CHAPTER X.
The opinion was a united one on board the _Annie Laurie_ the next Sundayafternoon that Nature had left nothing undone to make the occasion asuccess. This might have testified to less than it did; for a similarview has been expressed as unanimously, and adhered to as firmly, onboard the _Annie Laurie_ when the banks of the Hooghly have been greywith deluge and the ladies have saved their skirts by sitting on oneanother’s knees in her tiny cabin. The _Annie Laurie_ being theLieutenant-Governor’s steam-launch, nobody but the Lieutenant-Governorpresumes to be anything but complimentary as to the weather experiencedaboard her. And this in India is natural. It could not be said, however,that there was anything necessarily diplomatic even in Mrs. Daye’sappreciation of this particular afternoon. The air—they all dilated onthe air—blew in from the sea, across the salt marshes, through theplantains and the cocoanut-trees of the little villages, and brought adancing crispness, softened by the sun. The brown river hurtled outwardspast her buoys, and a great merchant ship at anchor in midstream swungslowly round with the tide. A vague concourse of straight masts andblack hulls and slanting funnels stretched along the bank behind themwith the indefiniteness that comes of multitude, for every spar and linestood and swung clear cut in the glittering sun; and the point they werebound for elbowed itself out into the river two miles farther down, inthe grey greenness of slanting, pluming palms. Already the water wasgrowing more golden where the palms toppled over the river: there wouldnot be more than two good hours of daylight. As Mrs. Daye remarked tothe Lieutenant-Governor, life was all too short in the cold weatherreally to absorb, to drink in, the beauties of nature—there was so muchgoing on.
“Then,” said His Honour, “we must make the most of our time.” But he didnot prolong his gaze at Mrs. Daye by way of emphasising his remark, asanother man, and especially another lieutenant-governor, might havedone. He fixed it instead on the dilapidated plaster façade on the leftbank of the river, formerly inhabited by the King of Oudh and hisrelatives, and thought of the deplorable sanitation there.
Not that John Church was by any means unappreciative of the beauties ofnature. It was because he acknowledged the moral use of them that hecame on these Sunday afternoon picnics. He read the poets, and would paya good price for a bronze or a picture, for much the same reason. Theyformed part of his system of self-development; he applied them to hismind through the medium which nature has provided, and trusted that theeffect would be good. He did it, however, as he did everything, with thegreatest possible economy of time, and sometimes other considerationsoverlapped. That very afternoon he meant to speak to the Superintendentof the Botanical Gardens—the green elbow of the river crooked about thisplace—concerning the manufacture and distribution of a new febrifuge,and he presently edged away from Mrs. Daye with the purpose of findingout her husband’s views concerning the silting up of river-beds inBengal and the cost of preventive measures. Life with John Church couldbe measured simply as an area for effort.
Notwithstanding, it was gay enough.]
Notwithstanding these considerations, it was gay enough. Captain Thrush,A.D.C., sat on the top of the cabin, and swung his legs to theaccompaniment of his amusing experiences the last time he went quailshooting. The St. Georges were there, and the St. Georges wereproverbial in Calcutta for lightheartedness. Sir William Scott mighthave somewhat overweighted the occasion; but Sir William Scott had takenoff his hat, the better to enjoy the river-breeze, and this reduced himto a name and a frock coat. In the general good spirits the abnegationand the resolution with which Lewis Ancram and Judith Church occupiedthemselves with other people might almost have passed unnoticed. RhodaDaye found herself wondering whether it would be possible for Ancram tobe pathetic under the most moving circumstances, so it may be presumedthat she perceived it; but the waves of mirth engendered by CaptainThrush and the St. Georges rolled over it so far as the rest wereconcerned, as they might over a wreck of life and hope. This prettysimile occurred to Miss Daye, who instantly dismissed it as mawkish, butnevertheless continued, for at least five minutes, to reflect on theirony of fate, as, for the moment, she helped to illustrate it. A newgravity fell upon her for that period, as she sat there and watchedJudith Church talking to Sir William Scott about his ferns. For thefirst time she became aware that the situation had an edge to it—thatshe was the edge. She was the saturnine element in what she had hithertoresolutely regarded as a Calcutta comedy; she was not sure that shecould regard it as a comedy any longer, even from the official point ofview. Ancram evidently had it in mind to make an exhibition to the worldin general, and to Mrs. Church in particular, of devotion to hisbetrothed. She caught him once or twice in the act of gratefullyreceiving Mrs. Church’s approving glance. Nevertheless she had anagreeable tolerance for all that he found to do for her. She forbadeherself, for the time being, any further analysis of a matter with whichshe meant to have in future little concern. In that anticipation shebecame unaccountably light-hearted and talkative and merry. So much so,that Captain Thrush, A.D.C., registered his conviction that she wasreally rather a pretty girl—more in her than he thought; and theHonourable Mr. Lewis Ancram said to himself that she was enjoying, inanticipation, the prestige she would have a month later, and that thecleverest of women were deplorably susceptible to social ambition.
