Banked Fires

  CHAPTER VII

  AN ANXIOUS EXPERIENCE

  "Have you ever wondered what it must feel like to have sentence of deathpassed on you?" said Honor Bright thoughtfully leaning her chin on herhand, her elbow on a low table before her.

  "It must be too awful for description," murmured Joyce, large-eyed andsympathetic.

  "I shall always understand and feel for any one under sentence of deatheither by the Courts of Justice or from disease. When I felt the sharpprick on my ankle and looking down saw the snake glide into theundergrowth I believed it was all up with me. I had seen two or threenatives who came up to the house for treatment die before my eyes. A_saice_ bitten in the stables by a cobra died in twenty minutes. A_mali_ cutting grass was struck on the hand and died in three quartersof an hour. A _punkha_ coolie on the verandah lost his life within anhour after being bitten by a karait.

  "I could not tell the character of the snake that had bitten me, but itwas large and long, and many cobras are dark and lengthy creatures. Myfather shot one with No. 8, in the roots of a banyan tree this veryyear, and it measured over four feet."

  "But, Honey, dear, why ever were you walking in jungly places?" Joycecried, wrought up to the verge of hysteria.

  "I was out after snipe. You know how I enjoy shooting, and I generallygo alone, for I am not clever enough yet with my gun to be trusted toshoot in company with others. One is so afraid of accidents!

  "I had been walking along the 'aisles' of the paddy fields till I cameto a swampy bit and found I'd have to walk through it if I had any hopeof starting a bird. Just as I was stepping off the 'aisle,' a snakepassed over my foot, and biting me on the ankle vanished in the swamp.It must have been some sort of a water-snake, but I did not know. All Iknew was that I had been bitten by a snake that might be poisonous. Itcould easily have been an adder, or a karait--even a cobra--though I hadnot a minute in which to observe a hood or any distinctive marks. Iimmediately collected my faculties to think what was the best thing todo. I knew I had no time to lose. Mother was away in town shopping forthe cold-weather needs, Dad was out for the day on a riot case. I didnot even know if I should find Captain Dalton at home.

  "On the instant, I tied a ligature as tight as I could under the knee,and then started to run back to the Station as fast as my breath wouldallow. As I reached the main road I heard the sound of a motor, and, tomy intense relief and thankfulness, it was the doctor on his waysomewhere--I never asked where--my case was as desperate as any, and Iput up my hand. He saw the 'S.O.S.' message in my face, which heafterwards said was the hue of chalk, and when he found out what waswrong, he just bundled me in and drove home like a streak of lightning.I wonder we did not kill someone or something in the bazaar. I shallremember to my dying day the way the people fell to right and leftthinking, no doubt, the doctor was mad.

  "When we arrived at his bungalow he sprang out, ordering me to find myway to his consulting room while he went straight to his medicine chestfor the remedies he keeps for cases of snake-bite. By that time my legwas feeling as heavy as lead--whether from the ligature or the poison, Ido not know--but I could hardly put my foot to the ground. Still, Ihobbled in and sat down to wait. It seemed ages, but was in reality onlya minute or two, when he came and knelt down before me to deal with thewound. There was very little to be seen, just the punctures and a lividdisk round them. Up till then we had scarcely spoken a word, or I haveno memory of words having passed between us, but I can see his face, allset and stern, his mouth compressed, his eyes like living coals in hishead intent on his work of rescue.

  "I hardly felt all he did; I was so deeply excited inwardly. Outwardly Iwas as calm as a stoic. I felt whatever happened I would have to keep myhead to the last. I fully expected to feel desperately ill, and almostimagined the sensation beginning to creep over me, of numbness andchill. I had watched the symptoms in others, and could almost trace themarriving in me. Oh, Joyce, I wouldn't go through that time again if yougave me a fortune!--yet, I don't know--for one thing, I shall always beglad."

  "And that?" asked Joyce.

