much as an oyster," she laughed, picking upa dainty piece of bread and butter and putting it in her mouth.
"Why so?"
"You are living so much in your shell. Why do you do it?"
"Why not, if it pleases me?" he asked pouring out two cups of tea.
"Think of all you lose!"
"I generally manage to take what I want," he replied with an insolentsmile. "I rarely suffer from loss."
"You lose love," said she wisely.
"What do you know about it?" he questioned, fixing her with hispenetrating eyes.
"I love my husband----"
"--And your baby, even more. Of course your experience is immense!"
"You are sarcastic," she said reproachfully. "I love my husband and mybaby in quite different ways. You have no wife or baby, so you cannotunderstand. Men like you go through life without knowing any of its realjoys."
"That is according to your point of view," he retorted. "In any case,marriage is a great gamble and it's best to avoid risks."
"There's a girl you and I know..." Joyce put in reminiscently, seeing inmind a pleasing vision, "and the man who gets her will be the luckiestfellow in the world."
"He certainly will."
"How do you know whom I mean?"
"You mean Miss Bright of Muktiarbad."
Joyce opened wide her blue eyes which were the colour of forget-me-nots,and stared. "Are you a thought-reader?"
"It was easy reading, for there is only one girl we mutually know whofits your description entirely, and she is Miss Honor Bright. She hasbeen reared to live up to her name."
"And you found that out though you hardly ever speak to her?"
"It is rather wonderful, isn't it?" he asked with his crooked smile.
"Then--why--?" There were limits to curiosity, but her expressive eyesspoke the rest of her question direct to his.
"Why don't I cultivate Miss Bright? The answer is simple. I am notseeking a wife, and I have no interest in friendships."
"How rude!" she cried reproachfully.
Dalton laughed disagreeably and offered her more tea which she accepted,not knowing whether he was not after all the most churlish being she hadever met.
"I wish I could understand you, Doctor, but I never shall," she sighedhopelessly, as she endeavoured to make herself comfortable among thetumbled bed-clothes. "I give you up as a difficult riddle."
"You want your bed re-made," he returned changing the subject. "Shall Ido it for you?"
"You?--I can't fancy your bed-making!"
"I'll show you that I can do that as well as most other things. Butyou'll have to move out."
The cane lounge had been put out of the way and was not within easywalking distance for a shaky invalid; nevertheless Joyce was determinedto try. While he transferred the cushions, she rolled herself in a shawland made a brave effort to walk across, only to be overcome bygiddiness.
Dalton was in time to save her from falling and she was carried clingingin her panic to the column of his neck. "You shouldn't have attemptedit," he scolded.
"But I liked the way you swung me off my feet!" she said contentedly.
"It is not one of my duties to wait hand and foot on my patients, Iwould have you understand," he said grimly with a lurking twinkle in hiseye, wondering, the while, whether the giddiness was another pose. "Itseems you like being fussed over," he remarked before laying her downamong the cushions.
"I love it!" she cooed ingenuously. "It's the only reason I don't mindbeing sick, to have Ray fuss and carry me about."
He put her down immediately with the familiar expression of indulgentsatire in his eyes. "You'll probably get plenty of fussing fromeveryone; but, in the case of the boys, remember to be merciful."
"What on earth do you mean?"
"There are some young fools who might, if encouraged, lose their heads,you know."
"But there'd be no excuse, for I never flirt."
"Pardon me, you flirt like an artist."
Joyce thought it was horrid of him to say so, and wondered if she shouldsnub him for his impertinence; only she did not quite know how. He hadbeen so kind--perhaps he was only teasing? However she was reduced tooffended silence while he made her bed with skill and expedition. He wasnot anxious that her husband arrive and find him so employed, and wasglad to restore Mrs. Meredith to her nest of pillows withoutinterruptions from without. Her utter lack of concern, either way, wasilluminating, so that he had to revise his estimate of her once again,while his smile lost its satire.
"Sure you are comfy?" he asked before leaving her.
"Yes, thank you," she answered stiffly.
"Haughtiness does not become you, dear lady. What have I done?" he askedcoolly.
"You said I was a flirt!" she pouted.
"I'll take it back," he returned smiling broadly, thinking that shecertainly flirted delightfully. But shallow natures always flirted justso.
"I have never been accused of that--in my life."
"It would be such a libel!" he conceded.
"Thank you," she said graciously as she shot him a forgiving glance bothradiant and alluring. "Do you know, I like you tremendously, though Ibegan by thinking you hateful."
"First impressions are often correct," he returned grimly, and retired.
By and by, when she was alone with her husband and childishly about torecount the events of the afternoon with fidelity as to detail, she wasdiverted by his grave distress at the coming parting. It was cruel toinflict grief, and she wished he would be more reasonable.
"Old thing!" she said affectionately, rubbing her soft cheek against hisrough one; "think how much I, too, shall miss you! It won't be only onyour side!"
"Will you really miss me?" he asked infatuatedly.
"All the time. I love having you about, and if I am lonely at nights, Ihave only to creep into your bed in the next room to be comforted. Whatever shall I do when that bed lies empty?"
It was heavenly to Meredith to hear this intimate revelation from herlips, always so shy of expressing her need of him. It was a greatadvance in the right direction, and his skies cleared as by magic. Ifabsence truly made the heart grow fonder, he would have no cause ofcomplaint against this short parting. It was the greater one in thespring, the shadow of which was already darkening his horizon, that hedared not contemplate.
However, there was plenty of time yet, and no earthly good was to begained by crossing bridges in anticipation.
The following day saw an exodus from the camp. Meredith took his wifeand child to Muktiarbad station, and saw them comfortably established inthe Collector's bungalow, known as the Bara Koti,[8] then returned tohis duties in the rural parts of his District, resolved to support hisdeprivations with cheerful resignation.
[Footnote 8: Big House.]