The Superintendent met them at the wharf, and John Church led the way upthe great central avenue of palms, whose grey, shaven polls look as ifthey had been turned by some giant lathe, with his hand on the arm ofthis gentleman. The others arranged themselves with a single eye toavoiding the stupidity of walking with their own wives and troopedafter.
“We are going to the orchid-houses, John,” Mrs. Church called after herhusband, as Sir William Scott brought them to a halt at a divergent roadhe loved; and Church took off his hat in hurried acquiescence.
“Notice my new Dendrobium!” cried the Superintendent, turning a ruefulcountenance upon them. “The only one in Asia!” Then his head resumed itsinclination of respectful attention, and the pair disappeared.
Mrs. Church laughed frankly. “Poor Dr. James!” she exclaimed. “Myhusband is double-dyed in febrifuge to-day.”
Ancram took the privilege—it was one he enjoyed—of gently rebuking her.“It is one of those common, urgent needs of the people,” he said, “thatHis Honour so intimately understands.”
Judith looked at him with a sudden sweet humility in her eyes. “You arequite right,” she returned. “I sometimes think that nobody knows him asyou do. Certainly,” she added, in a lower tone, as the two fell back,“nobody has more of his confidence, more of his dependence.”
“I don’t know,” Ancram answered vaguely. “Do you really think so? Idon’t know.”
“I am sure of it.”
He looked straight before him in silence, irritated in his sensitivemorality—the morality which forbade him to send a Government_chuprassie_ on a private errand, or to write to his relations inEngland on office paper. A curve in the walk showed them Rhoda Daye,standing alone on the sward, beside a bush in crimson-and-orange flower,intently examining a spray. Almost involuntarily they paused, and Ancramturned his eyes upon Mrs. Church with the effect of asking her what heshould do, what he must do.
“Go!” she said; and then, as if it were a commonplace: “I think MissDaye wants you. I will overtake the others.”
She thought he left her very willingly, and hurried on with theconviction that, like everything else, it would come right—quiteright—in the end. She was very happy if in any way she had helped it tocome right—so happy that she longed to be alone with her sensations, andrevolted with all her soul against the immediate necessity of SirWilliam Scott and the St. Georges. To be for a few hours quite alone,unseen and unknown, in the heart of some empty green wilderness likethis, would help her, she knew, to rationalise her satisfaction. “Mydear boy,” she said, with nervous patience, as Captain Thrush appearedin search of her, “did you think I had fallen into a tank? Do go and
take care of the other people.” An aide-de-camp was not a seriousimpediment to reflection, but at the moment Judith would have beendistressed by the attendance of her own shadow, if it were tooperceptible.
Ancram crossed over to Rhoda, with his antipathy to theLieutenant-Governor sensibly aggravated by the fact that his wife tookan interest in him—an appreciative interest. It was out of harmony,Ancram felt vaguely, that she should do this—it jarred. He had soadmired her usual attitude of pale, cool, sweet tolerance toward JohnChurch—had so approved it. That attitude had been his solace in thinkingabout her in her unique position and with her rare temperament. Tosuppose her counting up her husband’s virtues, weighing them, doingjustice to them, tinged her with the commonplace, and disturbed him.
“That’s a curious thing,” he said to Rhoda.
She let go her hold of the twig, and the red-and-gold flower danced uplike a flame.
“It belongs to the sun and the soil; so it pleases one better than anyimportation.”
“An orchid is such a fairy—you can’t expect it to have a nationality,”he returned.
She stood, with her head thrown back a little, looking at the spraysthat swung above the line of her lips. Her wide-brimmed hat dropped asoft shadow over the upper part of her face; her eyes shone through itwith a gleam of intensely feminine sweetness, and the tender curve ofher throat gave him an unreasoned throb of anticipation. In six weeks hewould be married to this slender creature; it would be an excursion intothe unknown, not unaccompanied by adventures. Tentatively, it might beagreeable; it would certainly be interesting. He confessed to acuriosity which was well on the way to become impatient.
“Then do you want to go and see the Dendrobium?” she asked.
“Not if you prefer to do anything else.”
“I think I would enjoy the cranes more, or the pink water-lilies. Theothers will understand, won’t they, that we two might like to take alittle walk?”