  "Oh, nothing--just an idea," she said hastily. "Captain Dalton cut deepinto the flesh of my ankle and cauterised the wound; after that heinjected something above my heart. I believe he was not satisfied withmy pulse, for he brought me a stiff brandy-peg to drink. My hands werestone cold; he chafed them in his. In the meantime my leg swelled andlooked all colours. It was most alarming yet he would not let me thinkof it. He, who is usually so silent, talked all the time of a thousandthings that had nothing to do with snakes and their deadliness. He evenmade a joke or two. Once he wanted to know if I wanted any one--a ladyto sit by me and cheer me up. But when I couldn't have Mother, and youwere away, I wanted no one else, and told him so. I think he was rathersurprised that I wasn't hysterical or troublesome; that I bore all thatcutting about without uttering a sound. Every now and then he felt mypulse, and as time passed his face took on a wonderful look. You wouldhardly have believed he was the same man. The hardness was all meltedand broken up, his eyes were so kind--he talked so pleasantly.

  "After some time I asked if he thought I was well enough to go home, buthe preferred to keep me longer. He thought I would have to be watchedfor a bit and looked after. Later he explained that he was afraid ofshock. I had been through such an anxious time. He carried me to hisdrawing-room, and while I rested on the sofa he diverted me with music.He played the most exquisite music, and sang me ever so many songs.Really, Joyce, nobody knows Captain Dalton. He has most extraordinarydepths in his nature of which I have had only a fleeting glimpse."

  "Why is he so antagonistic to people as a rule?" Joyce wondered aloud.

  "He has had some great disappointment in his life. Someone has smashedup all his ideals and beliefs, or he would never be so suspicious andunfriendly. He is that; for who knows him a bit better today than fivemonths ago when he first came among us?"

  "_You_ do, certainly, Honey!"

  "Not even I. I have been favoured with only a glimpse of his inner self.There are stores of wonderful goodness all hidden away underneath thenastiness and ill-humour he shows to the world!"

  "Do go on and tell me the rest," urged Joyce, excitedly. "What a fearfulexperience!"

  "It was. I thought of Mother and her grief were I to die,--of myfather's desolation. They are both so wrapped up in me, having no otherchild, you know. I pictured myself lying dead and covered withflowers--you have no idea how involuntary was all this thinking!"

  "And you never cried or lost your head?"

  "I had not the slightest leaning that way. All I wanted was to die'decently and in order,'" Honor returned, smiling reminiscently. "I didnot want to make a scene and upset Captain Dalton's nerves. Once, whilefeeling faint and sick, I gave him messages. I wanted him to tell Motherthat I did not mind dying, a bit. That was not strictly true, for I lovelife as much as any one else, but I thought it would comfort her. I senther my love and said that if I had to die, I was sure it was best forme, because everything happens for the best. 'Do you really believethat?' he asked. 'I am not quite sure I do,' said I, 'but I must thinkof everything that will cheer Mother and help her to be reconciled if Ihave to go.'"

  "How long were you obliged to be in suspense?"

  "Time passed so fast that I had been there four hours before he judgedit was safe to bring me home. He drove me in his car and carried me tomy bed where the ayah took over charge. He then went about his otherduties. He was so kind and wonderful to me...." The colour rushed intoHonor's face at a memory that would not be suppressed. "Just before heleft, he came and stood beside me, looking so queer...."

  "How?" Joyce asked curiously. The only expression familiar to her on thedoctor's face was quizzical amusement.

  "He has rather wonderful eyes," Honor said reminiscently, "and theyseemed suddenly soft and misty. 'You are quite a heroine, Miss Honor,'he said. 'I shall think of you often when I am alone in my diggings, asthe bravest girl I know;' and without any warning he took my hand andkissed it, eve
r so reverently, almost as though it were the hand of aqueen, and was gone."

  "Didn't he come again?"

  "Many times to see how the wound was doing. The swelling had to befomented--he had shown me how--the ayah was quite a brick about learningthe way. Father was there too, and Mother had returned. Poor Mother weptenough for two, and Father drank a stiff whisky-and-soda to steady hisnerves. Altogether it was a ghastly experience. I wonder what particularkind of snake it was!"