Her coquetry, he said to himself, was preposterously pretty. They tookanother of the wide solitary paths that led under showery bamboos andquivering mahogany trees to where a stretch of water gave back thesilence of the palms against the evening sky, and he droppedunconsciously into the stroll which is characterised everywhere as alover’s. She glanced at him once or twice corroboratively, and said toherself that she had not been mistaken: he had real distinction—he wasnot of the herd. Then she picked up broad, crisp leaves with the pointof her parasol and pondered while he talked of a possible walking tourin the Tyrol. Presently she broke in irrelevantly, hurriedly.
“I like to do a definite thing in a definite way: don’t you?”
“Certainly; yes, of course.”
“Well; and that is why I waited till this afternoon to tell you—to tellyou——”
“To tell me——”
“My dear Mr. Ancram, that I cannot possibly marry you.”
She had intended to put it differently, more effectively—perhaps with aturn that would punish him for his part in making the situation what itwas. But it seemed a more momentous thing than she thought, now that shecame to do it; she had a sense that destiny was too heavy a thing toplay with.
He gave her an official look, the look which refuses to allow itself tobe surprised, and said “Really?” in a manner which expressed absolutelynothing except that she had his attention.
“I do not pretend,” she went on, impaling her vanity upon her candour,“that this will give you the slightest pain. I have been quite consciousof the relation between us” (here she blushed) “for a very long time;and I am afraid you must understand that I have reached this decisionwithout any undue distress—_moi aussi_.”
She had almost immediately regained her note; she was wholly mistress ofwhat she said. For an instant Ancram fancied that the bamboos and themahogany trees and the flaming hibiscus bushes were unreal, that he waswalking into a panorama, and it seemed to him that his steps wereuncertain. He was carrying his silk hat, and he set himself mechanicallyto smooth it round and round with his right hand as he listened.
When she paused he could find nothing better to say than “Really?”again; and he added, “You can’t expect me to be pleased.”
“Oh, but I do,” she returned promptly. “You are, aren’t you?”
It seemed a friendly reminder of his best interests. It brought thebamboos back to a vegetable growth, and steadied Ancram’s nerves. Hecontinued to smooth his hat; but he recovered himself sufficiently tojoin her, at a bound, in the standpoint from which she seemed inclinedto discuss the matter without prejudice.
“Since we are to be quite candid with each other,” he said, smiling,“I’m not sure.”
“Your candour has—artistic qualities—which make it different from otherpeople’s. At all events, you will be to-morrow: to-morrow you will thankHeaven fasting.”
He looked at her with some of the interest she used to inspire in himbefore his chains began to gall him.
“Prickly creature!” he said. “Are _you_ quite sure? Is yourdetermination unalterable?”
“I acknowledge your politeness in asking me,” she returned. “It is.”
“Then I suppose I must accept it.” He spoke slowly. “But for the_soulagement_ you suggest I am afraid I must wait longer thanto-morrow.”
They walked on in silence, reached the rank edge of the pond, and turnedto go back. The afternoon still hung mellow in mid air, and something ofits tranquillity seemed to have descended between them. In their jointescape from their mutual burden they experienced a reciprocal goodfeeling, something like comradeship, not untouched by sentiment. Once ortwice he referred to their broken bond, asking her, with the appetite ofhis egotism, to give him the crystal truth of the reason she hadaccepted him.
“I accepted my idea of you,” she said simply, “which was not altogetheran accurate one. Besides, I think a good deal about—a lot of questionsof administration. I thought I would like to have a closer interest,perhaps a hand in them. Such fools of women do.”
After which they talked in a friendly way (it has been noted that Ancramwas tolerant) about how essential ambition was to the bearableness oflife in India.
“I see that you will be a much more desirable acquaintance,” Rhoda saidonce, brightly, “now that I am not going to marry you.” And he smiled insomewhat unsatisfied acquiescence.
Ancram grew silent as they drew near the main avenue and the realparting. The dusk had fallen suddenly, and a little wind brought showersof yellow leaves out of the shivering bamboos. They were quite alone,and at a short distance almost indistinguishable from the ixora bushesand the palmettos.
“Rhoda,” he said, stopping short, “this is our last walk together—we whowere to have walked together always. May I kiss you?”
The girl hesitated for an instant. “No,” she said, with a nervous laugh:“not that. It would be like the resurrection of something that had neverlived and never died!”
But she gave him her hand, and he kissed that, with some difficulty indetermining whether he was grateful or aggrieved.
“It’s really very raw,” said Miss Daye, as they approached the others;“don’t you think you had better put on your hat?”