  "It was evidently poisonous, and the bite would have killed you if thedoctor had not found you in time," said Joyce.

  "I have no doubt of it." Honor became suddenly aware of the lateness ofthe hour and rose to go. "I shall have to dress for dinner, and there'sonly a quarter of an hour to do it in!--Dear me, how I have talked!"

  "One minute--this happened only the other day, and yet you hadassociated with the doctor for five months before you were properly onspeaking terms?" said Joyce, detaining her.

  "We used to see each other in the distance occasionally. He never cameto the Club and showed no inclination for feminine society, so we neverspoke more than to say 'Good-evening' once in the way!"

  "Yet he said quite a nice thing about you to me in camp."

  "Did he?--What did he say?" Honor asked, flushing.

  Joyce related the conversation faithfully, even to the doctor'sconcluding remark--"I am not seeking a wife, and have no interest infriendships."

  Honor winced as under a lash, and straightened herself.

  "You should not have pressed the point, Joyce. However, what does itmatter? I am glad he thinks well of me, and that's all there is to it.He and I are of the same mind. I, too, am not seeking a husband, for Iam very happy as I am. Good-bye, dear, I was commissioned with a messagefor you, but I have talked so much that it has been nearly forgotten.Mother wants you to dine tomorrow; just a few friends and CaptainDalton; and he has actually accepted the invitation."

  "It is never safe to ask me to dinner," said Joyce doubtfully. "I hateleaving Baby all alone at night."

  "He has a good ayah."

  "Oh, yes. She is absolutely trustworthy; but should he ail ever soslightly I shall stay at home. I could not go out and leave him theleast bit out of sorts."

  "We shouldn't wish it. However, he might be quite all right, and thenyou'll come--bye-bye!" she waved her hand from the steps, mounted herbicycle, and was gone.

  So the dinner-party at the Brights' was a settled engagement and Joyceprepared to keep it. She had never been anywhere without her husband,and felt nervous and shy for the lack of his support. Moreover, her mindwas haunted by nameless fears for the child who was to be left behind tothe tender mercies of native servants. A thousand possibilities of evilpresented themselves to her mind and robbed the outing of prospectiveenjoyment; consequently the next night when it came to the point ofstarting, she was full of regrets for her weakness in having consentedto go. "Ayah," she said in a fit of childish confidence, "I care fornothing on earth so much as my darling baby, how can I leave him for anhour or two not knowing what is happening to him in the meantime?"

  "My Lort! what-for be frightened? Baba plenty well, sleeping sound. Whatcan be?" the woman cried irritably. Could she not be trusted?

  Nothing could possibly happen in so short a time. How did other mothersfulfil their social engagements? Surely they did not all worrythemselves and others to death over nothing? Joyce therefore resolved tobecome more normal in her habits, and proceeded to dress.

  Hardly, however, had she put foot in the hired victoria, when the ayahappeared, suggesting another look at the child. He had been coughing inhis sleep, and considering the mother's anxieties she feared theresponsibility of keeping the fact to herself.

  Joyce immediately sprang from the carriage and hurried to the bedroomwhere the child lay sleeping in its cot. "You are sure he coughed?" sheasked listening in vain for a repetition of the sound.

  "Would I say it for nothing?" the Madrasi asked testily.

  "What would it mean?"

  "A little cold he has caught, or indigestion."

  "Then I cannot go out with any peace of mind," Joyce cried definitely."What if he should have croup?"

  "Why say such words? Give little honey, and cough go."

  But Joyce was not satisfied. What was a dinner-party to her if herprecious one was sickening for croup or any other fatal malady? Mostinfant maladies were fatal unless taken in time, and if she were awayand he be taken ill, how would he fare? She decided that the Brightswould have to do without her, and forgive the disappointment.

  Forthwith she unwrapped, and settled down to spend a quiet eveningalone, with an ear strained to hear any return of the cough, and quitedetermined to send for the doctor should it recur.

  However, having upset his mother's nerves and thrown a dinner-party outof order, the infant slept soundly till morning.